This story is a continuation, and contains spoilers, of this one: Five   The storm roared outside, turning the windows of the airport’s VVIP lounge into black mirrors reflecting five identical faces — but souls that danced to their own rhythm. Camila, Valentina, Sofia, Luna, and Isabela — blue-eyed quintuplets with bodies that defied logic and statistics — had been stuck there for hours, their flight to an exotic destination indefinitely delayed. Mr. Smith, the wealthy man who had brought them together for one explosive night in Buenos Aires, wasn’t there. Called away on business, he’d left the day before, abandoning them alone. Empty champagne flutes lay scattered across the…