Chapter Two: A New Identity

The past never truly fades. It lingers like a scar, a shadow stretching long behind every step forward.  

Fifteen years had passed since that night—the night her world was drenched in blood and the sound of gunfire. Elena Carter had spent every single one of those years preparing for this moment. Studying and training her ass off to be here.

Tonight, she was no longer that helpless little girl.  

Tonight, she was a detective.  

And she was going to bring the Mafia to its knees.  

    **The Briefing Room**  

The Organized Crime Unit was exactly as she had imagined it—loud, chaotic, and filled with the scent of stale coffee and cigarette smoke that clung to the air like an old memory.  

Elena walked through the precinct, her polished boots clicking against the floor, her uniform perfectly pressed. She carried herself with confidence, but the murmurs still followed her.  

 *"Carter’s daughter."*  

 *"Think she’s ready for this?"*  

 *"She won’t last a week."*  

She heard it all. But It didn’t matter what they thought. It never had.  

She had trained harder than anyone, fought for every case she was assigned, and refused to let her past define her. Yet no matter what she did, she would always be **Detective Michael Carter’s daughter**—the little girl who had watched her father die in a pool of his own blood.  

But today, she would prove she was more than a legacy.  

She took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the briefing room.  

Inside, Captain Reeves—a grizzled man in his fifties with sharp eyes and a permanent scowl—stood at the front of the room. A few officers were seated around the table, their eyes flickering toward her as she entered.  

"Detective Carter," Reeves acknowledged her without looking up.  

She took a seat, her heart pounding in her chest.  

The screen at the front of the room flickered to life, displaying a grainy surveillance photos of a man—**Adrian Moretti**.  

The air in the room felt heavier.  

The man in the images had **dark, piercing eyes, a chiseled jaw, and an aura of absolute control. He was ruthless, unreadable, and untouchable.  

Her breath hitched.  

"Moretti."

The name alone sent a pulse of white-hot rage through her veins.  

"This," Reeves began, tapping the screen, "is Adrian Moretti, the man at the top of the Moretti crime syndicate. He controls nearly every underground operation in this city—gambling, weapons, extortion, and drug trafficking."  

Elena’s **hands curled into fists** under the table.  

Reeves continued, "For years, we’ve tried to get someone on the inside. Every informant we’ve had has either disappeared or turned up dead. Moretti doesn’t trust easily, and when he does, he owns you."  

A different officer, Detective James Holloway, a tall man with a tired expression, spoke up.  

"We have reason to believe he’s tied to several murders—including Michael Carter’s."  

Elena went still.  

Every muscle in her body tensed.  

She had suspected it. Hoped for it. And now, hearing it confirmed, her heart pounded violently against her ribs.  

She forced her voice to remain steady. "You’re sure?"  

Reeves met her gaze. "We don’t have direct proof, but Moretti’s men were active in that area the night your father was killed. That’s enough for me."  

**Enough for her, too.**  

Reeves turned back to the screen. "Which brings us to why you’re here."  

Elena’s pulse **raced**.  

"You want me to go undercover."  

Reeves nodded. "Moretti has recently expanded his operations, opening an exclusive club in the city. He recruits employees personally. If you can get in, gain his trust, and find out how he operates, we might finally have enough evidence to take him down."  

A **cold determination** settled in Elena’s chest.  

**This was it.**  

The mission she had been waiting for.  

Reeves studied her. "This isn’t just another case, Carter. This man is dangerous. If you do this, you need to be prepared to play your role perfectly. That means lies. That means **deception**. And it means doing whatever it takes to make him believe you belong in his world."  

Elena met his gaze. "I can handle it."  

Reeves sighed and reached for a **thick manila folder** beside him.  

"Then this is who you are now."  

He slid the file across the table.  

Elena exhaled slowly, then flipped it open.  

A crisp **fake ID** was clipped to the first page.  

**Name:** *Elena Russo*  

**Age:** *26*  

**Background:** *No family. No connections. A woman who had spent most of her life on the streets, surviving however she could.*  

Her **photo** stared back at her—a version of herself she had yet to become.  

"You need to **memorize everything** in that file," Reeves instructed. "Where you were born, what you’ve done, how you got here. If Moretti asks, you answer without hesitation. If you slip up once, you’re dead."  

Elena nodded, flipping through the pages. The deeper she went, the more it felt like she was **reading someone else’s life**—a version of herself that had been rewritten.  

No parents. No past.  

No father who had been murdered.  

No childhood spent haunted by the sound of a **gunshot ringing in her ears**.  

She swallowed the lump in her throat and shut the file.  

“Elena!” Reeves called, his eyes locked on her.

“No slip ups. If he finds out that you are an undercover agent, you woon’t live to tell the story, so you must play your part well and be good at it.”

"I’ll learn it."  Elena replied as she met his gaze.

Reeves studied her for a long moment before leaning forward.  

"I need you to understand something, Carter. This is **not just another case**. You are walking into a world where loyalty is everything. If Moretti so much as suspects you, **he won’t hesitate**."  

"I know," she said firmly.  

His jaw tightened. "No, I don’t think you do. Because the minute you step into his world, you don’t just **act** like you belong—you **become** Elena Russo."  

She met his gaze. "Then I’ll become her."  

Silence stretched between them before Reeves finally exhaled.  

"Alright," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. "Then get ready. **You start tomorrow.**"  

The meeting ended, and as the other officers filtered out, Elena gathered the file, walking briskly to her **new desk**.  

The station **buzzed with activity**—phones ringing, officers exchanging reports, the scent of stale coffee hanging in the air.  

As she sank into her chair, she felt a presence beside her.  

"Welcome to the force," a voice said.  

She looked up to see **Detective James Holloway** standing beside her desk. He was in his early thirties, with sharp eyes and a casual smirk. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing a faint scar along his forearm .

"Elena Carter, right?" he continued, leaning against her desk. "Or do you prefer ‘Carter’s daughter’?"  

She arched an eyebrow. "I prefer **Detective Carter**."  

Holloway grinned. "Fair enough. So, first day at Organized Crime huh—you ready to be thrown to the wolves?"  

"I don’t scare easy."  

"That’s what they all say," he mused. "Then the job chews them up."  

Elena studied him. "You don’t think I’ll last?"  

Holloway shrugged. "Let’s just say… the last cop who tried getting close to Moretti disappeared. No body, no leads. Just gone. Diappeared into the thin air"  

She held his gaze. "Then I won’t disappear."  

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something else. Instead, he just sighed.  

"Well, if you ever need a partner who doesn’t want you dead, I’m at the desk across from you."  

With that, he walked away.  

Elena exhaled, gripping the file in her hands.  

Tomorrow, she would **become** Elena Russo.  

And once she was inside Moretti’s world…  

She wouldn’t leave until she had justice, she said to her self as she leaned forward to study the files in front of her.

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