Chapter 8

OLIVIA

The moonlight scattered over the swaying ripples in the ocean. Melissa and I stood in queue anxiously waiting for our turn, as one of the families progressed inside, we advanced to the ramp.

“Can’t wait!” Melissa squealed with exhilaration.

Elena had returned from Sweden after seven years. We both are orphans; she was the first person to speak to me at Ramsdale’s Home for Orphans after Mrs. Clayden, the administrator, of our orphanage. That day is carved into my mind, to this date, when my younger sister Abigail and I were taken to that place.

As we sauntered into the enormous hall a woman appearing to be in her late 40s approached us. A monumental chandelier dangled from the ceiling, it wasn’t lit. The walls were all painted off-white. A vast red plain carpet lay over the wooden floor covering only the center of the room. There were two gigantic doors on either side and a set of wide stairs before us that led to a narrow corridor. The place bore a resemblance to a palac