The door to the master bedroom flew open with zero warning, just like always.
“Rise and shine, Mrs. Johnson!” Aurora’s voice cut through the morning haze like a blade. She was already fully dressed in a tight white top and designer jeans, her hair cascading in perfect waves. “We’re going shopping. No excuses. You look like death warmed over, and I refuse to let my twin waste away in this depressing penthouse.”
I groaned, pulling the covers over my head. After last night’s cold shoulder and that overheard phone call about the Landmark Project, sleep had been nonexistent. “Aurora, it’s barely eight.”
“Exactly. Prime shopping hours. Get up.” She yanked the duvet off me in one dramatic pull. “Consider this sisterly intervention.”
I wanted to argue, but the truth was I was desperate to get
