Aurora stepped into ’The Opulent Crumb’ her entrance delayed by a mere ten minutes—an annoyance she attributed to her so-called mother’s relentless harassment through an endless stream of unknown numbers.
The moment she crossed the threshold, a wave of nostalgia washed over her as her eyes took in the restaurant’s grandeur. The Opulent Crumb wasn’t just a dining establishment; it was a haven of prestige and sophistication, adorned with three Michelin stars and celebrated among the top five restaurants in the world.
The atmosphere whispered of luxury, from the shimmering crystal chandeliers casting their golden light across the polished marble floors to the lush velvet drapes that swayed like silent guardians of its culinary secrets.
"Well," she murmured to herself, a faint smirk playing on her lips as her gaze roved over the opulent surroundings, "they’ve kept it just the way it was."
Her eyes roamed the space, every detail evoking memories that tugged at her heart. The last time she had dined here was with Jeremiah, sealing a business deal beneath the warm glow of chandeliers, just three months before the lab explosion that had marked the end of her existence. Ten months had passed since that fateful day—ten months since she had died.
She thought, Well, yes... it’s been ten months since I died. When I should have been in hell, torturing those wretched bastards who betrayed my master and me, I woke up in this body instead. Why?
Her gaze softened as it swept over the familiar interior of the restaurant. A quiet tinge of emotion flickered in her chest—a sensation she wasn’t used to allowing herself to feel. This place had once been one of her favorites, a small sanctuary where she could indulge in her love for exquisite food, a rare comfort in the storm of her past life.
I wonder... is the chef still here? Or did he leave after I perished?
Aurora reached the private room she had reserved, shaking herself free from the swirling thoughts of her past. Taking a steadying breath, she opened the door and stepped inside.
Sebastian Harper was seated at the table, his attention fixed on his phone while Liam stood beside him, assisting with something on a tablet. The low hum of work-related conversation abruptly ceased at her arrival.
"Good evening, Mr. Harper," Aurora greeted, her tone composed, though laced with a subtle edge of professionalism.
Sebastian barely glanced up, offering no response. Aurora’s gaze then fell on the small girl sitting beside him—a pale-faced child, her posture rigid yet radiating a weighty aura. She clutched an iPad, her delicate fingers moving deftly across its screen. Despite her youth, there was something about her presence that felt... daunting.
The girl met Aurora’s gaze briefly, her icy eyes betraying no emotion. Indifference radiated from her as she dismissed Aurora with a flick of her gaze, returning her attention to the screen as though nothing had happened.
Aurora arched a brow but said nothing, gliding into the chair across from Sebastian with calm detachment. Well, she thought, settling into her seat, it seems pleasantries aren’t exactly a strength in this room.
Sebastian’s gaze slowly lifted to meet Aurora’s and for a moment, he was caught off guard. She looked... different. The subtle softness of her face had sharpened into defined angles, her skin glowing with an almost ethereal radiance. She carried herself with an air of refreshing vitality that hadn’t been there just a week ago.
His surprise lasted only a fleeting moment before he masked it, his demeanor returning to one of cold detachment. He leaned back slightly, his deep, roguish voice filling the room. "Doctor!!" it seems punctuality isn’t a virtue you practice. Even when it’s your own arrangement." His tone was calm but carried an undercurrent of challenge.
Aurora met his gaze, her own expression unreadable. For a split second, she appeared dazed, as if processing something, but the moment passed, and a small smirk tugged at her lips. "Well, Mr. Harper, I have the upper hand here, don’t I?" she replied smoothly, her voice steady yet tinged with a hint of playfulness. "However, I do apologize for keeping you waiting—I ran into some... trouble."
Sebastian’s dark eyes locked onto hers blazing with an intensity so fierce it felt as though they could scorch straight through her, a gaze heavy with purpose and sharp enough to cut through steel.
Aurora held his gaze, unflinching, her smirk unwavering. The tension in the room thickened, but after a moment, Sebastian let out a low hum of acknowledgment, his attention shifting away as if signaling his disinterest in pursuing the subject.
Aurora straightened in her seat, her gaze shifting from casual observation to cool professionalism. Her tone was steady as she asked, "So, Mr. Harper, what reports do you have that require my attention?"
Sebastian’s dark eyes flickered back to her, the sharpness in his expression unwavering. He gestured to Liam, who promptly handed over a sleek black folder, placing it neatly on the table between them.
"These," Sebastian began, his voice calm but laced with authority, "are the latest medical reports for my sister. I want your analysis, Doctor, and I need to know if there’s any detail our previous physicians might have overlooked."
Sebastian’s gaze softened slightly as he gestured toward the girl sitting beside him. "This is my sister, Jenny," he began, his deep voice laced with concern. "I brought her along without prior notice because her condition has worsened significantly. She’s been vomiting frequently and even coughed up blood this morning."
Aurora was momentarily taken aback upon realizing that the fragile little girl, barely six years old, was Sebastian’s sister. Her surprise stemmed from the assumption that his sibling would be closer to her age—or rather, the age of her current identity, Aurora. However, she quickly gathered her composure, letting her trained professionalism take over.
Turning her attention to the child, she carefully observed her: the pallor of her skin, the dark circles under her eyes, and the faint tremor in her small frame. Years of medical experience honed her instincts, and she immediately recognized the signs of severe fatigue and systemic weakness.
"Hi, Jenny," Aurora said softly, her voice gentle yet steady. "I’m Aurora. Could you let me see your hand?"
Jenny didn’t lift her gaze, her icy indifference unwavering, but she wordlessly extended her hand toward Aurora.
Aurora took the small, cold hand in hers and began examining her pulse with practiced care. Her brows furrowed slightly as she concentrated, her fingers detecting subtle irregularities. Time seemed to stretch as Aurora pieced together the clues her touch revealed.
Jenny, accustomed to endless doctor visits and examinations, broke the silence with a sweet but resolute voice. "Miss, it’s okay if you don’t find anything," she said, her tone tinged with resignation far too mature for her years. "No doctor ever does. They always say it’s genetic but can’t figure out why."
The girl withdrew her hand, her movements deliberate yet weary. She turned her gaze to Sebastian, her icy facade momentarily cracking to reveal exhaustion. "Brother, take me home," she said simply, her voice soft yet resolute.
Before Sebastian could respond, Aurora’s calm yet deliberate voice broke the silence.
"I can save her," she said, her voice steady and assured, carrying the weight of an unspoken promise. Aurora’s eyes lingered on Jenny, a quiet calm settling over her features, masking the storm of thoughts hidden beneath. Yet, beneath that composed exterior lay a labyrinth of emotions and intentions that no one—not even the sharpest gaze—could hope to unravel.
Aurora’s gaze swept over the room before settling on Sebastian. Her voice was calm, measured, yet carried an undeniable weight. "The reports I reviewed earlier were thorough in documenting the genetic disorder and its progression. Now with her fragile body and weakness in her body it shows that.... —how any aggressive treatment could be life-threatening."
She leaned back slightly, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest of her chair. "But something doesn’t add up. This condition, severe as it may be, shouldn’t have escalated so quickly, especially at such a young age. Typically, its more dangerous effects manifest much later in life."
Her voice lowered, laced with a subtle sharpness. "This is no natural progression. There’s something else at work here—something hidden, insidious. Whatever it is, the reports have failed to unearth it." Her piercing gaze lingered on Sebastian as if daring him to challenge her assessment.