Chapter 21 - The Morning After the Candles
The morning after their shared birthday, the small apartment above Amelia’s bakery smelled of vanilla, roasted coffee, and profound peace.
Isabella woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside her window, a stark contrast to the sterile, terrifying silence of the Harrington estate where she had spent the first twenty-nine years of her life.
She walked into the modest kitchen, wearing an oversized, flour-dusted sweater that belonged to her sister. Amelia was already awake, humming softly as she kneaded a fresh batch of dough on the wooden counter.
"You are up early for someone who ate half a chocolate cake at midnight,"
Isabella teased, pouring herself a cup of steaming black coffee.
"A baker never sleeps, Izzy,"
Amelia laughed, wiping a smudge of flour from her cheek with the back of her wrist.
"Besides, the morning rush starts in exactly one hour."
Isabella leaned against the counter, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic mug. She watched her twin sister work with effortless, joyful grace. For years, Isabella had been told by their cruel grandmother, Victoria Harrington, that Amelia was dead. She had been raised in a gilded cage of corporate ruthlessness, shaped into a weapon of cold business, while Amelia had grown up in foster care, fighting for every scrap of happiness.
They had found each other. They had shattered the lies. But as Isabella looked out the window down at the quiet, cobblestone street below, she saw something that made the blood freeze in her veins.
Parked perfectly between two modest sedans was a massive, pitch-black luxury SUV with heavily tinted windows.
It was a Harrington corporate vehicle.
"Izzy? You look like you've seen a ghost,"
Amelia said, her hands stopping their rhythmic kneading.
"Worse,"
May you like
Isabella whispered, her voice dropping to a terrifying, icy register.
"The ghost has found us."
