Bonus chapter. :)
ARIAThe level of detail is staggering. Course descriptions that match my actual interests. Extracurricular activities that align with my personality. Even a disciplinary note for challenging a professor's outdated methodology, the kind of thing I absolutely would have done."You've thought of everything." It's not a question. It's an acknowledgment of the scope of what I'm seeing."He has." Nathan corrects me gently, and there's something in his voice that makes me look up. Respect, maybe. Or fear."Every detail has been considered, every potential question anticipated. Elizabeth Sinclair can withstand any level of scrutiny because she's real. She has a history, a background, a legitimate source of wealth that goes back decades."The weight of it settles over me like a heavy blanket on a summer day, suffocating and inescapable. Aria Taylor is gone, erased as thoroughly as if she never existed. In her place stands Elizabeth Sinclair, heiress and recluse, emerging from her self-imposed
ARIAI wake to a soft knock at my bedroom door, the sound gentle but persistent enough to pull me out of the deep sleep I’d finally fallen into.Sunlight streams through the heavy curtains, casting warm golden patches across the room.I blink a few times, realizing with a start that I’ve slept far later than usual.“Come in,” I call, my voice still groggy from sleep.Harrison steps in, carrying a silver tray with my usual morning coffee.His movements are as precise as ever, but there’s something about his expression that feels different—more serious than the casual breakfast service would suggest.He sets the tray down on my bedside table with care, then turns to face me.“Good morning, Madam,” his tone’s clipped but polite. “I apologize for the disturb but you have a visitor waiting in the library.”That gets my attention. I sit up straighter, pushing the sleepiness aside. “A visitor?”“Yes, madam. Mr. Nathan Reeds has arrived.”Nathan. The name jolts me fully awake.“How long has h
ARIAThis morning, I sit by the window of my bedroom, gazing out at the gardens below now bathed in the soft light of dawn.The note still lies on the table beside me, untouched since last night with its five words echoing endlessly in my mind.I hadn't slept. Instead, I spent the night right here, staring out at the moonlit gardens and replaying everything that had happened.The note, the memories, the name "D". It all felt unreal, like a dream I couldn't wake from. Yet, the weight of it all is very real.I lean my forehead against the cool glass, closing my eyes as the memory of last night presses in.The woman I once was… the confident, ambitious executive who dared to stand against the Harrington empire feels like a stranger now. In her place is someone else, someone wary and scarred but still standing. Still breathing.Revenge.The word feels right. Tempting, even.The glass fogs slightly with each exhale, creating and erasing tiny clouds that mirror my fluctuating thoughts.My r
ARIAAnother day pass in a blur of physical therapy sessions, selected meals, and monitored walks through the gardens.My body is healing and my strength is returning rapidly, though the doctors still insist on regular rest periods.I've established a routine, finding small ways to assert control within my limited freedom. Each morning, I walk the perimeter of the gardens, measuring the boundaries of my beautiful prison. Each evening, I request specific books from the library, testing Harrison's claims that anything I want will be provided.Today's walk has taken me farther than usual. My legs ache pleasantly from the exertion as I return to my suite and my dark curls damp with sweat despite the cool air.I push open the door, already planning the hot shower I'll take before dinner. However, something on my bed catches my eye. A cream-colored envelope placed on my pillow.I approach slowly, as if it might disappear if I move too quickly.The envelope isn't sealed. Inside is a single s
ARIAI stand frozen in the doorway of my dressing room the next day. I remember the first time I walked in here, how my breath caught in my throat.The sight before me is both magnificent and deeply unsettling. Racks of designer clothing stretch across the room. My fingers reach out to touch a silk blouse in the exact shade of emerald that complements my warm brown skin then move through the collection.Every item is my exact size. Not just standard measurements but tailored to my specific proportions.What disturbs me most isn't the luxury but the intimacy of the selections. A cashmere sweater in the same blue that my mother always said made my dark curls look even more striking. Sleepwear in breathable cotton that won't irritate the sensitive skin along my collarbone—a quirk I've never mentioned to anyone here.I pull open a drawer filled with lingerie. Tasteful, expensive pieces in my exact size. Nothing overtly sexual, but undeniably personal. My cheeks flush as I close the drawer
Nathan pulls out a sealed file folder from his briefcase. It's thick, tied with red tape, and marked "CONFIDENTIAL" in bold letters."My client authorized me to share this with you if HIV concerns came up." He places it on the table between us with his hand lingering on the cover for a moment. "I suggest you review it carefully."I eye the folder warily, both eager and afraid to see its contents. With slightly trembling fingers, I untie the red tape and open the file. Inside is comprehensive documentation of the medical fraud against me… ones far more detailed than I could have imagined possible.Financial transfers to hospital staff, complete with account numbers and dates. Emails between Xavier and the lab technician who falsified my results, discussing exactly how to alter the tests to ensure a positive reading. Sworn statements from junior medical staff who saw the deception but were too scared to report it, fearing for their careers and, in some cases, their safety.I can barely