جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 8

The last thing Daisy Thorne remembered was the smell of lavender and the sound of her own heartbeat.She'd been closing up her flower shop, Petals & Peace, humming along to the old jazz record she always played during her evening routine. The sun had been setting over the harbor, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. Her fingers were still dusty from repotting the new hydrangeas. Her favorite cardigan smelled like roses.She didn't remember the van pulling up. She didn't remember the men grabbing her. She didn't remember the needle pressing into her neck.But she remembered the fear.It was a cold, suffocating thing that wrapped around her throat and squeezed. It tasted like copper and smelled like cheap cologne. She remembered screaming, but no sound came out. She remembered fighting, but her limbs wouldn't cooperate.Then nothing.Now she was waking up, and the lavender was gone.Something soft pressed against her cheek. Silk. Expensive silk. The kind she couldn't afford on h

The walk to the meeting room felt like a death march.Daisy's heels clicked against the marble floor, each step echoing in the cavernous hallway. The dress Valentina had left behind was a masterpiece of cruelty—blood-red silk that clung to every curve, slit so high it was practically obscene. Daisy felt exposed. Vulnerable. Like a lamb being led to slaughter.Enzo walked beside her, close enough that his arm brushed hers. He was a wall of cold, controlled power. His face was carved from stone, revealing nothing. But his hand found the small of her back, pressing lightly, guiding her forward."Remember," he murmured, his lips barely moving. "Cold. Cruel. Unfeeling."Daisy nodded, her throat too tight for words.They reached a set of massive double doors. Two guards flanked the entrance, their faces blank. They opened the doors without a word, and Daisy stepped into the lion's den.The room was enormous, dominated by a long mahogany table that could seat thirty. Crystal chandeliers hung

The silence stretched between them like a chasm.Daisy sat on the edge of Enzo's bed, her hands trembling in her lap. She could feel his eyes on her, cold and assessing, the warmth from moments ago completely extinguished. He was a stranger again. A predator sizing up his prey."Answer me," he said, his voice flat. "Who are you really?"Daisy forced herself to meet his gaze. "You know who I am. I told you. I'm Daisy Thorne. I own a flower shop in Maine. I was kidnapped and brought here against my will.""And yet you kissed me," Enzo said, his tone cutting. "You held me. You told me this was real.""It was real," Daisy whispered, her voice cracking. "It still is. I don't know how to explain it, Enzo. I don't know why I feel this way. But I'm not lying about who I am. I'm not Valentina. I've never been Valentina."Enzo's jaw tightened. He pulled a photograph from his pocket and tossed it onto the bed beside her."Then explain this."Daisy looked down at the image, and her blood ran cold

Daisy woke to the sound of hushed voices and the smell of antiseptic.She blinked her eyes open, her vision swimming. The ceiling was white—not the ornate, gilded ceiling of her penthouse room, but something simpler. Clinical. A private clinic, she realized, as her eyes adjusted to the harsh fluorescent lights.What happened?She tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness crashed over her. She fell back against the pillows, her heart pounding."Easy," a voice said. Gentle. Familiar.She turned her head and saw Carmen sitting in a chair beside the bed. The hacker looked exhausted—dark circles under her eyes, her usually perfect pixie cut disheveled."How long was I out?" Daisy asked, her voice hoarse."Two days," Carmen said. "You collapsed. Stress. Exhaustion. The shock of what Matteo revealed."Daisy closed her eyes. It came flooding back—the photograph, the birth certificate, Matteo's triumphant smile, Enzo's shattered expression."I'm Valentina's twin," she whispered. "I'm Lucia's dau