LOGINJssica’s heels clicked across the marble floor like daggers. Her red lips curled as she set her designer bag beside Jason’s desk, leaned in, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
“Baby.”
My stomach twisted.
Jason didn’t push her away, he just looked… uncomfortable. His jaw tightened, his eyes flicked briefly to me before he cleared his throat.
I forced my expression to stay neutral even as my nails dug crescent moons into my palm.
That’s when Jessica finally noticed me
Her perfectly glossed lips froze the instant her eyes landed on me.
I could see the flicker of surprise before she covered it with that trademark smile. Sweet, polished, and poisonous.
“Well, I didn’t realize we had company,” she said smoothly.
Without waiting for an introduction, she reached over Jason’s desk and snatched the file from his hand.
“Claire Hart?” Her voice oozed fake sweetness as her eyes swept over me from head to toe. “You studied at Westfield too?”
The way she said it wasn’t curiosity, it was accusation.
I met her gaze calmly. “Yes.”
Jessica’s lips curled into a smirk. “Funny. I don’t remember seeing you around. Then again, not everyone at Westfield was… memorable.”
The air between us snapped with silent hostility.
I wanted to slap that smug smile off her face, but instead, I tilted my head, my smile sharpening just enough to sting. “Of course you wouldn’t. I don’t think you were that close to Elizabeth… not enough to feel comfortable clinging to her man while she’s still fighting for her life.”
Her eyes widened, fury flashing like lightning.
“Excuse me?”
Jason stood quickly. “Jessica—”
But Jessica had already taken a step forward, face flushed with anger.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve talking to me like that, Miss Hart. Do you even know who you’re speaking to?”
Yes, I thought bitterly. To a snake wearing lipstick.
Jason’s voice hardened. “That’s enough, Jessica. Claire, please wait outside.”
The command in his tone startled both of us.
Jessica’s head snapped toward him, disbelief flashing in her eyes. “You’re defending her?”
“This is my office,” Jason said flatly. “And I decide who stays.”
Jessica’s mouth opened, but no words came out. The silence stretched thick and awkward.
I didn’t wait to hear the rest.
I grabbed my bag, blinking rapidly as my vision blurred with tears. The air in that office felt suffocating, heavy with betrayal, and memories I wanted to forget.
How had everything fallen apart so fast?
Just weeks ago, I had everythin, my father’s trust, Jason’s love, a life that made sense.
Now, I was standing outside my own company, crying behind another woman’s face.
I turned to leave, but then—
A familiar black car pulled up in front of the building.
My heart stopped.
Dad.
He stepped out slowly, looking older, thinner. His shoulders bent under invisible weight. The sight of him almost brought me to my knees.
I hid behind one of the marble rails, my hands trembling, tears spilling before I could stop them.
Dad…
He started walking toward the entrance, but suddenly paused. His gaze shifted, sharp as always, landing almost exactly where I stood.
Panic flared.
I tried to duck lower, but it was too late. He gestured subtly, and one of his men. Mr. Hailey, our long-time family guard began walking toward me.
I forced a shaky smile and wiped my face quickly as Mr. Hailey approached.
“Why are you hiding here, miss?” he asked kindly.
My throat tightened. “I… I’m sorry. I just— I didn’t want to disturb him.”
His brows furrowed. “Do you know Mr. Wakefield?”
My voice cracked. “I’m… Elizabeth’s friend. Claire Hart. I came to apply for a job. I just… wanted to see him.”
At the mention of my name, of hers, Dad stopped walking. His eyes softened, a flicker of pain crossing his face.
He stepped closer, studying me with quiet curiosity.
“You’re my daughter’s friend?”
I nodded quickly, wiping another tear. “Yes, sir. I’m so sorry for bringing it up. I just… I wanted to work here. To feel closer to her.”
Something in his expression shifted — grief, recognition, warmth.
“If that’s what you truly want,” he said gently, “then I’m sure Elizabeth would be happy to know it. Jason will contact you soon.”
My lips parted, stunned. “Thank you, sir… thank you so much.”
He nodded once before turning away, the weight of his sorrow etched in every step.
As soon as he disappeared into the building, I stumbled toward the street.
And this time, I didn’t hold back.
The tears came, harsh and endless. The kind that left you breathless.
Because for the first time, I realized something worse than dying:
watching the people you love move on while you’re still here, unseen, unheard, pretending to be someone else.
__
By the time I got home, the city lights had already begun to blur into streaks against the glass. Every step felt heavier, my body dragging behind me as though my soul had run miles ahead.
When I pushed open the apartment door, Red was sprawled lazily across the couch, one leg hanging off the side, flipping through a magazine he probably found in the lobby.
He glanced up as soon as he saw me.
“Whoa,” he whistled softly, tossing the magazine aside. “You look like someone who just returned from battle.”
I let out a tired laugh, unamused. “You’re not wrong.”
He grinned, standing up and walking closer, his crimson eyes glinting mischievously. “Careful, you’ll ruin that pretty lady’s figure if you keep scowling like that.”
I shot him a sharp glare. “Pretty lady, huh? You think I looked this pretty before?”
Red tilted his head, pretending to think. “Hmm… maybe a little less eyeliner and a lot more soul-crushing misery.”
“Very funny,” I muttered, dropping my bag on the chair and kicking off my heels. My feet throbbed, my heart worse.
For a while, silence filled the room, the kind that didn’t need words. Red eventually stretched, yawning like a cat.
“Well, I’m off. Don’t stay up too late, ghost girl.”
And with that, he vanished in a blur of crimson mist.
The clock on the wall ticked softly — 7:04 PM.
The apartment felt too big, too quiet.
I sank onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. My body felt strange, heavy yet hollow, like the air was slipping out of me. A dizzy wave washed over my senses.
“What’s… happening…” I whispered, my vision swimming.
My fingers went numb.
Then everything shifted.
It felt like being pulled underwater, like the world folded inward and spit me out somewhere else.
I gasped, suddenly cold, breathless. When I opened my eyes, I wasn’t lying on the bed anymore.
I was on the floor.
And across from me…
Claire lay there, her eyes wide open, confusion written all over her face.
I scrambled back, my heart hammering, staring at her as she sat up slowly, looking around like someone waking from a long dream.
Elizabeth PovI didn't know what was wrong with me anymore.Claire's soul wouldn't let me concentrate. She kept pushing at the edges of my mind all morning, making everything feel foggy. Shouldn't she have been asleep by now? It was daytime. This was supposed to be my time.I remembered what Red said. Thirty days. That was all we had before everything fell apart. Thirty days to get my revenge, and I hadn't even really started.Just give me a week, I whispered inside my head. Hoping she could hear me. Hoping she'd back off and let me focus. Just one week and I'd figure the rest out.I shoved the report deeper into my bag. The one I'd taken from Jason's office that morning while he was in a meeting. I replaced it with a fake so he wouldn't notice. That report was important. It belonged to my father. Jason had no right to keep it.I stood up and headed for the door. Maybe some air would clear my head. But as I walked toward the cafeteria, something caught my eye through the big glass win
Rashford's Pov The taste of it was still in my mouth. The whole scene in Claire’s apartment, the broken lock, the knife on the floor, that piece of trash Danny pinned to the wall. And Claire, holding a phone with steady hands while her eyes were a storm of something I couldn’t name. The throw she’d used on Danny. That wasn’t a lucky shove. It was training. Expensive training.And then the way she’d broken in my arms afterward, but it didn’t explain the way she’d looked at me when she pulled away. That flicker in her eyes, gone in a heartbeat.Jessica’s furious words echoed: She’s lying about something!I’d dismissed it as jealousy. Now, I wasn’t so sure.I couldn’t sleep. I kept seeing two sets of eyes in the same face. The wide, lost ones of the waitress in my café, and the sharp, challenging ones of the woman who’d faced me down over coffee. Two different people. Or one very good actress.I needed answers that didn’t come from her lips. I called an old contact, a guy named Leo who
Elizabeth's Pov Sunset feels like a sigh.One moment, I’m anchored in the warm, solid weight of Claire’s body, feeling the ghost of Rashford’s embrace like a brand on my skin. The next, the world turns to watercolor. Colors bleed, sounds soften, and I’m slipping… up. Out.It’s not a choice anymore. It’s a law. Like gravity in reverse.The city passes beneath me in a smear of light and shadow. I don’t control the direction. I’m a leaf on a current, pulled toward the one place my soul still recognizes as home.St. Augustine’s Hospital. Room 407.I pass through the wall like it’s mist. The room is dim, lit only by the cold, green glow of monitors. The air smells like antiseptic.And there I am.Elizabeth Wakefield. Or what’s left of her.She’s paler than the sheets. A sculpture carved from wax and wire. Tubes and lines snake from her arms, her nose, connecting her to the machines that go beep… beep… beep… in a rhythm that’s supposed to mean life. It sounds like a countdown.I float clos
Jessica Wilson's POVHumiliation has a taste. It's all I've tasted for three days.That little nobody. That waitress. Smirking at me from the shelter of Jason's arms. Jason, throwing me out of my future husband's office. For her.I sat in the dim corner of a bar that was too expensive for its own good, swirling a glass of vodka I hadn't touched. The ice had melted. I didn't care. My reflection in the dark window was a ghost of the woman I was supposed to be, the elegant fiancée, the soon-to-be Mrs. Jason Collen. Now I just looked like a woman who'd been played.The door chimed. A man in a worn leather jacket slid into the booth opposite me. He didn't smile. His name was Kieran. He came recommended for being discreet and, more importantly, ruthless."You're the one with the problem," he said, not a question. His eyes were the color of dirty dishwater. They didn't look at me like a woman; they looked at me like a job."That problem," I hissed, leaning forward, "is named Claire Hart. I w
Diana Frost’s POVNumbers didn’t lie. They whispered. And in the sealed, silent tomb of Wakefield’s post-merger financial archives, they were screaming.My fingers flew over the keyboard, the blue glow of three monitors painting my glasses in reflected light. Robert Wakefield had hired me for a standard post-acquisition audit. “Due diligence,” he’d called it, his smile not quite reaching the grief-haunted eyes he’d become famous for since his daughter’s accident. Standard, he’d said.There was nothing standard about the trail of digital breadcrumbs leading from Jason Collen’s executive discretionary fund.It was clever. I’d give him that. Not a blatant theft. More like a slow, meticulous bleed. Funds allocated for vendor contracts in Singapore siphoned through a shell corporation in the Caymans. “Consultancy fees” paid to a Luxembourg entity that dissolved three months later. Small amounts, scattered across different projects, easy to miss in quarterly reports. But I was paid to miss
Elizabeth's Pov Danny lunged at me.He wasn't a real fighter. Just a bully who picked on people weaker than him. The way he swung the knife was messy and wild, meant to scare me more than actually hurt me. But in the life I used to live, that kind of mistake could get you killed.My body moved before I could think. It was muscle memory from another life. From all those expensive self-defense classes my father made me take when I was Elizabeth.I spun to the side and his knife missed my ribs by inches. I could hear it cut through the air. My heart was pounding so loud I could hear it in my ears. Claire's fear mixed with my own, but instead of freezing me, it made everything sharper. Danny was off balance because he put too much weight into the swing. I brought the heavy coffee mug down hard on the back of his knife hand.Crack.The sound was wet and awful. He screamed and the knife fell to the floor with a clatter. For a second he just stood there staring at his hand, then at me. At







