Becoming Lailah: Married to my Twin Sister's Billionaire Husband-Chapter 103: The Fourth and the Fifth

MUSIC AND MURMURS lingered in the air, sharp as static, when Mailah dragged her glare from Grayson.

She’d already taken several determined steps, intent on confronting him before every pair of eyes in the ballroom, when someone else moved to intercept her.

Vivienne.

She glided forward like a queen cut from moonlight, silver skirts brushing the marble as though the floor bent itself to please her.

She paused at Grayson’s side, and though her smile was serene, her words had edges.

"Grayson," she said softly, "a word?"

Grayson’s eyes flicked from the guardian to Mailah. Hesitation flickered there, brief but real. His hand twitched like he might reach for hers, then curled into a fist instead. "Now?"

"Now," Vivienne confirmed, voice the kind that left no room for refusal.

Mailah’s pulse leapt.

The entire ballroom seemed to tilt, the crowd sharpening into teeth and eyes around her.

She was about to be left. Again.

Before Grayson could protest, Mailah plastered on a smile that felt more like she’d stapled it to her face. "It’s fine. Really. I actually need to... uh... find the restroom."

Grayson’s brow arched, the kind of arch that suggested he’d already calculated three hundred ways this could go wrong. "Mailah—"

"I’ll be fine," she cut in, injecting a little more cheer than necessary. "I mean, how dangerous could a bathroom be?"

From the look on his face, she guessed his answer was: very.

Vivienne turned, one elegant finger extending down a side corridor. "Third archway to the right, then straight ahead. You won’t get lost."

"Thank you," Mailah said brightly. Too brightly. She was practically glowing radioactive cheer.

Grayson leaned closer, his lips near her ear, sending shivers down her neck. "Don’t wander."

His breath brushed her skin, and suddenly the ballroom was too hot, her knees too unreliable. All she managed was a nod, though inside she wanted to scream something defiant, like I don’t need a babysitter.

But she did. She really, really did.

And then he was gone, swallowed by Vivienne’s silvery gravity, leaving her surrounded by people who looked like they might eat her for dessert.

"Perfect," she muttered under her breath.

The corridor Vivienne had pointed out was quieter, the music dimming with each step.

Mailah’s heels clicked against the marble, echoing too loudly. The walls were lined with portraits—Ashfords through the ages, pale faces staring down at her with unnerving familiarity. Some looked as though they might step right out of the frame.

"Bathroom," she whispered to herself. "Not haunted gallery tour. Bathroom."

The first archway revealed a room glowing with blue light, full of floating glass spheres. Definitely not a bathroom.

The second contained shelves upon shelves of books.

Finally, the third archway opened to a gilt-framed door etched with roses.

She pushed it open and sighed with relief.

Actual bathroom. Chandeliers, yes. Marble sinks, yes. But still—bathroom.

She leaned against the counter, staring at her flushed reflection. "Get it together, Mailah. You danced with Grayson without tripping. You survived Mason without losing a limb. You can definitely pee in peace."

Her reflection raised an unimpressed brow.

Mailah pressed cool water to her face, feeling the sting melt into calm. For a fleeting moment, she almost convinced herself she could make it through the night.

Almost.

She got out and found herself in the same corridor lined with portraits. Generations of Ashfords, each painted with eerie realism. Eyes that followed. Smiles that weren’t smiles.

Her steps slowed.

"You shouldn’t wander."

She spun. The man who was with the other Ashford brothers stood at the end of the hall, leaning against the wall as if he had always been there.

Raven-black hair falling in careless strands, silver eyes glinting like storm light.

"I—I wasn’t—" she stammered.

His lips curved faintly. "They’re watching you, you know. Every movement. Every mistake."

Mailah’s throat went dry. "Who are you?"

His lips curved faintly, not quite a smile. "Someone you haven’t decided whether to fear yet."

The answer did nothing to settle her pulse. If anything, it made it pound harder.

She swallowed. "You’re one of them."

"I am." His voice was steady, unbothered, but there was an edge to it, a rasp of truth that made the portraits around them seem to lean closer, listening. "Does that frighten you?"

Mailah forced herself to hold his stare. "I’ve met the other brothers."

"And?" His head tilted, raven hair brushing his cheek.

"They weren’t exactly reassuring."

This time, he did smile—sharp, fleeting, dangerous. "Then you’ve learned quickly."

Her breath snagged. "So what about you? Are you any different?" 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

His silver eyes narrowed, catching the faint glow of a chandelier down the hall. "Different?" He pushed off the wall with deliberate ease, each step unhurried yet filling the corridor with his presence. "No. I simply don’t pretend to be what I’m not."

The air stirred faintly as he drew closer, like the brush of wings.

Mailah fought the instinct to retreat. Her voice came out low, unsteady.

"Are you watching me too?"

"I’m trying to decide."

"Decide what?"

"Whether you’ll survive him."

Her pulse skittered. "Grayson?"

His gaze sharpened. "He’s many things. But safe? He has never been that."

Before she could answer, a burst of laughter echoed from the ballroom. The sound snapped like glass, too sharp to be joy.

His head tilted, listening. Then he pushed off the wall. "The night stirs. Stay close to him, or don’t. Either way, choose. This house eats the indecisive."

And with that, he vanished back into the crowd.

She bolted out of that corridor and straight into a solid chest.

Strong hands caught her elbows before she could topple over.

"Easy," Grayson’s low voice murmured.

Her head snapped up. Relief shot through her, so sharp it made her knees weak. "You— You’re back."

His gaze searched her face, narrowing as if cataloguing every detail. "You’re pale."

"No, I’m fine," she lied instantly, because she was not about to confess how shaken she still was from encountering his intense, raven-haired brother in the corridor.

His hands lingered on her arms, firm, grounding. "Mailah."

Her breath caught.

Heat flared between them, stronger than the chandeliers above. She wanted to lean into him, into that safety she pretended she didn’t crave.

"Someone was in there," she blurted instead.

His eyes sharpened. "Who?"

She swallowed. "No one...I just felt it."

Grayson’s jaw clenched. "Don’t leave my side again," he said, and this time it wasn’t velvet, it was steel.

Her pulse tripped. "You were the one who left me."

His eyes burned into hers. "And I regret it already."

Her heart gave a traitorous swoop.

They stood too close in the corridor, silence wrapping around them like a net. His hand lifted, hesitated in the air between them, as if drawn to her cheek but fighting against it.

Mailah forgot how to breathe. Every nerve screamed at her to lean in. To close the space.

"Grayson," she whispered, not even sure what she was asking.

His eyes darkened, a storm rolling in.

The moment stretched—suspended, fragile.

And then—

"Ah, there you are!"

Mailah jolted as Carson’s voice rang down the hall, smug and amused.

Grayson’s hand dropped instantly.

Mailah cursed every Ashford brother alive and dead.

Carson lounged against the archway, grin wicked. "Vivienne’s looking for you again, brother. And Mailah—" his gaze flicked over her with deliberate insolence, "the buffet’s been set up. Don’t worry, it’s for the humans. You might even be on the menu if you wander too far."

Mailah’s stomach lurched. She couldn’t tell if he was teasing or warning.

Grayson’s glare was so sharp it could have stripped the paint from the walls, but Carson only laughed.

Carson pushed off the archway and strolled closer, slipping into the space beside her as though invited. "Why don’t I keep her company while you run along? Vivienne won’t wait forever, and it’d be rude to leave a guest unattended. I’ll even escort her to the buffet. Consider it... good manners."

The chill in Grayson’s gaze could have frozen stone, yet Carson looked all the more entertained.

"No," Grayson said, voice steady as iron. He slid his hand over Mailah’s, anchoring her in place. "I told her I wouldn’t leave her side again, and I meant it. I’ll take her to the buffet myself." His gaze sharpened. "If Vivienne wants me, she can come find me."

For a heartbeat, silence stretched between the brothers, taut as wire.

Then Carson laughed, the sound low and taunting. "Ah, so the Third is being stubborn as always. How refreshing." His eyes lingered on Mailah, glinting with mischief. "Try to save me a dance, darling. If he’ll let you."

With that, he turned on his heel and sauntered toward the glittering buffet, tension trailing in his wake.

Mailah let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. "Is he always like that?"

Grayson’s jaw eased, though his eyes stayed locked on Carson’s retreating figure. "Always. And worse when he thinks he’s clever."