The new identity

Morning light sliced through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the private recovery suite, casting sharp shadows across the room.

It had already been two weeks since the surgery and the man in the mirror was no longer Vanel Lense. He wore a crisp white shirt tucked neatly into black trousers. His posture was straighter than before, his shoulders broader and his movements more restrained.

Yet the unfamiliar face staring back at him still felt like a stranger's.

Praise slowly lifted a hand, tracing the sharp line of his jaw. Only his eyes remained the same: gray-blue, haunted and burning with a quiet fury. There were no scars or trace of the man who had nearly drowned in that river. The face that once begged for Dylan Loperse’s approval was gone.

Now it belonged to someone far more dangerous.

A knock interrupted his thoughts. “Come in," he ordered. The lead physician entered, carrying a thick leather folder. “You’re recovering faster than expected.” Praise lowered his hand.

"Physically." The doctor smiled.

"Your body healed.” His eyes drifted toward the mirror. "The rest will take longer".

Praise opened the folder that was earlier given to him. Inside were everything needed to prove his existence: a passport, a driver’s license, bank accounts, medical files, educational certificates, even childhood photographs and background history. Every page told the story of a man named Praise Renard.

A man who had supposedly been born overseas before returning to build a quiet life. He turned each page slowly and it was flawless.

From the university graduation photograph to the childhood vaccination record. The recommendation letter from a former employer, utility bills, tax records and even an old family photograph showed a smiling boy standing between two people he had never met.

Everything looked authentic. Someone hadn't simply created a name; they had manufactured an entire lifetime. Praise couldn't help wondering how much power was required to erase one existence and replace it with another.

“Praise Renard,” he murmured, tasting the name. “Who built all this for me?”

“The man who saved your life,” the doctor said. “That’s all I can tell you.” Praise closed the folder, his jaw tightened. He had trusted strangers before and sadly, one of them had destroyed him.

---

That afternoon, a convoy of black luxury vehicles rolled into the hospital grounds. Guards snapped to attention. A distinguished man in his early sixties stepped out of the lead sedan.  His silver hair and impeccable charcoal suit with the quiet power of old money radiated from his every movement.

It was Victor Laurent, the Chairman of Laurent Holdings. It was one of the few conglomerates that made even Aurelius Luxe look small. He entered the suite, studying Praise with his sharp, appraising eyes.

“You must be wondering who I am.”

“You are…,” Praise said coolly.

“Victor Laurent.” Praise had heard the name countless times.

Laurent Holdings controlled luxury hotels, fashion houses, jewelry brands, private banks, and media companies across several countries. Rumor had it that politicians sought his approval before making major economic decisions. If someone of this caliber had personally come to meet him, then his rebirth wasn't an act of charity. It was part of something much larger.

Victor wore a warm but calculated smile. “I knew Vanel Lense. I watched you on the runway more than once. You never treated the clothes as mere fabric. You respected and felt them.” Praise’s throat tightened, no one had ever spoken to him like that.

 “That’s why I couldn’t let you die.” Victor’s expression darkened.

“You pulled me from the river?”

“My people did. We just swapped the identification. The world believes Vanel Lense is dead. Legally, socially and professionally, there is no going back.”

“Why me?” He asked but Victor just smiled.

"Because revenge isn't the only reason I saved you.” He searched the older man's face.

"Then what is the reason?"

Victor smiled, but this time there was sadness behind it. "One day you'll understand." He never answered. Praise slowly exhaled, absorbing the finality. Vanel Lense was buried and only Praise Renard remained.

Victor sat across from him. “There’s something else you need to know. Your accident was no accident.”

Praise went still. “What?”

“The truck that hit your taxi vanished. The driver was never found and surveillance footage disappeared. Someone wanted you gone.”

“Why?” A chill crawled down Praise’s spine. He refused to explain further. He just slid a cream-colored envelope across the table. Praise opened the envelope and his pulse spiked.

Position Available: Live-in Personal Butler

Employer: Dylan Loperse.

A dark, bitter laugh escaped him. “The man who destroyed me… needs a butler?”

“The last one resigned yesterday,” Victor said. “The timing is perfect. You’d have full access to his private residence. His routines and secrets.”

Silence settled over the room. Praise lowered his gaze to the envelope. Becoming Dylan's butler meant waking beneath the same roof every morning. Preparing his meals, learning his habits. and listening to conversations no outsider was ever meant to hear.

It also meant standing only a few feet away from the man who had destroyed him.

Could he really keep pretending?, Could he look into those cold gray eyes every day without revealing himself?

Slowly, a smile spread across his lips. He had spent seven years trying to earn Dylan's approval. But this time, Dylan would unknowingly invite his own downfall.

His mind raced. Seven years ago, he had stood before Dylan as a desperate model, craving nothing more than a single word of approval. Now he would walk into the man’s home. Close enough to breathe the same air and strike.

He folded the letter with deliberate care.

“I’ll take it.”

Victor stood. “Be careful, if he discovers who you really are, even I won’t be able to protect you.” He walked back to the mirror, the stranger staring back no longer felt foreign.

He buttoned his cuff; his eyes hardened with a cold purpose. This time, he wasn’t walking onto a runway hoping for approval. He was stepping into Dylan Loperse’s world.

And when he was done, he would take everything from the man who had once thrown him away.

                                                   **********

Dylan looked up from another mountain of paperwork.

"Derrick."

"Yes, sir?"

"Has the agency sent a replacement?"Derrick hesitated before speaking again."The agency assured me he's exceptionally qualified."

Dylan signed another document without looking up."Competence isn't proven on paper." He stated.

"People reveal themselves eventually."

Derrick gave a respectful nod. "I'll make sure everything is ready before he arrives."

Dylan closed the file in front of him. "One more thing."

"Yes, sir?"

"Tell the staff I don't want unnecessary conversations." He warned. "Anyone who can't follow the rules can leave."

"Understood." Derrick quietly left the office.

Rain slid down the glass, blurring the city skyline. Dylan returned to his paperwork without another thought. He had no idea the man he had buried two weeks ago would be standing in his home by this time tomorrow.