Page 137 of Cole

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the door slid open, and Jude emerged, turning to offer his hand to someone inside.

Annie held her breath as a slender figure stepped onto the helipad.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Though she’d seen photos, nothing had prepared Annie for the visceral shock of seeing her own face on someone else. Angela—Angelica—stood hesitantly by the helicopter, her blonde hair shorter than Annie’s, but otherwise she was unmistakably identical. She wore a burgundy peacoat and cream scarf, her hands clutched tightly together.

Behind her, another young woman emerged—taller, with dark brown curly hair and a fuller figure. This must be the sister Angela had grown up with.

Time seemed to slow as Angela’s gaze locked with Annie’s. For a heartbeat, the world around them disappeared—the helicopter, the family, the frigid January air—leaving only two identical women staring at each other across twenty-four years of separation.

Angela took a tentative step forward, then another, her blue-green eyes never leaving Annie’s face. The resemblance was uncanny, beyond what photos could capture—the same slight tilt of their heads, the same way they clasped their hands together.

“Hello,” Angela said, her voice so similar to Annie’s own that it sent a shiver down her spine, but it had a Southern lilt to it. “I’m… well, I guess I’m Angelica.”

Annie swallowed hard, finding her voice. “I’m Annalisa. Everyone calls me Annie.”

A ghost of a smile flickered across Angela’s face. “Annie and Angie. They kept that part the same.”

The other woman stepped up beside Angela, looping her arm through Angela’s. “I’m Kiara,” she said, her voice also carrying a slight Southern accent. “Angie’s sister.”

Her dad moved forward then, his composure remarkable despite the emotion Annie could see swimming in his eyes. “Welcome to our home. I’m Duncan Burke.” He extended his hand first to Angela, who hesitated only briefly before taking it.

“It’s… overwhelming to meet you,” Angela said softly. “I’ve had a few days to process this, but it still doesn’t feel real.”

Julian stepped forward next, his usual swagger replaced by an uncharacteristic uncertainty. “I’m Julian. Your brother.” His voice caught on the last word.

Angela’s eyes widened slightly as she shook the hand he offered. “Nice to meet you.”

The wind picked up, swirling around them on the helipad. Elizabeth stepped forward. “Why don’t we continue our introductions inside where it’s warm? We have refreshments prepared.”

As they moved toward the SUV, Annie found herself hanging back slightly, watching as her father and Julian flanked Angela, both eager to reconnect. Elizabeth fell into step with Kiara, already striving to make her feel welcome with gentle questions about their flight.

Annie trailed behind them, but Jude caught Annie’s eye as she passed him, giving her a small nod that somehow conveyed both understanding and encouragement. He’d always been perceptive.

A short time later, the warmth of the house enveloped them, a stark contrast to the winter chill. As they shed their coats in the entryway, Annie couldn’t help but notice how Angela’smovements mirrored her own—the same way they tilted their heads to remove scarves, the same hand gestures.

Benji appeared in the doorway to the main living room, his eyes widening as his gaze went from Annie to Angela and back again.

“Wow,” he breathed, momentarily forgetting his manners. “That’s… incredible.”

“This is Benjamin,” her father said, placing a hand on Benji’s shoulder. “My youngest.”

Angela smiled tentatively at Benji. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You can call me Benji,” he offered, recovering his composure. “Everyone but my dad does.”

As they moved into the living room, Annie noticed Angela taking in the lavish surroundings—the high ceilings, the original artwork, the tasteful but clearly expensive furnishings. Her expression remained neutral, but her eyes seemed to miss nothing.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable,” Elizabeth gestured toward the arranged seating area where a spread of refreshments awaited on the coffee table.

Angela and Kiara settled onto one of the sofas, their shoulders touching in what was most likely a show of solidarity. Annie chose an armchair slightly apart from the others, grateful for the small buffer of space.

“I imagine you have questions,” her father began once everyone was seated, his gaze fixed on Angela.

“A lifetime of them,” Angela replied softly. Her accent was subtle but distinct—a gentle Southern lilt that differentiated her voice from Annie’s. “But I hardly know where to begin.”

“Perhaps with how we found each other?” her father suggested.

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