Chapter 3

Hulio.

“Who?” Jude asks, scanning the crowd.

I hesitate, eyes lingering on the place she’d vanished. That flash of hair. That impossible poise.

“It’s nothing,” I mutter, distracted.

But it isn’t nothing. That woman, whoever she was, stirred something strange in me. A curiosity I can’t shake.

“I’ve got to meet our hosts,” I say dryly to Jude.

He barks a laugh. “Godspeed, my friend.”

I roll my eyes and head toward the center of the ballroom where I spot Helia talking with a couple—our hosts, I assume.

I haven’t been in the States for years, not since our parents split when Helia and I turned sixteen. He stayed with Dad. I followed Mum to Monaco. They never officially divorced—too much at stake with the business, the image, the brand. It wasn’t for our sake, that much was clear.

Distance grew like ivy. Phone calls turned shallow. Visits became awkward. Our conversations stretched with more of silence. We’re twins in theory more than reality now. And I preferred it that way—until Mum decided we had stayed away

long enough and returned us to this polished world of glass smiles and corporate charm.

I step beside Helia just as he turns to introduce me.

“Mr. and Mrs. Richmond Hills,” he says, “my younger twin, Hulio Ripples. Hulio, meet Richmond and Scarlet Hills.”

Richmond extends a hand, his grip firm but easygoing. Salt-and-pepper hair, well-fitted suit. His wife, Scarlet, glitters beside him, elegance incarnate.

“Hulio, pleasure at last. We’ve heard of you, though you seem to dodge every party on this side of the globe.” Richmond smiles.

“I apologize for being scarce,” I reply with a half-charming grin. “Unlike Helia, I’ve spent my days in pursuit of la dolce vita.”

Scarlet laughs lightly.

“Ah, youth. I hope our youngest takes a page from your book. Instead, she prefers falling into desserts and scandal.”

My eyebrows lift. “Your youngest?”

“Yes,” she says, amused. “Ashley is our eldest. Alexa is our baby. She’s the one who…well… toppled the refreshment table earlier.”

I nearly choke on my wine.

That girl? The awkward one in chocolate and wine? The Hills’ daughter?

Guilt slams into me like a punch to the gut. The cruel jokes I made, the disdain I voiced out loud to Jude…

She’s their daughter.

I school my features into a neutral smile. Thank God they didn’t hear me.

Just then, a figure in white silk and lace approaches. She glides, every step a show of confidence. Long legs, eyes like piercing ice. My heart lurches when I recognize her.

Her.

The woman from earlier—the one I thought I glimpsed in the crowd. Now fully visible, her beauty is almost cinematic. Blue eyes sweep the room, then land on me. My chest tightens.

“Gentlemen,” Richmond says proudly, “meet our eldest daughter—Ashley Hills.”

Ashley smiles and kisses her father’s cheek. “I’ve already met Helia at Eveliina’s wedding,” she says sweetly.

Helia smiles in return, but I barely register it.

Because I’m still reeling.

Alexa Hills is the one I mocked—and forgot.

Ashley Hills is the one I just fell breathless over.

But somehow… part of me can’t stop thinking about the girl who ran away.

The girl with tears in her eyes.

The girl I dismissed.

***

Alexa.

My family owns Hills Corp—fashion, steel, oil, construction, diamonds.

But I only ever cared about one thing: fashion.

My grandmother built Hills Fusion with her own hands. It started with sketches in the margins of ledgers and turned into a name on every runway in the world. After grandpa died, years ago, she made Grandpas businesses and Hills Fusion more than a conglomerate—she made it a legacy. One entity. HILLS CORP.

And now Hills Fusion, will be my place of employment someday. I will work as a designer and earn a living. My dream.

I return from the shower and sink onto the edge of my bed, towel wrapped around me. My fingers drift to the magazine on my nightstand. Hills Fusion’s latest edition. The model on the cover stares confidently into the camera. Hair like molten gold. Posture regal.

She wears my dream like it was made for her.

I put on my glasses, brushing a tear from my cheek.

“You wish to be like them, don’t you?”

I freeze.

Jon.

He leans against the doorframe, his voice coated in quiet mockery. My cousin—the same cousin who got me to stumble out of that damn alcove tonight. My face burns at the memory.

He ruined everything.

And yet… I retreated to my Shadow realm. I ran away from the crowd. I hid like I always do.

I wanted to make Grandma proud. I designed the dress for this party. She was overjoyed. Told me to wear it and shine. And instead of shining, I fell into desserts like a joke waiting to happen.

“Tell me, Alexa,” Jon repeats, “do you want to be like those women?”

I stand, rage pulsing in my chest.

And I slap him.

Hard.

He recoils, stunned.

“You ruined my chance of meeting Hulio Ripples!” I yell, voice cracking.

He blinks, then smirks, rubbing his cheek.

“So that’s what it’s about?”

I point to the door. “Get. Out.”

For once, he listens. He backs away and leaves.

I collapse onto the bed, shaking. My breath is uneven. My hands tremble.

I didn’t just embarrass myself.

I missed my chance at something more.

Something—someone—that felt real, even if for a second. Even though Hulio’s older than me by years.

Helia’s eyes come back to me. That brief moment of kindness. A thread of safety in a world of razors.

And then there was Hulio. I didn’t even speak to him. But now I know his face. His name. His gaze across the ballroom.

What would he think of me?

Tears return, but not the same kind as before.

Not shame.

Not quite.

Just the feeling of a door closing.

Too soon.