Todos los capítulos de THE WRONG SISTER : Capítulo 1 - Capítulo 5

The atelier door burst open.“Dad?” Arwen Valehart set down her charcoal pencil. “What are you doing here? I thought you had meetings…”She looked up from her sketchbook, startled. Her father stood in the doorway, his silver hair disheveled, his face looking pale.“She’s gone.” His voice came out barely more than a whisper. “Isolde is gone.”The words didn’t make sense. Arwen blinked, her brain struggling to process them into meaning.“Gone where? What do you mean gone?”Thorne Valehart moved into the fitting room fully. He collapsed onto the velvet settee, his head dropping into his hands. Behind him, Margot, the head seamstress, hovered in the doorway, her expression neutral.“Mr. Valehart, should I…”“Leave us.” Thorne’s voice was sharp. “Close the door. Tell your staff to go home.”Margot’s lips thinned, but she nodded and disappeared. The door clicked shut.Arwen stood slowly, her legs unsteady. “Dad, you’re scaring me. What happened to Isolde?”He looked up, and she saw somethin

“Stop fidgeting.”Arwen’s hands stilled in her lap, but the urge to touch her newly blonde hair wouldn’t go away.“Sorry,” she murmured, then caught herself. Isolde never apologized. She’d have to remember that.They had spent one frantic day transforming her into Isolde—her hair dyed blonde by a stylist, her mannerisms coached by Celeste who drilled her on how to walk, talk, smile, and eat like her confident sister.“The hair suits you. You look just like her.” Her mother sat across from her in the back of the town car, studying her with critical eyes.But I’m not her. The words sat heavy on Arwen’s tongue, unspoken.“Remember what we discussed,” Celeste continued. “Isolde doesn’t ask permission, she is confident.”“She drinks champagne, not water. Wears Chanel No. 5. Hates roses, loves peonies. Never crosses her legs at the ankle, always at the knee.” Arwen recited the list they’d drilled into her for the past 24 hours. “I know, Mom. I’ve known her my whole life.”She’d spent twenty

“Smile more. No, not like that. Like you’re happy.”Arwen sat in front of a makeup artist who’d been working on her face for forty minutes, turning her into someone camera-ready.Beside her, a woman in a sharp black suit paced with a tablet. She’d introduced herself as Simone Marks, Caelum’s PR director.“The press conference starts in an hour. We’ve prepared statements for both of you. Memorize them.” Simone thrust a packet of papers at Arwen. “Don’t deviate. These reporters will twist anything you say.”“Okay,” she replied, trying not to move her mouth while the makeup artist applied lipstick.Simone stopped pacing and looked at Arwen. “Some reporters have noticed small things. We need to shut that down today.”Arwen’s stomach dropped. “What kind of things?”“Your hair color change. The fact that Isolde Valehart hasn’t posted on Instagram in five days. A gossip columnist noticed you’re wearing different perfume at the estate.” Simone leaned in. “People in our world notice everything