CHAPTER TWELVE

Penelope's POV

The first thing I registered was warmth. The second was the faint scent of lavender, crisp linen, and something undeniably expensive. My eyelids fluttered open, and I found myself staring at an intricately designed ceiling, golden accents gleaming in the soft glow of the chandelier above.

A luxurious bedroom.

For a split second, disorientation gripped me. Then it all came rushing back. The estate. The girl calling me Aunt Maddie. The suffocating heat. Julien's arms catching me before everything went dark.

My gaze flickered downward, where a thin IV tube was connected to the back of my hand. A saline drip. They must have called a doctor.

Carefully, I pushed myself up against the headboard, taking in the room. It was grand yet refined—cream-colored walls, heavy drapes, and a king-sized bed with silk sheets that felt like clouds beneath my fingers. Across the room, an elegant vanity and a seating area completed the picture of wealth.

I wasn't dead. That was a start.

A gentle knock sounded at the door, followed by a familiar voice. "Maddie?"

Julien.

The door cracked open, and he stuck his head inside, his sharp green eyes scanning me before he stepped in completely. In his hands, he carried a neatly folded gown—a soft lemon colour with delicate butterfly sleeves.

"I brought you something more comfortable," he said, placing the dress on the foot of the bed. "You should change out of that dress. I know you're probably still feeling weak, but Dr. Wilson came by. He said it was just a fever. You need rest."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak just yet.

Julien moved closer, his face unreadable. "We're having dinner later this evening. You don't have to join if you're not up to it. I can have your meal sent here."

Relief flooded through me. I wasn't ready to face an entire table of people who had known Madison intimately. "That would be nice," I said, my voice quiet but steady.

Julien exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Good. You scared the hell out of me back there."

I offered a weak smile. "Sorry."

"You should be," he murmured, a ghost of a smirk flickering across his lips. "You look better now, though."

He was watching me too closely, his sharp gaze assessing every movement, every breath I took. I needed to keep up the act.

Slowly, I shifted to sit up, but the moment I moved, Julien was there, his strong hands steadying me before I could even protest. "What do you need?" he asked, his tone softer now. "I'll get it for you."

I hesitated. "Just some cold water."

His grip on my arms lingered for a second before he settled me back against the pillows. "Rest, I'd go get it for you." he instructed. Then, in a move that left me momentarily stunned, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"I love you," he murmured.

Then, just like that, he turned and walked out of the room.

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering against my ribs.

This was dangerous.

I sank deeper into the bed, gripping the sheets between my fingers as I tried to process everything. My pulse hadn't even begun to slow when the door creaked open again.

"Julien?" I called out, expecting him to have returned with the water.

No response.

I turned my head—and my breath caught in my throat.

A woman stood at the doorway, poised and composed. She was in her early sixties, though she barely looked it, with striking light brown eyes that locked onto mine with unnerving intensity. Her dark brown hair, styled in an elegant updo, complemented her perfectly tailored beige ensemble.

I knew her.

Marie-Anne Laurent.

Julien's mother. Madison's stepmother. Founder of Boho Luxe Jewellery. A woman whose name alone held power.

My stomach twisted.

What if she noticed the differences? What if she saw right through me?

Marie-Anne stepped inside, her movements slow, deliberate. Every step exuded an effortless grace that spoke of a lifetime of wealth and influence. It was easy to see where Julien got his charisma.

She stopped at the edge of the bed, her lips curving into something that wasn't quite a smile.

Then, in a voice as smooth as silk but sharp as glass, she said,

"You are not Madison."

My entire body went cold.