~ Jessica POV ~The bass thrummed through my chest as I adjusted the emerald silk dress that clung to my surgically perfected curves. The Platinum Lounge—New Jersey's most exclusive club where the wealthy came to pretend they were normal people for a few hours. Where men like Marcus Chen came to drown their loneliness in expensive whiskey.I'd been watching him for three weeks. Michael's loyal right-hand man, divorced two years ago, kids he saw on weekends. Vulnerable. Perfect.The bartender slid my martini across the polished marble. "Anything else, Miss Sterling?"Victoria Sterling. The name rolled off my tongue so easily now. Jessica Campbell was buried deeper than Miller's rotting corpse."Just waiting for a friend." I let my fingers trace the rim of the glass, a move that drew Marcus's attention from across the bar. His eyes lingered on my hands—soft, manicured, nothing like the callused ones that had held the knife that ended Miller's pathetic life.He approached within five min
~ ARIA POV ~The coffee mug trembled in my hands as I stared at the headline on Michael's tablet. The black letters seemed to blur and sharpen, blur and sharpen, like my mind couldn't quite process what they meant.*"Jessica Campbell Released Early on Technicality"*"Aria." Michael's voice cut through the white noise in my head. "Look at me."I couldn't. The words kept swimming on the screen. Ten years. She was supposed to serve twenty, but some lawyer found a loophole, some procedural error that—"Aria." Firmer this time. His hand covered mine, warm and steady. "Breathe."I sucked in air like I'd been underwater. The kitchen came back into focus—the marble countertops Austin had fingerprinted yesterday, Alex's calculus homework still scattered by the coffee maker, the morning light streaming through windows that suddenly felt too exposed."When?" The word scraped out of my throat."Few weeks ago." Michael's jaw was tight, that muscle jumping the way it did when he was holding back fu
~ Jessica POV ~"So you're telling me this family destroyed your sister's life?" Dr. Marcus Webb leaned forward in his leather chair, his voice carrying that practiced sympathy therapists perfected. "And now you want to help expose their corruption?"I dabbed at my eyes with a tissue, letting Victoria Sterling's tragic backstory work its magic. Three weeks into my new identity, and I'd already made contact with a disgruntled former Walton-Campbell employee who'd been "unfairly terminated" last year."My sister Sarah trusted them completely," I whispered, my voice breaking at just the right moment. "She invested her life savings in their startup program. When it failed, they blamed her for not meeting impossible targets. She... she took her own life rather than face bankruptcy."Webb's jaw tightened. Perfect. The financial advisor had his own grudge against Michael Walton—something about a consulting contract that had gone sideways. Men like him always thought they were smarter than th
The mirror in the seedy motel bathroom reflected a stranger's face back at me. Good. That was exactly what I needed.My fingers traced the surgical tape still covering my nose. Three weeks since the procedure, and the swelling had finally gone down enough to see the surgeon's handiwork. The woman staring back at me bore no resemblance to Jessica Campbell—the broken, desperate creature who'd walked into that prison ten years ago.This woman had cheekbones that could cut glass. A nose that belonged on magazine covers. Lips that had been plumped to perfection. Even my eye color had changed—contacts transforming brown to striking green. The final touch would come when the bruising faded completely, but already I could see she was beautiful. Dangerously so.*Victoria Sterling.* I'd practiced saying the name until it felt natural rolling off my tongue. Until I could sign it without hesitation. Until I could become her completely.The identity had cost me nearly two hundred thousand of Mille
Pathetic. Even dying, he was weak.The smell hits me then. Copper and something else. Something final. I press my palm against my mouth, fighting the urge to vomit. Not here. Not now. I have work to do.Focus, Jessica. Think.I grab a towel from the bathroom and wipe the letter opener clean. My fingerprints. DNA. Evidence. The police shows I watched in prison taught me enough to know I can't be sloppy.Miller's phone buzzes on the dresser. I snatch it, scrolling through his contacts. Mostly burner numbers and fake names. Smart boy, even if he was stupid enough to betray me. The screen shows seventeen missed calls from someone labeled "Boss."Whoever's been paying Miller's bills these past ten years.I power it off and slip it into my pocket. Information is currency now, and I need every advantage I can get.The shower runs cold, but I scrub until my skin burns. Miller's blood swirls pink down the drain. When I'm done, I stand naked in front of the cracked mirror, studying the woman st
"Don't." I raise the letter opener, and he flinches back against the door. "Don't make this worse by lying to my face.""Okay! Okay, yes, I was planning to... to maybe use some of it to get money if I needed to. But I kept detailed files! Names, addresses, schedules, financial records—everything you'd need to—""To what? Destroy them properly this time?"He nods frantically. "The files are in the safe. Everything's there. Take them. Take it all. Just... please, Jess. Please don't—""Don't what?" I lean closer, close enough to smell the fear-sweat on his skin. "Don't give you exactly what you gave me?"The letter opener catches the light from the bedside lamp. Such a small thing to hold so much power."I kept your picture," Miller whispers. "On the nightstand. I looked at it every night for ten years. That has to count for something."I glance at the crumpled photo. Young faces full of arrogance and false promises. The girl in that picture believed in forever. Believed in him."It coun