"Good morning, sweetheart," Mr. Josh called from the hallway, adjusting his cufflinks.
"Morning, Uncle," Dorothy replied, stepping out of her room looking crisp and composed in a tailored suit. "I'm ready. Should I wait for you?"
"Yes, dear. Let's have breakfast first."
Dorothy smiled and turned toward the kitchen. She pushed open the swinging door and found Auntie Becky, their longtime nanny, already setting the table.
"Hello, Auntie Becky."
"Ah, baby girl! Good morning."
"Stop calling me baby," Dorothy chuckled. "I'm a grown woman now. Not the little girl who used to spill milk on your apron."
Becky smiled warmly, shaking her head. "To me, you'll always be that little girl with the wide blue eyes and cookie crumbs on her chin."
"Can I help you serve breakfast?"
"No, dear," Becky waved her off. "Aren't you late for work?"
"Not today. Uncle asked me to wait for him, so we're going together."
"Then go on. I can handle breakfast just fine."
"Oh, nanny, you're as stubborn as ever," Dorothy teased before turning toward the dining room.
She stepped into the hallway and nearly bumped into Dorinda, who was descending the stairs slowly, one hand lightly on the rail.
"You're still here?" Dorinda said with a smug smile. "I thought you'd be at the office by now. You know… trying to impress Uncle again."
Dorothy raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "Does it bother you that I'm still home? Do you want me gone that badly?"
"That's not what I meant," Dorinda said sharply. "It's just… you always like being the center of attention. You go to work early, take over meetings, flash that smile of yours... It's always about you."
Dorothy sighed. "Oh, dear sister. I work because I'm hardworking. Maybe you should try it sometime. And your so-called lung cancer? You're not fooling me. You're lazy. You lie and pretend to get what you want, but I see right through you."
Dorinda's expression twisted, but Dorothy continued, cool and calm.
"You can fool Auntie Sarah, maybe even Uncle sometimes. But not me. I know you too well to ever believe we're truly twins."
She stepped past her and paused. "It's too early for arguments. Don't worry, after breakfast, I'll leave the house. Then you can have all the spotlight to yourself, 'dear sister.'"
"I'd like that," Dorinda snapped. "And the day we became twins? What a curse."
Dorothy didn't reply. She simply walked off, heels clicking confidently against the marble.
Dorinda stood there fuming, then rushed to her aunt's room in tears.
"Auntie," she sobbed, "Dorothy insulted me again. She doesn't want me around. She wants me to disappear."
Sarah looked up from her perfume tray and sighed. "Yes, my dear. I would like that too. Let me see what I can do."
Minutes later, Dorinda and Miss Sarah were already dressed, moving quickly and whispering to one another, their urgency barely concealed.
"Honey, you know you're not well," Miss Sarah said in a soft, coaxing tone. "Why don't you stay home today? Dorothy can take care of things at the office. Right, Dorothy?"
Dorothy, seated calmly at the table, looked up with a polite smile. "Of course, Auntie. Uncle, don't worry—if you're not feeling up to it, I'll manage everything at the office. I'll even come back early to give you an update."
Mr. Josh smiled, warmed by her dedication. "Oh, my dear. Aunt Sarah is exaggerating. I'm fine."
"Well then, you all can rest," Dorothy said as she stood and picked up her sleek leather briefcase. "I'll take care of everything today."
She kissed her uncle on the cheek. "Please rest, okay?"
Mr. Josh nodded, watching her with pride.
"Bye, Uncle. Auntie. Dorinda."
She walked out, her heels echoing with purpose.
Outside, her car—a sleek, pearl-white convertible her uncle had gifted her on her 22nd birthday—waited in the driveway. She tossed her bag in the passenger seat and slid into the driver's seat with practiced ease.
Across the yard, Dorinda watched from the window, arms crossed.
Her own car, gifted by Miss Sarah at sixteen, sat idle in the garage—almost forgotten, just like her.
As Dorothy drove to the office, memories flooded her mind like a fast-moving tide. The hum of the engine and the blur of the city couldn't drown them out.
She thought of her real parents—shadows in a past she barely remembered. Of how lonely she'd felt, even within the grand Basiliou estate. Of Dorinda, who looked like her but couldn't be more different. Where Dorothy walked in truth and discipline, Dorinda wove lies like silk. Dorothy was often scolded for her sister's mistakes—always the one expected to be "the stronger twin."
When she turned twelve, everything changed. Her aunt, Miss Sarah, sent her off to a prestigious boarding school in Pari. Seven years abroad. Seven years of silence, growth, and solitude. From Pari to Italy after spending a month in a mental institution in Pari because of a sick pervert. She learned to adapt, survive, and shine and her revenge.
She came back changed, more refined, more guarded, and enrolled in college before joining the Basiliou family company. Her rise wasn't handed to her. She earned every inch of it through grit and brilliance.
Her life had never been soft, but she had become unbreakable.
As she approached the office, her convertible hummed to a gentle stop outside the tall glass building. The security guard, Bailey, approached with a salute.
"Park the car well for me, Bailey," she said smoothly.
"Yes, madam."
Dorothy stepped out, dressed in crisp white trousers, a fitted white blazer, and a pair of sharp blue heels. She turned heads without trying. Power suited her.
Inside the lobby, Ham, her assistant, greeted her with a grin.
"Hello, beautiful."
Dorothy smirked. "How are you, crazy?"
"Still breathing."
"Call for the executive meeting now," she said, all playfulness gone. "My uncle isn't coming in today—he's not well."
"Yes, ma'am," Ham replied with a nod, already dialing.
Dorothy entered her office, organized her notes, and stepped into the boardroom where the executives were already seated. Calm, composed, she walked straight to the head of the table—the president's seat—and the room quieted.
She opened the meeting with poise and authority, her voice firm yet graceful.
Back at the estate, Mr. Josh remained in his study, nursing a quiet headache. Miss Sarah and Dorinda paced in the hall restlessly.
Theophilus was supposed to arrive by now.
Dorinda was already dressed like a bride in waiting, hair perfectly styled, lips painted with nervous precision. Every second ticked louder in her head.
The flight was delayed—just an hour. But to Dorinda, it felt like years.
Her fingers twisted around her bracelet. She kept glancing at the clock, at the front door, then back to the mirror in the hallway. When will he come?
Meanwhile, at the Basiliou corporate office, Dorothy had just wrapped up the meeting. The room emptied, her colleagues offering nods of respect as they left.
She gathered her files and walked back to her office. The door was slightly open.
She froze.
Someone was sitting in her chair.