INICIAR SESIÓN"Sign it," he said. "Talia needs me in a way you never will." Five years of marriage ended with a folder on the kitchen counter, one day after Olivia caught her husband with his first love in an unfinished hotel suite—and heard him blame her for walking in on it. It wasn't the papers that broke her. It was that he said it like a fact, and didn't even flinch when the pen trembled in her hand. Olivia Winslow walked out with three suitcases and a phone that never rang. She'd given Damian Sterling five years of patience and silent devotion—traded for a woman who came back from Paris claiming to be dying, and never had to raise her voice to take it all. What Damian didn't know: she left pregnant. Twins. His twins. And she never told him. Five years later, he walks into a Milan exhibition hall as a favor to a friend—and finds his ex-wife standing beside two children with his exact eyes. He has a fortune, a name, and a company built to get him anything he wants. Only this time, there are two more heartbeats standing between them—and the second chance isn't his to ask for.
Ver más— Aurora! — A voz de Evangeline, que agora me parecia extremamente irritante, me obrigou a abrir os olhos. — Aurora, acorda! — Ela chamou novamente, batendo insistentemente na porta do meu quarto, me fazendo cobrir a cabeça com a grossa coberta e afundar meu rosto nos travesseiros.
Evangeline era minha irmã mais nova e, apesar da sua idade, costumava ser muito madura. Na maioria das vezes, era madura demais. Tinha somente quinze anos, porém, às vezes, parecia que ela era a mais velha e eu a adolescente. — Você vai se atrasar. — Ouvi um suspiro do lado de fora, provavelmente ela estaria passando as mãos nos cabelos agora, irritada com a minha demora. — Não vou te chamar mais. — O som de seus passos foi ficando cada vez mais distante, até que tudo ficou silencioso novamente, então me levantei. Esse era o nosso ritual matinal, ela vinha me acordar todos os dias, eu me recusava a levantar, ela ia embora e só então eu me levantava. Saí de baixo dos cobertores a contragosto, o clima estava bem frio, o que era mais um motivo para eu querer continuar na cama, mas infelizmente tinha uma vida fora do meu quarto e provavelmente já estava atrasada. Droga. Andei preguiçosamente até o banheiro e tirei meu pijama completamente infantil, estampado com vários unicórnios e arco-íris. Prendi meus cabelos e liguei o chuveiro, sentindo a água quente descer pela minha pele e me deixar mais relaxada, o que não era nada bom, afinal, eu estava atrasada, já deveria estar pronta a essa hora, mas metade do meu cérebro ainda dormia. Saí do banheiro enrolada em uma toalha azul e parei na frente do meu armário, abrindo-o e encarando todas as peças que ali haviam por alguns segundos. Dando um longo suspiro, peguei um moletom cor de rosa, uma camiseta branca e uma calça jeans justa. Me vesti o mais rápido que pude, o que não era muita coisa, e em seguida calcei meus tênis, me olhando no espelho e fazendo uma careta de desgosto. Largada. Era assim que eu estava e no momento. Eu só queria minha cama. Peguei minha mochila e abri a porta do meu quarto, seguindo pelo corredor e descendo as escadas lentamente, bocejando algumas vezes. Passei pela sala, mas não parei, sabia que a essa hora todos estariam na cozinha, de onde vinha o cheiro maravilhoso de café e pão caseiro, a mesa do café já estava posta e todos já haviam praticamente terminado. Evangeline me encarou com um pequeno riso, parando uma colher cheia de cereal a caminho da boca. — Demorou esse tempo todo para sair assim? — Ela me perguntou, sarcástica. Eva era muito parecida com nossa mãe, os olhos de ambas eram idênticos, azuis intensos e chamativos, um rosto com traços angelicais e lábios carnudos, cabelos loiros, ondulados e longos. Mamãe dizia que Eva era como uma cópia adolescente sua e tinha razão, o rosto dela era um pouco arredondado e tinha lábios naturalmente avermelhados, ela era tão delicada e fofa. Além de tudo isso, Eva era extremamente inteligente, com uma língua muito afiada. — Bom dia, querida — disse minha mãe, Victória, me dando um beijinho na bochecha e me entregando uma xícara de café preto, do jeito que eu gostava. Minha mãe era uma mulher incrivelmente bonita e bem sucedida, não costumava estar em casa, por isso sempre que dava uma pausa em suas viagens, nós tomávamos café, juntos e jantávamos juntos. Victória era uma renomada sexóloga, já palestrou por boa parte dos EUA, também já visitou vários países, como Inglaterra e França. Quando eu era pequena, sentia muita vergonha da profissão da minha mãe, mas, com o tempo, me acostumei e agora, realmente gostava, já aprendi muitas coisas com ela. — Bom dia, princesa — papai falou, assim que me sentei, deixando minha mochila no chão ao lado da cadeira.Olivia POVThe ultrasound room is colder than the last one. I lie back on the table, my shirt pushed up and a cold gel already spreading across my stomach, and stare at the ceiling tiles while I wait for the technician to find whatever it is she's looking for. There's a poster taped above the machine, some cheerful illustration of a growing baby week by week, and I focus on that instead of letting my mind wander anywhere it shouldn't."First time seeing baby?" the technician asks."First time," I say. "My husband couldn't make it."The lie comes out easier than I expected, smoother than the truth would ever be — simpler than explaining that there is no husband anymore, just a name I deleted off a phone three weeks ago and a version of my old life I've mostly stopped letting myself think about in daylight hours.She presses the wand down, moves it slowly in careful circles, and the screen blooms into gray static and shadow."There we are," she says, and taps the screen. "And there.""T
Olivia POVI met Nadia two weeks ago at a café three doors down from this apartment, the kind of half-empty morning when neither of us had anywhere else to be. I'd walked in solely because the smell of espresso reminded me of nothing in particular — no memory attached, no ghost of Damian standing in the doorway of it — and that alone felt like enough of a reason to sit down. She was at the next table arguing in rapid, furious Italian with someone on the phone about a shipment of gemstones that hadn't cleared customs, and when she hung up she caught me watching and just laughed, this loud, unguarded sound that startled me because I hadn't heard anyone laugh like that in longer than I could remember."You're new," she said, in English, before I'd said a single word. "I can always tell. New people sit like they're apologizing for the chair."I didn't correct her. I probably was sitting like that.We talked for two hours that first morning, mostly about nothing — her work, some half-forme
Olivia POV"You and your family shouldn't worry about the debt. I have already spoken to my father about it." — DamianI felt like smashing my phone against the window. I already knew how my parents would take it — grateful, relieved, not once stopping to ask how I was doing. I closed my eyes, and the car kept moving.*****I lodged in a hotel that night, a generic suite with a view of nothing in particular, and lay awake until the sky outside went from black to the color of dishwater, thinking about nothing and everything in the same breath. By the time the alarm on my phone went off, I'd already decided. Milan. Away. Somewhere none of these people would think to look for me first, somewhere the Sterling name meant nothing and the Winslow debt meant even less. I booked the flight before I let myself change my mind, and the next morning I am already at the airport, standing in a security line with the same three suitcases and a body that feels like it belongs to someone else.The depa
Olivia POVThe staircase feels longer than it's ever felt in five years, each step announcing itself under the weight of a suitcase I'm dragging instead of rolling because the wheels catch on the runner and I don't have it in me to fight with luggage today. Somewhere around the fourth step I remember climbing this same staircase in my wedding dress, laughing about something I can't recall anymore, Damian's hand at the small of my back like a promise. The memory arrives uninvited and leaves just as fast, because I don't have room for it this morning. I have exactly enough strength left to get myself and three suitcases out the front door, and not one ounce more.Two maids stand near the hall table, pretending to arrange flowers that don't need arranging. Neither of them looks at me directly. Both of them watch anyway, the way people watch a car accident they're too polite to admit they're watching. I used to know both their names. This morning I can't summon either one, and the small,












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