A GOLDEN EMPIRE

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

AURORA SITS IN HER ASTON MARTIN, waiting for her sister's arrival. As stated earlier, Odette has been in Italy, on a fashion internship with SAINT LAURENT. She's been sending Odette texts but the younger girl's phone must be on airplane mode. Duh Aurora.
Shut the fuck up conscience. No one asked you!

Aurora checked the time again on her ROLEX, the polished gold reflecting the faint sunlight breaking through the overcast sky. It wasn't like Odette to be late, especially not when she'd been raving about how much she missed home and Aurora's company in her sporadic texts. The silence of the parking lot outside LAX felt deafening, only broken by the occasional honk or the chatter of hurried travelers dragging their suitcases to and from terminals.

What's the hold-up? Aurora thought, tapping her perfectly manicured nails on the steering wheel. She adjusted her oversized sunglasses, hoping the action masked her growing irritation.

Her thoughts wandered. What stories would Odette have? Aurora imagined tales of glamorous soirées, late nights in Milan, and learning under some of the most exclusive fashion designers in the industry. Not that she'd ever admit it, but she missed Odette's chaotic energy. Their dynamic, with Aurora's perfectionist tendencies and Odette's free-spirited nature, was often messy, but it worked. Most of the time.

Aurora's phone vibrated on the passenger seat. A notification popped up: Flight delayed. Now arriving: 4:45 PM.

"Are you kidding me?" Aurora groaned, slumping back against the plush leather seat. She had already been waiting for nearly an hour, and the thought of killing another forty minutes made her skin crawl. Reaching for her iced coffee, now lukewarm and almost empty, she sighed.

She considered texting Odette again, but what was the point? Airplane mode, her inner voice sneered. Instead, she pulled up Instagram and began scrolling mindlessly, pausing only to like a post or smirk at someone's questionable life choices.

Then she saw it. A tagged photo of Odette—at what appeared to be a beachside party in Positano. Champagne flute in hand, designer bikini, laughing with a crowd of equally well-dressed strangers. The timestamp read: 11 hours ago.

Aurora's grip on her phone tightened. You've got to be kidding me.

Her sister wasn't late because of a delayed flight. She wasn't here because she had been partying. So much for "I miss you, sis!" Aurora's frustration morphed into anger. The nerve of that girl.

Before she could stop herself, she hit the call button. The dial tone rang once, then twice, before the voicemail clicked on. "Hi, this is Odette. Sorry I missed you, leave a message!"

Beep.

"Odette, it's Aurora. Just landed in California, huh? Or should I say, still sipping spritzes in Italy?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "I don't know what's going on, but you better have a good explanation when you get here. If you bother showing up."

Aurora ended the call and tossed her phone back onto the seat. The pit in her stomach wasn't just anger. It was worry, too. Odette could be reckless, yes, but this felt different. Something about the whole situation didn't sit right.

She started the engine, her car humming to life. If Odette wasn't going to come to her, maybe it was time for Aurora to take control.

Time to make some calls.

Aurora navigated her way out of the LAX parking lot, gripping the wheel tighter than usual. The hum of her Aston Martin wasn't the usual soothing symphony; it was drowned out by the buzz of her thoughts. She didn't know if she was more irritated by Odette's irresponsibility or by the nagging suspicion that something bigger was happening.