Chapter 5

The next day at noon, I sat by the window at Blue Bottle Coffee in SOHO, checking my watch for the third time.

11:55 AM.

My palms were slick with sweat. I clutched the printed email tightly. "E.D."—those two letters kept spinning through my mind.

Who could it be? Why did they want to meet me? What did they know?

The Americano on the table had gone cold. I hadn't touched it. My stomach churned.

At exactly noon, the café door swung open.

A woman in a beige trench coat walked in.

My heart seized violently. I froze in my seat.

How could it be her?! E.D.—Eleanor Donovan, the real Donovan heiress!

She scanned the café, her gaze landing precisely on me, then she broke into a gentle smile.

My heart felt like it was in a vice grip.

Something was wrong. What did that smile mean? Mockery? Polite courtesy before declaring war?

"Bella!" She rushed over, arms opening for an embrace.

My mind went blank.

What—what was happening? What was she doing? Humiliating me? Exposing me as a fraud in public?

Her arms wrapped around me, carrying a faint scent of perfume. Every muscle in my body resisted, stiff as wood.

"You..." I pushed her away forcefully, my voice stretched so tight it could snap. "Why did you come to New York?"

Eleanor wasn't deterred by my coldness. Instead, she sat down naturally, draping her coat over the chair back. She looked so composed, elegant like a true heiress.

And I was just a fraud.

A thief who had occupied her place for twenty years.

"I wanted to meet the real you," she said, her eyes clear. "Not the girl who lived in fear at the Donovan house."

My breath caught.

"You..." My fingers gripped the coffee cup tightly. "You're here to reclaim what's yours, aren't you?"

Eleanor blinked. "Reclaim what's mine?"

"I took your place." I heard myself say, my voice trembling. "For twenty whole years. I lived in the room that should have been yours, wore clothes that should have been yours, called the people who should have been your parents Mom and Dad. I—"

"Bella." Eleanor interrupted me, her voice soft. "You think I came to take all that back?"

"Isn't that why?" I gave a bitter laugh, my eyes burning. "It was all yours to begin with. I'm just... an imposter who took your place."

Silence.

Jazz music flowed gently through the café, but the air between us was suffocating.

Eleanor ordered a cappuccino, her fingers tapping lightly on the table. Her nails were neatly trimmed, no polish—clean and simple.

"Do you know how I've spent these twenty years?" she suddenly asked.

I shook my head, my throat tightening.

"In my family," Eleanor's voice was calm, terrifyingly calm, "I never had real friends."

I froze.

"Everyone who looked at me had a certain... expectation in their eyes." She smiled bitterly. "Expecting me to become a certain kind of person, to make certain choices. They didn't love me—they loved the 'me I was supposed to be.'"

My heart clenched painfully.

That feeling... I knew it all too well.

"And you," Eleanor looked up at me, "at the Donovan house, was it the same? Always feeling like a fraud, afraid one day you'd be exposed?"

Tears nearly spilled from my eyes.

"Is that why you worked so desperately to prove yourself?" she asked softly.

"Yes." I nodded, my voice choking. "I had to make myself valuable, otherwise... otherwise I'd truly be nothing."

Eleanor reached out and took my hand.

Her hand was warm, her grip gentle, but that tenderness completely shattered my defenses.

"Bella, I'm not here to take anything back." She looked at me seriously. "Those things—the room, the clothes, the title—they never belonged to me, and they don't belong to you. They only belong to the role of 'the Donovan family's daughter.'"

I stared at her, stunned.

"I came to find you because I want to know you as a person," Eleanor said. "Not the Donovan heiress, not the person who took my place, just you—Isabella, the jewelry designer chasing her dreams in New York."

My tears finally fell.

"But... but I ruined your life," I choked out.

"You didn't ruin my life." Eleanor interrupted me, saying softly, "I'm fine. Really. I have my own life, my own pursuits. And right now, I just want a friend. A friend who truly understands me."

I shook my head, sobbing. "I don't understand... why don't you hate me?"

"Because it's not your fault." Eleanor squeezed my hand. "You're a victim too, aren't you?"

I stared at her, tears blurring my vision.

She looked so sincere, so open. No hatred, no jealousy, only... understanding.

"Can we be friends?" Eleanor asked. "Real friends, not enemies."

I nodded hard, tears streaming down my face.

"Thank you," I choked out.

Eleanor smiled, tears glistening in her eyes too. "Silly girl, what for?"

In that afternoon café, we sat like that, all defenses dropped.

"Your jewelry designs are truly excellent," Eleanor suddenly changed the subject, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Especially that 'Declaration of Independence' bracelet."

I wiped my tears. "You've seen my work?"

"Of course." She smiled. "And not just me—Alex has too."

My heart stopped.

"Alex?" My voice completely changed pitch.

Eleanor stirred her coffee thoughtfully, her tone casual. "Speaking of which, Alex has been distracted lately, always asking me about how you're doing in New York."

My face instantly burned. "He... he asks about me?"

"Yeah." Eleanor looked up at me, her gaze meaningful. "Asks in great detail. Whether you're eating well, sleeping well, if work is going smoothly."

My fingers gripped the coffee cup so tightly my knuckles turned white.

Could it be...

Could Alex possibly...

No, impossible. We're siblings. This violates ethics.

But that night, his red-rimmed eyes when he said those things, the tenderness when he touched my cheek, and the credit card he left behind...

"Bella?" Eleanor's voice interrupted my thoughts, with a hint of teasing. "Your face is so red."

"I—I'm not!" I reflexively protested, making myself look even more suspicious.

Eleanor smiled without speaking, clearly seeing through my thoughts.

Damn it.

We talked for a long time. Eleanor asked about my jewelry design, and I was curious about her life at the Donovan house now.

But she always brushed it off lightly, seeming not to want to talk about herself.

"Do you... regret it?" I couldn't help asking. "Going back to the Donovan family."

Eleanor was silent for a moment, then shook her head. "No regrets. Although some things do require adjustment, but... at least I know the truth now."

"Your previous family," I asked carefully, "were they good to you?"

Eleanor's eyes flickered. "They... tried their best."

I didn't dare ask more, afraid of touching her pain.

At 3 PM, Eleanor checked the time and stood to leave.

"I should go. I have an important meeting tomorrow." She put on her coat, adjusting the collar.

I walked her to the door. New York's winter sunlight spilled onto the streets, bathing everything in golden light.

"Bella." Eleanor turned and gave me a warm hug.

This time, I didn't resist.

"I'm so glad we became friends," she whispered in my ear. "Real friends."

I hugged her back, my eyes misting again.

"Also," her voice dropped lower, with a hint of mischief, "maybe you should be braver. Go after what you really want. Don't let so-called rules and identities cage your heart."

With that, she released me, turned, and walked into New York's bustling crowd.

I stood there, watching her figure fade into the distance, my heart a jumble of emotions.

Go after what I really want...

What do I want?

Career? Independence? Or...

Alex's face suddenly flashed through my mind. His red-rimmed eyes demanding why I left, his restraint and forbearance when he touched my cheek, his desperation and intensity when he said "You're all I care about."

My heart began pounding violently.

No. I couldn't think like this.

But I couldn't control it anymore.

I covered my chest, feeling that strange, burning emotion surge through me. Like magma, like a tsunami, like everything I'd desperately suppressed exploding all at once.

Damn it.

I was in love with Alex.

The man who was supposed to be my brother.