Julia.Black.Everything was black. Then light. Voices… muffled, far away.“Miss Easton! Julia! Can you hear me?”I felt something warm nudging my shoulder. The world slowly came back into focus. My vision stung. My head throbbed. My limbs felt like they were filled with sand.“Wha—” I croaked, trying to sit up. “What happened?”My driver, Carlos, was leaning over me with panic smeared across his face like paint. “You fainted. You passed out cold. I was about to call for help.”I blinked hard and rubbed my temples, trying to ground myself, but when I looked out the car window, I froze.People. Everywhere.A swarm of bodies pressed close to the car, their faces twisted in rage. Phones held high. Shouts echoing through the glass. Signs. I couldn’t read them all at once, but a few burned into my brain.THIEF.JUSTICE FOR THE PEOPLE.EASTON = FRAUD.I sucked in a sharp breath. “What the hell?”Carlos looked terrified. “They found out, Miss. The embezzlement. The ledgers. The story went na
Julia.I hated how hot it was today. Even in my best silk dress, I could feel sweat prickling under my arms, but I smiled anyway. Cameras were everywhere, and I could already hear Ivory’s voice echoing in my mind “This is how it starts. This is how you build public love. And before you know it, you're so famous and powerful.”I adjusted the hem of my dress and gave a nod to my camera guy, Brian.“Get this angle,” I told him, crouching slightly to hug one of the kids in front of the donation banner. “Make sure you capture their smiles. Not just mine.”He gave a thumbs-up and kept snapping. I patted the boy’s head gently and handed him the backpack full of supplies. He lit up, his grin wide, missing teeth and all.Ivory and the other club members flitted around me, all draped in pastels, all cooing and posing like porcelain dolls for photos. The charity center buzzed with laughter and camera shutters. I waved over Brian again.“Post the group pictures. Caption it something warm… maybe s
Camilla.I set my cutlery down slowly, carefully. The clink of silver against porcelain was intentional, soft, deliberate. A pause to mark the shift in the air. Julia, across from me, had been basking in the glow of her own dreams for far too long. She didn’t know she was walking into a trap with her name etched across every wire.I leaned forward slightly, offering her a tight, polished smile.“You know,” I began, letting my voice drop just enough to sound confidential, “if you really want to be accepted into the circles I mentioned… you’ll need to prove financial independence.”Julia blinked. “I already own my company, Ivory. That is financial independence.”I nodded slowly, like I was humoring her. “Of course. But owning something and showing it off strategically, those are two different things. The club I’m talking about? They don’t just want businesswomen. They want movers. Risk-takers. Women who turn dead assets into weapons.”Her gaze sharpened with interest, like I’d dangled
Camilla.I stood at Julia’s front door, frozen, like some fool waiting for a sign from the universe. Ten whole minutes. That’s how long I’d been standing there, pretending to be calm. I’d even tried that breathing trick Carol swore by, deep inhale through the nose, hold, slow exhale through the mouth. Supposed to be calming. Supposed to reset the nervous system.Didn’t do a damn thing for the inferno inside me.Every part of me screamed to walk away, to run. My hand hovered near the doorbell, then fell. I couldn't bring myself to press it. I stared at the stained glass of Julia's door like it held answers. Like I might see her face behind it. Just thinking about her made my jaw clench so tight it ached.Julia.I could feel the old rage crawling up my spine like a cold wind. My fists were tight at my sides, nails digging into my palm.Then came the hand on my shoulder.“Jesus!” I flinched and turned, nearly elbowing Carol in the face.“Relax, it’s just me.” Carol gave me a side-eye and
Camilla.I sat still, my back straight as a rod, in front of the ornate mirror while Miri worked her fingers through my hair. The brush moved rhythmically—slow, steady strokes as she pinned strands into place. “You nervous?” Miri asked softly, gathering a section of my hair and twisting it with practiced grace.I smirked at her reflection. “What gave it away?”“You’ve been holding your breath every three seconds,” she said, tugging gently to guide my head. “It’s a dead giveaway.”I exhaled, slow and shaky. “It’s just a gala.”Miri gave a little snort. “A gala with every cutthroat businessman and politician within a hundred-mile radius, hosted by the most powerful family in the Eastons’ network. Yeah, just a gala.”I rolled my eyes at her sarcasm, though it helped made things feel normal. Real. But just as quickly, a knot twisted in my stomach again.“Everyone who’s someone will be there,” Miri continued. “The senator from Cresthill, the D’Amico brothers, even that creepy old Minister
Camilla.The mirror didn’t lie.Not this time.I stared at the woman who stared back. My skin, usually warm-toned, was paler now, softened by the prosthetics glued with surgical precision to my cheekbones and jawline. My once jet-black curls had been transformed into icy blonde waves, cascading down my shoulders in effortless perfection. Contact lenses shifted the hue of my eyes from deep brown to stormy grey. My voice, now smoky, lilting, unfamiliar had taken me days of practice to perfect.“Say it again,” Carol said from behind me.I closed my eyes for a second, then whispered, “My name is Ivory.”“Louder. With purpose.”“My name is Ivory.” I opened my eyes and met hers through the reflection. “Grey leaned against the wall, arms folded. His jaw was tight, as usual.“You don’t just look different,” he murmured. “You are different.”I stood slowly, running my fingers down the soft silk of the white blouse Carol had chosen for me clean, sharp lines. Ivory on ivory.“Everything about y