Semua Bab The Twin's Secret: A Billionaire's Tempting Proposal: Bab 121 - Bab 130

Daphne's POV The first notes of the piano floated through the air like a whisper of magic, soft yet commanding. My feet responded instinctively, sliding into first position, my body finding its place in the mirrored room. The polished oak floor reflected the light pouring from the tall windows, and for a moment, I swore I could feel the room breathing with me.This was my sanctuary now—my little world carved out in one of Oliver’s spare rooms, transformed into a studio fit for dreams. Every time I stepped inside, the faint scent of varnish mixed with lavender polish made me feel like I was stepping into possibility. And it wasn’t just a place to dance—it was a reminder of how far I’d come.Across from me stood my teachers, Alessandro and Margot—two artists who had danced across stages in Paris, London, and New York, and somehow ended up here, with me, in this sunlit room. Alessandro, with his sharp jawline and warm, espresso-colored eyes, was the embodiment of precision. His every mo

Daphne's POV I tied the ribbons of my ballet shoes slowly, deliberately, as though the careful looping of satin could anchor the storm twisting inside me. The studio was quiet—too quiet. Only the soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional squeak of the wooden floor beneath my shifting weight filled the silence. The large mirror across from me reflected a woman who looked calm, composed, purposeful. But the eyes staring back gave me away; there was an ache in them, a constant shadow of fear I hadn’t been able to shake for weeks.Three weeks. That was all that was left until the grand ballet event I had worked so tirelessly toward. Every rehearsal, every aching muscle, every blister and bandaged toe—it had all been leading here. The anticipation should have filled me with nothing but joy, but instead it mixed with dread, because I knew what else loomed just beyond the glitter of stage lights.Daisy’s parents.The very thought of them arriving made my chest tighten as though in

Daphne's POV The next evening found me in the rehearsal room again. My body had become a map of aches and bruises, every muscle marked with evidence of the hours I poured into training. Sweat dampened the neckline of my leotard as I spun into another pirouette, my reflection blurring in the mirror until it seemed like there were a dozen versions of me all twirling at once—some confident, some frightened, some simply exhausted.But I refused to stop. The ballet event was no longer some distant horizon—it was fast approaching, each sunrise another page torn from the calendar. I landed my final turn and held the pose, arms curved, chest rising and falling, when a sound at the door startled me.“Daphne.”I turned, surprised. Oliver stood at the threshold, his suit jacket loosened but his presence as commanding as ever. His voice carried no anger, no warmth either—just authority, the kind that pulled my steps toward him before I could think twice.“Yes?” I asked, wiping the sweat from my

Daphne's POV I didn’t sleep much that night. The words from the letter kept circling in my head, a merciless chant that would not quiet: *Expect us in three days’ time.*Three days.By dawn, I was already sitting on the edge of my bed, my hands clasped together so tightly my knuckles turned white. I wanted to believe Oliver’s words — that I was ready, that everything would be fine — but my heart thudded against my ribs in frantic protest. Writing Daisy’s parents a letter had been one thing. Facing them, speaking to them, looking them in the eyes and pretending I was their daughter… that was something else entirely.When Brittany entered my room that morning, she wasted no time on pleasantries. She set down a tray of tea and a notebook on my desk, her eyes sharp as ever.“Up,” she ordered. “We have little time and much to do.”I obeyed, pulling myself together though my limbs felt like lead.Brittany began with posture. “Daisy holds her shoulders back but not rigidly. Like so.” She de

Christine's POV I had just settled into the lounge chair of Xavier’s apartment, glass of wine in my hand, when my phone buzzed against the polished glass table. At first, I ignored it, assuming it was another pointless notification. But when I glanced at the screen and saw Clara’s name flash across it, I nearly dropped the glass.Clara never called unless it was important. My heart leapt in my chest, and a slow, cold excitement rippled through me.“Finally,” I whispered, and pressed "accept."I didn’t bother greeting her. Instead, I immediately put the phone on loudspeaker and gestured for Xavier, who was perched by the window scrolling through his tablet, to come closer.“It’s Clara,” I mouthed.He raised an eyebrow, set his tablet aside, and leaned in, his sharp gaze locked on the phone as though he could burn through the screen with sheer will.Clara’s voice came through, low but urgent. "Ma’am… I have information.”I leaned forward, pressing my elbow to my knee, my entire body al