Chloe’s POV

The morning light poured through the lace curtains like liquid gold. The air smelled like roses and salt, the kind of scent that made my chest feel tight. The mansion was quiet, too quiet, except for the faint sound of a piano somewhere far away.

I sat at the dressing table, brushing my hair, pretending to be calm. My reflection stared back at me, perfect curls, pale lips, tired eyes. Zoe’s face. Not mine.

The knock came soft but sharp. Three times. Jake.

I quickly ...