CHAPTER 4

ZARIA POV

The cold air of the basement changing room felt like a slap in the face.

I sat on a rusty metal bench, staring at the scuffed toes of my sneakers. Twenty-four hours. That was all the time Soren Ellsworth had given me before he unleashed his security team to tear my fake identity to shreds. If they dug too deep, they wouldn't just find a forged ID card; they would find a trail leading straight to a girl who was supposed to be at the bottom of the ocean. And if Tristan found out I was breathing, he wouldn't hesitate to finish the job.

You can't leave, I told myself, gripping the edge of the bench until my knuckles turned white. If you walk away now, you lose everything forever. This is your only shot.

I looked up at the tiny, grime-covered mirror on the locker door. The scarred, plain-looking girl stared back. Soren was smart—too smart. He hadn't built a multi-billion-dollar legal empire by letting things slide. He saw me as an anomaly, a variable he couldn't control in his pristine, calculated world.

I spent the next day trapped in a state of hyper-awareness, waiting for the axe to fall. Every time my phone buzzed with a generic text, my heart leaped into my throat. But by the time my shift rolled around at midnight, nobody had stopped me at the employee entrance. My keycard still beeped green.

He was giving me the full twenty-four hours. A twisted courtesy from the city's most ruthless man.

"Gia, I need you on the fortieth floor again," the supervisor barked as I walked past his office. He didn't look up from his phone. "The senior partners had a late-night brief. The conference room is a total disaster. Get it done before five."

My stomach did a violent flip. The fortieth floor. Soren’s territory.

"Understood," I rasped, keeping my head low as I grabbed my cleaning cart.

The elevator ride up was agonizingly slow. When the doors finally slid open on the executive floor, the hallway was completely dark, save for the ambient city lights filtering through the massive glass windows. It was quiet. Too quiet.

I pushed my cart toward the main conference room, forcing myself to focus on the task. The room was indeed a mess—half-empty coffee cups, scattered legal pads, and crumpled printouts littered the long glass table. I worked quickly, my mind racing as fast as my hands. I threw away the trash, wiped down the surfaces, and organized the chairs.

As I reached for a stack of abandoned documents near the shredder, a specific logo caught my eye. It was a distinctive gold crest—the Ellison Corporation emblem.

I froze, my hand hovering over the paper. It was a printed copy of the upcoming board meeting agenda, scheduled for the end of the week. Right at the top of the list was the permanent appointment of Tristan Vance as the official, undisputed CEO, effectively absorbing all of my father's private shares due to my "unfortunate passing."

The sight of his name next to my father's title made a sickening wave of anger boil up in my throat. They were finalizing it. In just three days, the transition would be complete, and tracing the stolen funds would become legally impossible.

I'm out of time, I realized, the paper trembling in my gloved hand. I can't wait for Soren to find me out. I have to force his hand tonight.

I folded the paper and shoved it deep into my uniform pocket. I needed to see him. I needed to lay my cards on the table, even if it meant risking everything.

I left the conference room and walked down the dimly lit hallway toward his private office. The frosted glass door was closed, but a thin sliver of golden light escaped from underneath. He was still here.

I stood outside the door for a full minute, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. My hand hovered over the silver handle. This was the point of no return. If I walked in there and failed to convince him, my life as Gia was over, and my life as Zaria would be forfeit.

I took a deep, stabilizing breath, adjusting the heavy frames of my glasses and ensuring my wig was secure.

Before I could even knock, the heavy mahogany door swung open.

Soren stood there, fully dressed in a sharp, charcoal-gray suit, looking as immaculate as he had the night before. His tie was perfectly straight, and his eyes were cold, sharp, and entirely unreadable as they locked onto me.

"Your twenty-four hours aren't up for another thirty minutes, Gia," he said, his smooth voice cutting through the silence of the empty floor. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. "Are you here to hand in your resignation, or did you think I wouldn't notice you hovering outside my door for the last sixty seconds?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing myself to look him directly in the eye despite the intimidating aura radiating off him.

"I'm not here to resign, Mr. Ellsworth," I said, my voice steady, completely abandoning the timid, raspy tone I had been using for weeks. I stepped closer, dropping the submissive posture. "I'm here to offer you a case you can't afford to turn down."

Soren’s brow twitched slightly, a flash of genuine surprise crossing his features before his face hardened into a mask of pure amusement. He let out a low, humorless chuckle.

"A janitress pitching a case," he murmured, straightening up and stepping back into his office, leaving the door open. "You certainly have nerve. Walk into my office and close the door."

I didn't hesitate. I stepped inside the luxurious room, and the heavy door clicked shut behind me, sealing us in.