Meeting her for the first time

The next morning, the orphanage gates were lined with sleek black cars. The sound of engines idling filled the air as the girls finished packing their few belongings.

Lilian stepped out first, her face unreadable. Isabella followed, but just before she could cross the threshold, the new matron’s hand gently caught her arm.

“Remember this, Isabella,” the matron whispered firmly. “Your father is Adrian Sinclair. And now, the one in charge of your household is Matteo Sinclair, his younger brother. Do not allow them to trample on you.”

Isabella smiled faintly and nodded. “I won’t allow it, ma’am.”

The matron released her hand, and Isabella walked outside. The guards at the gate bowed respectfully as Isabella and Lilian entered the waiting limousine. More cars lined up behind them, forming a convoy as they drove away from the orphanage.

Hours later, the convoy slowed before a sprawling mansion, towering with stone walls and elegant arches. The moment the girls stepped out of the car, they exchanged nervous glances. Together, they were guided through the tall doors and into a grand hall.

The place buzzed with people. Servants rushed about, guests mingled in expensive clothes, and the weight of many stares pressed on Isabella.

Then, through the crowd, a woman suddenly rushed forward. She had soft eyes but carried herself with authority. Without hesitation, she embraced Lilian tightly.

“Lilian…” her voice cracked, “my daughter.”

But Lilian stood stiffly in her arms, not returning the affection. Sensing the tension, the woman quickly turned and drew Isabella into the same embrace. Isabella, however, gave the same cold reaction.

Matteo Sinclair cleared his throat loudly, forcing the hall into silence. “Welcome, Lilian and Isabella Sinclair.”

At once, murmurs rippled through the guests.

“She looks exactly like her sister, Isadora…” one voice whispered.

Before the whispers could fade, a girl in a maid’s uniform stepped into the hall, balancing a tray of drinks. Isabella’s heart stopped.

She froze where she stood, eyes locked on the girl—her exact reflection.

The maid, Isadora, faltered mid-step, stunned by the sight before her. She forgot the tray in her hands, setting it carelessly on a nearby table as she slowly approached Isabella.

“Pretty dirty right now,” Isadora said with a lazy smile. “I wanted to hug you, sissy—”

But before she could finish, Isabella threw her arms around her, holding her so tightly it drew a startled gasp from the crowd.

At that moment, Alessandro stepped back into the hall, returning from the restroom. His eyes narrowed as he spotted Isabella.

Isabella pulled back from her sister, her gaze falling on Isadora’s bruised skin. Her voice trembled with rage. “Why are you like this? Even Lilian looks stunned. How can a girl from the Sinclairs look so unkempt?”

Isadora forced a small laugh. “I was just doing the dishes and working before you came, sissy.”

Isabella shook her head sharply. “That’s not what I asked, Isadora. Why are you bruised?”

Lilian stepped closer. “Yes—tell us the truth.”

Before Isadora could answer, Lilian’s mother quickly interjected, flustered. “Oh—she… she fell down the stairs.”

Both girls turned and shot her a deadly glare. Isabella’s voice dropped low and cold. “These don’t look like stair injuries.”

Before the tension could escalate further, Alessandro cleared his throat. The sound cut through the murmurs.

Isabella turned sharply toward him, her eyes blazing.

Recognition struck like lightning. She stepped back, pointing a finger directly at him. “Wait—weren’t you the bastard who tried to kill me the other day?!”

Gasps echoed through the hall.

“Why are you here—in my house?!” she demanded.

Alessandro smirked, completely unfazed. “Woah. Claiming it as yours already? How bold.”

Isabella chuckled bitterly. “Isn’t my father’s property mine?”

Beside her, Isadora tugged on her sleeve, whispering urgently for her to stay quiet, but Isabella shrugged her off.

“And you, bastard—you almost shot me!”

Alessandro tilted his head, his voice calm. “Ms. Sinclair, I am your family’s honored guest today. Would you stop accusing me so recklessly?”

Her eyes burned with fury.

“You’ve just arrived,” Alessandro continued smoothly. “Go have some rest. Perhaps when you wake, you’ll come back to your senses.”

Before Isabella could fire back, a girl—Lilian’s younger sister, two years her junior—stormed into the hall. “Isadora! Why didn’t you finish what I asked you to do?” she snapped loudly, drawing more eyes.

Isadora started to turn, ready to obey, but Isabella caught her by the wrist.

“What did she ask you to do?” Isabella pressed.

Lilian’s voice joined in, firm. “Answer her.”

Isadora’s head lowered in shame. “She… she asked me to do her laundry. I almost forgot.”

Isabella’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What the hell are you saying? There are maids in this house, right?”

Isadora nodded quietly.

“Then why are you the one doing her laundry?” Isabella’s voice rose, echoing through the hall, demanding an answer no one seemed willing to give.