Chapter 5 - The Bookstore on Newbury Street
The snow was falling in heavy, wet flakes over Boston, dusting the brownstone stoops of Newbury Street with a layer of pristine white.
Elena pulled her cashmere wool coat tighter around her shoulders as she pushed open the brass-trimmed door of Ink & Ivy Books, a cozy, independent bookstore tucked between a high-end art gallery and a quiet cafe.
A small brass bell chimed overhead.
The interior smelled of old paper, roasted coffee beans, and cedarwood. A young woman with shoulder-length dark hair and sharp, expressive brown eyes looked up from behind the cash register, holding a stack of hardcover novels.
"Welcome," the girl said with a polite, pleasant smile. "Let me know if you're looking for anything specific."
Elena froze.
Her breath caught in her throat. Her legs suddenly felt like lead.
Standing behind that counter wasn't just a bookstore clerk. The curve of the cheekbone, the intense, piercing gaze, the slight asymmetry of the left eyebrow—it was a mirror image of the reflection Elena had stared at in her own bathroom mirror every morning for twenty-four years.
It was Lily.
"Ma'am?" the girl asked, her smile faltering slightly as she noticed the pale, stricken expression on Elena’s face. She set the books down on the counter and stepped forward. "Are you alright? Can I get you a glass of water?"
Elena couldn't speak. Tears welled instantly in her eyes, spilling over her lashes and hot against her freezing cheeks. She took one faltering step forward, reaching out a trembling hand as if afraid that if she touched the girl, she would dissolve like mist.
"You're... you're Lily," Elena choked out, her voice breaking into a ragged sob.
The girl—Lily Hayes—stepped back instinctively, a look of profound confusion and sudden caution crossing her face. "I'm sorry? Do I know you? My name is Lily, but..."
Before Lily could finish her sentence, the heavy front door swung open again, letting in a gust of freezing wind and swirling snow.
Heavy footsteps echoed across the wooden floorboards.
"Elena!" a deep, commanding voice boomed through the quiet bookstore.
Elena spun around. Standing in the doorway, his broad shoulders dusted with white snow, his charcoal overcoat open, stood Marcus. His steel-gray eyes swept the room, landing instantly on Elena, and then shifting slowly toward the young woman behind the counter.
Marcus stopped dead in his tracks.
May you like
The color drained entirely from his face. For the first time in his life, the invincible billionaire industrialist looked as though the ground had literally vanished beneath his feet.
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