Disaster-Class Espionage

Adelle had done everything — and she meant everything — short of summoning dark magic to steal that cursed contract and every scrap of evidence from the pristine, silk-lined apron of Helen.

But alas, success was not in her stars. She had attempted stealth missions in broad daylight with sunglasses and a scarf—classic, late-night ninja ambushes armed with a feather duster, and even considered spiking Helen's afternoon tea with a suspiciously aggressive laxative. She once tried slipping a decoy folder in the laundry basket — only for Helen to return it, freshly pressed, with a note: "Nice try."

She attempted camouflage by pretending to be part of the wallpaper once. Helen offered her a paintbrush.

There was even The Great Fruit Basket Incident — an elaborate plan involving hidden compartments and suspiciously ripe mangoes — that failed before it even left the kitchen.

Helen, somehow, was always two steps ahead.

Adelle couldn't believe it. A mere servant from some nameless, forgotten village — probably with goats for neighbors and a rooster for a mayor — had the brainpower of a covert operative. Meanwhile, she, Adelle, descendant of a prestigious lineage of elite personal maids and office secretaries who had loyally served the Summers for generations, was reduced to… what?

Sending emails! Organizing color-coded spreadsheets! Ordering triple-shot soy caramel macchiatos with light foam and precisely 3.5 pumps of syrup! Wrangling suspiciously demanding caterers who thought "urgent" meant "next week."She was a master of managing overflowing calendars, tracking Ava's lost earrings, ensuring the right lighting for Ava's "good side" during video conferences, and once — once! — she had even fought off a swarm of pigeons with a clipboard so Ava could walk across the plaza in peace.

And yet, here she was, thoroughly outplayed by Helen, the devil's humble apron-wearing war general.

Adelle couldn't help but mutter under her breath: "Unbelievable. I write twenty-page reports faster than coffee cools, but I can't even outwit a glorified kitchen assistant. My ancestors must be rolling in their pressed and ironed graves."

Battered, bruised, and looking as though she had wrestled a tornado and lost, Adelle crawled back into Ava's luxurious suite. Her once-perfect uniform was torn, her bun had collapsed into chaos, and she was pale — pale like a ghost who'd been overworked by ghost-HR.

"I... I-I'm so sorry, my lady," she groaned dramatically, dragging herself forward with the last ounce of dignity she could muster, which wasn't much. She clutched Ava's expensive carpet as though it were holy ground and collapsed at her mistress's feet. "I have failed you. I deserve to die. Please bury me with the good silverware!"

Ava looked down at her, blinking once… and then suddenly chuckled. The chuckle escalated into laughter. Loud laughter — sharp and wicked — until the door that Adelle had left open slammed shut on its own, as if the room itself was scared.

"M-My lady!" Adelle gasped, flinching. "Please! Don't lose your shit yet! W-We can still… still find hope! Or a lawyer! Or a priest!"

"Oh, Adelle… my darling," Ava purred, her grin spreading slowly like a villain unveiling her final trick. She crouched down until they were eye to eye — one polished, elegant, and terrifying… the other a messy human mop on the floor.

"I've already secured the copy of the contract that'll be used tomorrow… and guess what?" Ava's grin widened until it practically threatened to split her cheeks. "It's under Eva's name. And thanks to you distracting Helen with your… creative attempts at espionage… she didn't even get the chance to double-check it. The way she looked down on us just because we're ten years younger than her is so insulting."

Adelle blinked. Once. Twice. Her lip quivered. "Y-You mean… I was useful, my lady?" Her voice cracked, and tears pooled in her eyes like a reality show elimination round.

Ava patted her shoulder as though knighting her. "Oh, you always are, Adelle."

There was a pause — one filled with dramatic, golden light as though heaven itself was blessing this moment.

Ava stood tall, flicked her hair, and declared with conviction, "Don't worry… the devil never wins against God's people!"

Adelle wiped her nose with her sleeve. "Y-You're not even a saint, my lady… but yes, I—"

"Get out, Adelle!"

"Yes, my lady!" Adelle yelped, scrambling to her feet and running straight into the doorframe on her way out.

Ava sighed, her breath fogging the glass for just a second, before she slowly straightened and turned to face the towering window. The view stretched out beneath her — the grand garden bustling with servants in crisp uniforms, hurriedly preparing for tomorrow's grand wedding. White silk draped over archways, flowers meticulously arranged, laughter and gossip floating through the air… none of it felt real to her.

Her mind drifted back to yesterday's conversation with Eva — that smug smile on her twin's face as she laid out the terms of the contract Ava had been tricked into signing. But Ava had read every line, every hidden clause, and something unexpected had jumped out at her. Nowhere in that document did it explicitly state that Ava must marry Zeke Ford.

The contract only declared that should she refuse to marry Zeke, her businesses and birthright would automatically transfer to Eva. But… what if she didn't refuse? What if she played the part, just not as Ava?

A slow, mischievous smile tugged at her lips.

If she stepped into that wedding as Eva — her twin's name, her twin's role — she could go through the motions, sign the papers, and then disappear. Vanish before anyone knew what hit them. The marriage would bind Zeke… still to Eva.

And after that? Ava could escape the mess, reclaim everything, and leave Eva tangled in her own web.

Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she whispered to herself, "You really should've read your own fine print, dear sister."

Ava's gaze suddenly darted to her phone, resting silently on her ornate Victorian bedside table — a piece as polished and pristine as the life she was trying desperately to keep from crumbling. The device had been merciless all day, buzzing and vibrating non-stop with calls from Zeke. Persistent, relentless, suffocating.

She had silenced it hours ago.

As much as she wanted to pick it up, to dial Zach's number and explain everything — to clear the misunderstanding between them with nothing but why his name has being mentioned in her press conference and a few well-chosen words — she knew she couldn't. Not now. Timing was everything.

The walls had ears. The wrong move could ruin everything. 

One problem at a time, she reminded herself, clenching her fists. First, the wedding. Once tomorrow was over, once she stood there as Eva and carried out her plan… only then would she have the freedom to set the rest in motion. Only then could she finally face Zach, tie up loose ends, and finish all of this — once and for all.

Her chest rose and fell in a slow, measured breath. The pieces were moving. She just had to make sure she stayed one step ahead.

"Now… to act as Eva," Ava muttered, squaring her shoulders. She looked around, then spotted the unfortunate chair sitting innocently beside her.

Without hesitation, she dramatically flipped it over with all the flair of a soap opera villain.

"Oh! How dare this chair hurt me!" she gasped in an overly high-pitched, nasal whine, clutching her wrist like a wounded princess. "I shall have it burned at once!" She fluttered her hands, stuck her chin in the air, and stomped one foot with all the grace of an angry toddler in designer heels.

Then… silence.

Ava blinked.

And suddenly burst into laughter so loud it echoed off the walls.

She wiped a tear from her eye, gasping for breath. "I… I actually sound like her if I lose about half of my brain cells!" she wheezed, collapsing into the now-offended chair she'd just assaulted.

She pointed at the chair dramatically, still giggling. "Don't worry, you're safe. Even Eva wouldn't waste her breath on you. But you did great in rehearsal."

The chair remained silent, as chairs do.

Ava gave it a thumbs-up anyway.

That night, Eva was on full pestering mode — and nothing in the world could stop her. She flopped onto Ava's bed like she owned it, swinging her legs and humming annoyingly loud.

"Sooo," Eva sang, wiggling her brows. "Tomorrow's the big day! My perfect, stiff, uptight sister is finally getting hitched to the drool-worthy Zeke Ford! Imagine that! You're going to marry my man!"

Ava glared at her from her vanity, biting her lip so she wouldn't throw a hairbrush.

"And then…" Eva gasped theatrically, clutching her chest, "then you're going to have kids! Little Zekes and Avas running around with perfect jawlines and judgmental glares!"

Ava groaned. "I will push you out of that damned window," she pointed the insulted window, but Eva was just getting started.

"Oooh! What if the kids inherit your perfectionism but my sass? They'll terrorize the playground. Oh! And—" she gasped again, desperately flopping over the bed like she was fainting. "You'll bear thousands of perverted descendants! Flirty, mischievous little monsters who'll break hearts left and right!"

Ava buried her face in her hands. She had to contain her anger, because in the end, she'll know she will have the last and final laugh. "I swear, Eva, I will suffocate you with this pillow."

Eva giggled and rolled over to her stomach. "Do you think Zeke's a cuddler? Ooooh, imagine waking up next to him drooling on your pillow. Yours. Not mine! Oh, the scandal!"

Ava's eye twitched.

"And weddings!" Eva continued mercilessly. "Oh my God! You'll have anniversary parties with banners like 'Happy 50th to Zeke & Ava!' — but everyone will know deep inside it should've been me! I'll cry at your wedding, by the way, as Ava. Loudly. And throw rice aggressively."

"I hope a pigeon chokes on that rice, Eva," Ava muttered darkly.

"Oh! And what about pet names?" Eva clapped her hands gleefully. "Will you call him 'Zee-Zee?' Or… snickers …'Daddy Zekey?'"

"GET. OUT."

Eva screeched with laughter and rolled right off the bed, still cackling. "Okay, okay! I'm going! But if you need tips for the honeymoon, big sis, I got you!"

"Out!"

Eva bolted out the door, still giggling so loud it echoed down the hall.

Ava groaned into her pillow. "I'm going to commit a crime tomorrow, and it won't be the fake wedding."