Chapter 5 - Whispers Behind the Bar Counter
“Don't go digging into that past, young lady,” Arthur warned me softly, walking over to unpin the polaroid from the wall.
“Why not, Arthur? Who was that woman in the picture?” I demanded, grabbing the edge of the wooden counter.
“That was Elena Vance, Julian’s late first wife, who supposedly died in a tragic boating accident five years ago,” Arthur whispered.
My breath caught in my throat. “First wife? But I’ve lived in this city my entire life, and I look identical to her.”
“Nobody knows the whole story, kid. The Vance family buried that tragedy under millions of dollars and sealed court documents,” Arthur added.
He slid the polaroid into his vest pocket, refusing to answer any more questions as he walked back toward the kitchen.
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The revelation hit me like a physical blow, leaving me dizzy and disoriented amidst the hum of the espresso machine.
How could a stranger from a wealthy, elite dynasty share my exact face, my exact smile, and my mysterious intuition?
