Chapter 4

~ LENA ~

The drive to New York felt unreal.

Everything happened so fast. One moment, I was standing in the hospital in New Jersey, happy and relieved that Sofia had survived the surgery and was recovering well. The next, I was sitting in the back seat of a sleek black Range Rover, feeling like a slave being transported to her owner.

Julian sat beside me in the chauffeur-driven car, calm and composed as usual.

“Lena, you really need to relax.” He’d noticed how tense I was. Anyone could see it just by looking at my face. “You have nothing to worry about.”

I almost laughed. Nothing to worry about. As if my entire life hadn’t just been rearranged by a signature and my desperate need for money. For the next six months, my life belonged to them. I belonged to Nathan Blackwood.

Julian had made it clear what flouting the terms of our agreement would cost me.

“Your mother seems like a good woman,” he’d said to me at the hospital, sounding calm as his eyes passed a subtle but firm message. “She’s worked very hard to build a quiet life for herself here. It would be a shame if anything disrupted that.”

His words had been delivered softly, but they paralyzed me with fear.

Of course, he knew. A man who could deposit a million dollars into my account without blinking was a man who clearly had leverage. His leverage in this case was the knowledge he had about my family. He knew about my mother’s undocumented status, and that alone was enough to keep me in line and make sure that I didn’t even think about breaking our agreement.

Before leaving, I had told my mother a lie I’d rehearsed over and over again in my head. I told her my boss had sent me on an urgent assignment, that he’d requested I go to New York immediately to help with the setup of a new branch, and that I would be there for some months. She’d believed me.

Meanwhile, I’d written my resignation letter, submitted it to the company and cleared out my desk.

I felt bad lying to her, but I couldn’t imagine the horror on her face if she knew what I’d just signed up for.

My only consolation was she wasn’t going to be alone. Thank God, she had her younger sister. Aunt Celeste lived alone. I could count on her to be there with Mother all through Sofia’s recovery.

Because my mind was busy, the rest of the journey passed in a blur. Soon, we were in Manhattan and the car was pulling up in front of a cozy, private little townhouse on the Upper East Side. Julian led me inside.

“Where is this?” I asked him, eyes sweeping over the tastefully furnished living room.

Julian closed the door behind us. “This is Kim’s apartment.”

The words landed heavily. My gaze moved around the room again, slowly this time, noticing the different framed pictures of Kimberly on the walls and shelves—pictures of Kim alone, smiling and striking a seductive pose for the camera. Kim standing in front of Nathan Blackwood, his arm around her waist from behind, smiling like a man deeply in love. And several others.

“You’ll be staying here till the wedding,” Julian announced. “You need to familiarize yourself with this space and everything about Kim. To make it easy for you, Dahlia will be assisting.”

Before I could ask who Dahlia was, a woman stepped out of the kitchen as if on cue. He introduced her as Dahlia, his trusted Personal Assistant.

“Dahlia is going to assist you with everything you need.”

By everything, I assumed he was talking about a wardrobe change since I hadn’t been allowed to bring any of my clothes along.

“She’s going to make this whole process easy for you. Listen to her and do everything she tells you.”

With that, he left us alone.

Dahlia didn’t waste any time after Julian left.

“Come along, Miss Martinez,” she said smoothly. “We have work to do.” Her voice was calm but it carried a sharp undertone that warned me not to question her.

She was all poise and sophistication. Perfectly styled blonde hair, nails polished, and a subtle expensive perfume trailing after her.

I swallowed hard, trying to calm the storm of nerves twisting in my stomach as I followed her outside to where her sleek car was waiting.

Dahlia drove us straight to a high-end boutique, which I noticed on entering, seemed to have been reserved exclusively for us. Asides from the staff, we were the only two there.

“To become Kim,” Dahlia pointed out, “you have to match everything about her, starting with your wardrobe. Kimberly has a very specific style—sleek…elegant…effortlessly glamorous.”

I nodded, though inside I was panicking. Sleek and effortlessly glamorous wasn’t me. God, how on earth was I supposed to become this woman?

At Dahlia’s request, attendants moved quickly, selecting outfits, lingerie, shoes, handbags, jewelry, everything. Everything was carefully chosen to match Kimberly’s signature style. I tried on dress after dress, modeling them in front of Dahlia for her approval. Every curve-hugging outfit felt alien to my body. Yet, the more I tried them on, the more familiar they were starting to feel.

Next stop after the boutique was the beauty salon. Again, they all seemed to be waiting for me.

My naturally thick and wavy hair was straightened, silk pressed and transformed into Kimberly’s sleek, polished style, with a few inches of it trimmed off to match her exact mid-back length.

As for makeup, it was polished and understated—soft contouring to define my high cheekbones, eyeliner-sharpened smoky eyes, and glossy nude lips to complete the look.

When I finally looked in the mirror, the face staring back wasn’t Lena Martinez. It was Kimberly. My lips parted in shock. The only thing that told us apart now was the way I carried myself and Kim’s little mannerisms which I had to learn to mimic. Dahlia reminded me that those were just as important as matching her looks.

By the time we returned to the apartment, the sun was already sinking and exhaustion had settled deep into my bones.

“Rest,” Dahlia said, lips curved in a subtle, rare smile. “We’ll continue tomorrow.”

Thankful, I slipped out of the car, gathering the several shopping bags stacked in the backseat and headed inside.

I barely remembered dropping them on the sofa or kicking off my shoes. The moment I found the bedroom, my body gave in. I collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep instantly.

*     *     *

The next morning, the knock on the door came just as I finished fastening the zipper of my dress and putting finishing touches to my makeup—Kim’s style.

I opened the door to Julian, immediately feeling his gaze sweep over me, slow and assessing, from head to toe.

I was wearing one of the dresses Dahlia had chosen the day before. A casual, sculpted, dusty rose bandage dress that hugged my body like it was made for me. Being Latina had blessed me with a natural hourglass figure which most women went under the knife to achieve. It was just perfect because Kim and I had the same kind of figure.

Julian’s mouth curved slightly. “Impressive,” he said. Then turning to Dahlia standing beside him, “You outdid yourself, Dahlia. I can’t tell the difference.”

I already knew why they were here. As we settled into the living room, the schooling began.

Dahlia took the lead. She drilled me relentlessly, teaching me how to stand, walk, talk and act in the same graceful and poised manner as Kimberly. Our voices already matched but every other thing had to be exactly the same to make the transformation believable.

She played short videos of her, made me see who the real Kimberly was and how to impersonate her perfectly. Every little detail from the tilt of her chin to the way she smiled.

Julian filled in the rest, explaining everything I needed to know.

Kimberly was an influencer. He showed me her social media pages. Her last post had been about two weeks ago, before she vanished. He told me how Nathan had met her, everything about their relationship.

“Nathan is a man that loves with all his heart,” Julian explained. “And when he hates, it’s the same.”

My breath hitched at that statement. Why did that sound like a warning?

He told me everything about his cousin—Nathan’s likes, his dislikes, his habits, favorite wine, what made him laugh, what irritated him. Important things about his life.

I soaked up information Julian gave like a sponge. Every knowledge mattered.

“We’re expecting him back in two days. That gives you time.”

After they left, the apartment settled into silence once more. I wandered through it slowly, touching furniture, looking at photos. I picked up a framed picture of Nathan, studying his incredibly handsome face with a frown.

How on earth could any woman walk away from a man like this?

While I was still wondering, a sudden knock echoed through the apartment.

Could it be Julian? Had he forgotten something?

I opened the door and my heart stopped beating.

It wasn’t Julian. It was Nathan Blackwood.

Before I could speak, he pulled me into his arms, crushing me against him as his mouth came down hard on mine with a hunger and desperation that knocked the breath out of me.