Mission fail?

​Liana moved quickly, practically power-walking through the wide corridors. 

She kept her chin up and her gaze fixed straight ahead, acting like she knew exactly where she was going, even as her pulse hammered in her throat. 

Her mind was spinning with a million questions at once.​

Who was that guy? Where did he even come from?

​He had spoken to her with this terrifying, suffocating authority—like he owned the entire building, the land it sat on, and every single soul inside it. How had he figured out so fast that she didn't belong?

 But what bothered her most, what sent a cold, prickly shiver down her spine, was his face. Those sharp grey eyes, the rigid jaw, the razor-clean line of his profile… why on earth did he seem so unnervingly familiar? It felt like a song she couldn't quite remember the lyrics to, a ghost of a memory hovering just out of reach at the very edge of her mind.

​Up ahead, she spotted a heavy mahogany door. At this point, she didn't hesitate. She grabbed the handle, ducked inside, and let the heavy wood swing shut behind her, cutting off the quiet hum of the hallway.

​

She leaned her back against the cool door, closing her eyes as she tried to calm her raging mind. Her heart was still thrashing against her ribs from the encounter.

​When she finally opened her eyes, she realized she had ducked into a lavish private restroom. Marble floors, warm lighting, and the faint scent of expensive lilies filled the space. She walked slowly over to the massive gold-framed mirror above the sink and caught sight of her reflection.

​

Liana let out a heavy sigh for like the fifth time today.

​The cold coffee stain on her blouse looked terrible, a dark brown splotch ruining the crisp fabric, and there was a slight smudge near her collar where she had hit his chest.

'​This was a mistake' 

she thought, gripping the edges of the porcelain sink until her knuckles turned white. 

'A huge, ridiculous mistake'.

​What was she even doing here? Dressed up under someone else's identity, sneaking into an exclusive country club like a criminal? Oh god. 

She should just pack it up right now, call a ride, go straight back to Nina’s house, and pretend today never happened. She could crawl under the covers, pull Ava close, and forget she ever tried to play this game.

​But then again, going home meant giving up. It meant going right back to square one with zero job leads, no steady income, and no security for her daughter. Sarah had pulled major strings and risked her own reputation just to get her this pass. She couldn't throw away that advantage just because a grumpy stranger in an expensive suit threw her off balance.

​"Get it together, Liana," she muttered, staring directly into her own eyes in the mirror.

​She took a deep breath, pulled out her compact powder, and quickly fixed her makeup, patting away the shine and resetting her posture. She looked at her reflection again—her dress was ruined, but at least she had come prepared. 

Liana had packed a golf outfit in her tote bag just in case.

​She stripped off the stained blouse and trousers and changed quickly. The new fit was sharp and effortless: a fitted white sleeveless polo paired with a navy pleated tennis skirt. She pulled her dark hair up into a high, neat ponytail, laced up her white sneakers, and adjusted the matching visor.

​She took one last look in the mirror. She didn't look like a panicked intruder anymore. She looked like she belonged here.

​Taking another deep breath, she stepped back out into the corridor. It was mostly quiet now, as the majority of the guests had migrated toward the fields. Liana slipped right into the flow of people heading toward the massive glass doors that led out to the main course.

​Stepping out into the warm afternoon sun, she shielded her eyes and began scanning the rolling green hills. Sarah had sent her a picture earlier, so she knew exactly who she was looking for.

​And then she saw him—the assistant.

​He was standing near one of the putting greens, holding a sleek leather folder and chatting casually with a small group of wealthy-looking investors.

​A small, confident smile touched her lips. Finally. All she needed to do was go over there, make a quick, great impression, get his business card, and leave before security realized "Claire Sterling" was a ghost.

​She smoothed her skirt, lifted her chin, and put on her best, most professional smile. She was going to walk over there looking poised, elegant, and completely in control.

​

She picked a path through the green, keeping her posture tall and effortless, just like back in her modeling days. She was only a few feet away from the assistant's group, ready to clear her throat and introduce herself seamlessly

​Then her sneaker hit a patch of freshly watered, soaked grass.

​Her foot went completely out from under her.

​THUMP.

​Liana hit the wet ground hard, landing flat on her back with an ungraceful, breathless oomph. Her visor popped right off her head, rolling into the damp turf beside her.

​The entire group went dead silent, turning to look at her.

​Liana lay there staring up at the bright blue sky, the dampness of the grass soaking right through her clean white polo, her mind completely blank for three whole seconds.

​Fuck my life.