Seven years into my relationship with Julian Croft, when the fire broke out, he put the only gas mask on the face of his sweetheart. “Sophie has asthma. Hold your breath a little longer — rescue is almost here.” I watched the burning beam crash down from above, and looked at the countdown panel on my wrist ticking to zero. Then I pressed the button labeled Terminate Host Body. Three days later, firefighters pulled a charred corpse from the rubble. Julian broke through the police cordon like a man losing his mind — only to find the body with its hands pressed tightly over its heart, clutching the little paper ring he’d once folded on a whim. And me? I was sitting on a private jet bound for Wall Street, swirling a glass of red wine. Across from me sat his uncle — the one everyone said had died young. The unhinged, unpredictable one. The fire inside the abandoned chemical plant spread faster than anyone had anticipated. Acrid chemical fumes mixed with thick smoke, clawing their way into my lungs with every breath. Julian held Sophie tightly against his chest, his other hand locked around the single gas mask he’d just wrestled away from the security station. There was only one mask. And the fire escape leading up to the rooftop had already been swallowed by flames. A helicopter circled outside the plant, its rotors thundering — but the smoke was too dense. There was no way to land. A piece of shrapnel from an exploded steel rod had torn straight through my left arm. Blood soaked through my white shirt, dripping from my fingertips onto the scorching concrete floor, evaporating the instant it landed. “Julian. Help me.” I used the last clean breath left in my lungs to call his name. He turned and looked at me. Something flickered in those dark eyes — a flash of conflict. Then Sophie broke into a violent coughing fit, her whole body going limp in his arms. “Julian… I can’t breathe… it hurts so much…” She clutched the front of his shirt with both hands, tears streaming down her face, her skin pale as paper. The hand holding the gas mask tightened. Julian didn’t look at me again. He turned away and pressed the mask firmly over Sophie’s face. “It’s okay. Don’t be scared. Just breathe.” “But what about you and Audrey?” Sophie’s voice came out muffled through the mask, thick with tears. Julian’s hands didn’t pause for even a second as he adjusted the straps. “She’s trained in diving. Her lung capacity is fine. She can hold on until the firefighters get in.” But he’d forgotten — my left arm was already destroyed. The pain and blood loss made it hard just to stay standing, let alone hold my breath in a room full of toxic fumes. The helicopter dropped a rope ladder. The moment Julian lifted Sophie up and she began climbing, she turned and looked back at me. Those eyes — the ones that had been filled with suffering just moments ago — were now sharp with triumph and mockery. She mouthed the words at me: You lose. The smoke had completely swallowed my vision. My lungs felt like they were being shredded by a hundred blades. Julian turned back, searching through the wreckage for anything wet he could use to cover my mouth and nose. “Audrey, hang on. The fire crew is almost through.” There was an edge to his voice — subtle, but unmistakable. Impatience. “Sophie has asthma. She can’t handle this. Just wait a little longer.” Right on cue, a flat mechanical voice sounded in my head. [Host. Affection level for target has stalled at sixty percent. Mission deemed a failure.] [System countdown initiated. Ten. Nine. Eight…] The virtual panel on my wrist — visible only to me — flashed red, frantic and relentless. Seven years together. Over two thousand five hundred days and nights. All of it, not enough to outweigh Sophie saying she couldn’t breathe. I stared at the man still searching through the debris not far from me. He never knew. I had claustrophobia too. I was afraid of pain too. [Three. Two. One. Countdown complete.] [Terminate Host Body and dissolve binding — confirm?] My fingers trembled as I raised my hand and pressed confirm. Above me, a load-bearing beam — burned red-hot — came crashing down. Julian finally panicked. He lunged toward me through the sparks and flames. “Audrey, move!” The fire swallowed me whole. Before I lost consciousness entirely, I pressed the little ring he’d once folded out of a candy wrapper hard against my chest, over my heart. The heat warped the air around me. The last thing I heard was Julian’s voice — raw, breaking, screaming my name.
Three days later. Forensic Identification Center in Oakhaven. A suffocating, sickening reek of formaldehyde hung heavy in the hallway. Julian’s eyes were red and bloodshot. His designer suit had been burned through in several places, the edges singed black. He shoved past the officers trying to hold him back and stumbled toward the cold examination table. The white sheet was yanked away. The body had been exposed to temperatures exceeding two thousand degrees for far too long. What remained was barely recognizable as human — a deeply charred mass, curled in on itself, blackened beyond distinction. Julian stared at it, his whole body shaking uncontrollably. “That’s not her… You’re lying to me!” “Audrey couldn’t stand pain. There’s no way she would’ve burned like that!” The forensic examiner on duty let out a quiet sigh. “Mr. Croft, we found this at the victim’s chest — her hands were clutching it tightly, even in death.” An evidence bag was held out in front of him. Inside was a crumpled, half-melted piece of foil candy wrapper. Seven years ago, when Julian had nothing to his name, he’d folded it into a makeshift engagement ring for her. It had been shielded by flesh and bone, buried at the very deepest point — which was the only reason even this small remnant had survived. Julian stared at the twisted scrap of foil, his knees buckled, and he crashed down hard onto the cold tile floor. A sound tore from his throat — raw and broken, like a dying animal. Sophie rushed in from the doorway and reached out to steady him. “Julian, don’t do this. Audrey wouldn’t want to see you like this—” She never finished the sentence. Julian shoved her away with enough force to send her stumbling to the ground. She hit the floor with a sharp cry. He didn’t even glance at her. He just pressed the evidence bag against his chest and wept like a man who had lost everything — like a man who had lost his mind. At the same moment, thirty thousand feet above the earth. Inside a private jet bound for Wall Street, the climate control system hummed along in perfect silence. A flight attendant approached and presented a glass of chilled Romanée-Conti. “Madam, your wine.” I took the crystal glass and murmured a quiet thank-you. After the system severed its bond with me, my soul had been recast into a new body. My memories remained intact, but this body carried no trace of burns. Even my left arm — the one that had been impaled by a steel rod — was smooth and unmarked, as if nothing had ever happened. Beside me, the man turned a page of his book — a German-language original — and his low, slightly hoarse voice drifted through the quiet cabin. “You seem quite pleased with your new skin.” I turned my head toward him. He was wearing a black silk shirt. Pale complexion. Almond-shaped eyes with a faint teardrop mole at the corner. He shared maybe half of Julian’s features, but where Julian ended, this man went somewhere darker — something cruel and unhinged ran all the way down to his bones. Elias Croft. The true power behind the Croft family. The youngest son, and the one Julian’s grandfather had always loved most. The same man Julian had been guarding against for ten years — the uncle he’d dreamed of destroying. Five years ago, during the Croft family’s internal power struggle, Elias had been caught in an explosion on a yacht in international waters. He was never found. Everyone assumed he was dead — swallowed by the sea. Only Julian knew the truth: until there was a DNA confirmation, that CEO chair he sat in would never feel like solid ground. I took a sip of the wine. The cold liquid slid down my throat. “A body is just a tool. As long as it works, that’s enough.” Elias closed his book. His heavy gaze settled on my face, sharp and probing — the way a snake sizes up its prey. “Audrey is dead. From now on, your name is Blair Sterling.” “Blair — it’s time to prove what you’re worth.” I met his gaze without flinching, a cold smile pulling at the corner of my lips. “You’ve been hiding for five years. Wasn’t that exactly what you were doing — waiting for the perfect moment to strike?” “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” “You need someone who knows Julian’s weaknesses. Someone who can help you take back everything.” “And I want to make his life a living hell.” The pressure inside the cabin dropped to something glacial. Elias let out a low laugh. His long fingers tapped a slow, idle rhythm against the leather armrest. “I look forward to working with you, my accomplice.”
Three years passed in the blink of an eye. Tonight, every light blazed in the Park Hyatt — the grandest hotel in Oakhaven City. Julian, the current CEO of Croft Group, was hosting a charity gala, and nearly every name in the city’s elite social circle had been invited. I stood at the entrance to the ballroom in a striking black backless couture gown, my hand resting on Elias’s arm. The noise of the room died the instant we appeared. Every eye in the place locked onto my face, as if they’d seen a ghost. Somewhere in the crowd, someone sucked in a sharp breath. “Is that… Audrey?” “Didn’t she die in that chemical plant fire three years ago? She was cremated. They buried her ashes!” The whispers spread like wildfire. I ignored every stare and walked straight toward the center of the room. Julian was standing with a champagne flute in hand, only half-listening to whoever was flattering him at the moment. Sophie was nestled close to his side, carrying herself with the quiet ease of someone who had already settled into the role of Mrs. Croft. The commotion reached him. Julian turned. The moment he saw me, it was like he’d been struck by lightning. The champagne flute slipped from his fingers and shattered against the marble floor. Deep red wine splashed across his expensive dress pants. “Audrey…” His voice was trembling so badly he could barely get the words out. His eyes went bloodshot in an instant, and he forgot how to breathe. Julian — always so untouchable, so above it all — could barely keep himself on his feet. He stumbled forward, shoving through the crowd, trying to get to me. Sophie grabbed his sleeve and held on for dear life, her nails digging into his arm. “Julian, get a grip!” “Audrey is dead. You carried her ashes yourself!” “This is just some woman who looks like her!” Her sharp voice cut through the eerie silence like a knife. Julian stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at my face, searching desperately for any sign that this was some kind of trick. I reached over and plucked a glass of red wine from a passing waiter’s tray, raising it toward him from across the room. “Nice to meet you, President Croft.” “I’m Blair Sterling — Executive President of North America Region at Apex Capital.” The system had reshaped my body, but it couldn’t touch my face. Still, under Elias’s careful arrangements, I now had a new identity — airtight, unassailable. The shock in Julian’s eyes slowly curdled into something obsessive. Suspicious. He suddenly strode toward me, his gaze locked onto my left arm. “If this is really our first time meeting,” he said, “then maybe you can explain why you’re wearing my dead wife’s face.” Three years ago, in that fire, a steel rod had torn straight through my left arm. He had watched that wound bleed with his own eyes. Now he was using it as a test. I let out a soft laugh. Right there, in front of everyone, I slowly slipped the silk shawl from my shoulders. My left arm was bare — smooth, pale, flawless. No puncture wound. No burn scars. Perfect. Like something sculpted from marble. Julian’s pupils contracted sharply. Whatever last shred of hope had been living behind his eyes — it was gone. Sophie saw her opening. She immediately shifted into her helpless, pitiful routine. “Ms. Sterling just looks so much like a dear friend I lost.” “Julian has been grieving. Please don’t take it personally.” She slipped her arm through Julian’s and pressed herself against him — a quiet, deliberate claim. “I’m curious, though — are you here tonight representing Apex Capital, or someone else?” Sophie’s eyes slid warily to Elias, standing at my side. Elias was wearing a silver half-mask that left only his sharp, angular jaw exposed. No one recognized him — the man who had once held the reins of the entire Croft family empire. I took a slow sip of wine. My smile didn’t reach my eyes. “Who I represent isn’t the interesting part.” “What’s interesting is that I’m holding something President Croft is going to want very much.” I pulled a document from my clutch and slapped it down on the champagne tower beside us. The crystal glasses swayed. President Croft’s eyes dropped to the cover page. The color drained from his face. It was a share acquisition proposal — targeting the core new energy project at Croft Group. And the name of the acquiring party, printed right there in black and white: Blair Sterling.
Sophie’s expression curdled instantly. She reached out to snatch the document. A hand in a black leather glove got there first. Elias calmly pulled the document away and handed it to the assistant beside him. “Blair’s things,” he said, his voice low and deliberately quiet, “aren’t for just anyone to touch.” The cold edge in his tone made Sophie flinch. She shrank back and ducked behind Julian. “Julian, they are out of line!” “This is a charity gala — they came here just to start trouble!” Julian didn’t even glance at her. His eyes never wavered from my face, holding a kind of bone-chilling insanity. “Who are you, really?” “The reserve price on that project is Croft Group’s most classified information. How could you have hit it so precisely?” That data — Julian had encrypted it himself, specifically to keep the board in the dark. And I was the one who had written the code logic behind it, line by line, over seven years. No one in the world knew his algorithm patterns. No one except him. And the dead Audrey. I watched the vein pulse at his temple and idly brushed my nails against my fingertips. “President Croft must have a short memory.” “Business is war. Apex Capital is simply better at playing the game.” Julian lunged forward and seized my wrist. His grip was crushing — like he wanted to grind the bones to dust. “Impossible!” “The backdoor to that algorithm — only Audrey knows it!” “Are you even her?!” The familiar flutter in my chest never came. Instead, a wave of deep disgust washed over me. I watched him lose his mind, my expression cold as ice. The day of the fire, he hadn’t hesitated for a single second before strapping that gas mask onto Sophie’s face. Had he spared even one thought for me? “Please conduct yourself with dignity, President Croft.” I wrenched my hand free and, in one smooth motion, threw what was left of my wine straight into his face. The dark red liquid trickled down his sharp nose and bled into the white of his shirt. A wave of sharp gasps swept through the hall. Sophie shrieked and lunged forward, fumbling with her handkerchief as she frantically dabbed at him. “You crazy woman! Security! Get her out of here!” Several broad-shouldered guards closed in immediately. But Julian just stood there, hollow-eyed, letting the wine drip. He stared at his own empty palm, murmuring to himself. “The temperature’s wrong…” “Audrey’s hands were always cold. Yours are warm.” A body rebuilt by the system wouldn’t carry the perpetual chill that years of anemia had left behind. I didn’t bother wasting even a glance on him. I turned and slipped my arm through Elias’s. “It seems President Croft isn’t in any shape to talk business tonight.” “Let’s go.” I’d barely taken a step when a thunderous crash exploded behind me. I turned. Julian had collapsed straight down, hitting the floor hard, shattering glass in every direction. What had been a perfectly elegant dinner party dissolved into chaos in an instant. The wail of an ambulance cut through the night sky over Oakhaven. On the ride back, sitting in the Rolls-Royce, Elias pulled off his mask to reveal that hauntingly beautiful face beneath. “You provoked him on purpose.” Not a question. A statement. I leaned back against the leather seat, closed my eyes, and pressed my fingers to my temple. “I just wanted him to get a taste of what he lost.” “Compared to everything he’s done, that barely counts as an appetizer.” Elias turned the black onyx ring on his finger and let out a quiet, dry laugh. “When a woman decides to be ruthless, men really don’t stand a chance.” The cabin fell silent, nothing left but the low hum of the engine. Then my phone screen lit up. A text from an unknown number — no name, no contact saved. “Tomorrow night. Eight o’clock. Abandoned warehouse, west side of the city. Come alone. Don’t, and you’ll regret it.” A photo was attached. In it: a gas mask, burned completely black. The same one Julian had put on Sophie’s face three years ago.
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