A strange unease settled in her chest.
Inside, crystal chandeliers scattered light across polished floors. Wealthy guests drifted past in silk and velvet. Emily stayed near the edges, adjusting hems, while the girls offered homemade sugar cookies to anyone who smiled at them.
Across the room stood Nathaniel Brooks, CEO of Brooks Biotech. At thirty-seven, he was admired for his brilliance and pitied for his loss. Four years earlier, a fire had consumed his estate. His wife, Clara, and their newborn twin daughters were declared dead. The flames left nothing to bury but memory.
Since then, Nathaniel had existed more than lived.
Then he saw them.
Two little girls with golden hair and pink dresses, laughing beneath the chandeliers.
His breath caught.
It was impossible.
Yet the tilt of one head. The dimple in the other’s cheek. Clara’s expressions mirrored back at him.
He walked toward them, barely aware of anything else. When he noticed the necklaces — silver feathers he himself had commissioned before the twins were born — his knees nearly gave way.
Only two had ever been made.
He crouched to their level, hands trembling.
“Hi,” Ivy said boldly, studying him. “Your eyes are shiny.”