Semua Bab HEIRESS REBORN: Bab 141 - Bab 150

KAIA (ALINA) POV The second I step into the ballroom, the air changes. It is subtle, like the way a room stills before a storm hits.The Cross Foundation gala is all polished marble, chandeliers dripping with light, and champagne flutes clinking against the hum of money talking to money. But under it, there is a quiet edge, the kind only people like me notice. People watching. Calculating. Waiting. Ever since that blog piece, people have started looking at me strange.I feel eyes on me before I even take two steps past the door.I don’t rush. My heels click slow, deliberate, the sound cutting through the music. A couple in glittering black turns their heads. A man with a politician’s smile pauses mid-sentence. I don’t look at them. I don’t look at anyone.Because I know exactly where he is.Nathaniel.He’s leaning against the far side of the room, half in shadow, drink in hand, posture casual enough to fool anyone who doesn’t know him. But his gaze is locked. Not just on me, through

SASHA'S POV The file’s been sitting on my coffee table for three hours, untouched except for the one time I nearly opened it and then slammed it shut again. My wine glass is sweating against my palm, my bare feet freezing against the hardwood, and I still can’t bring myself to read it properly.It’s not that I’m scared. I’m not the type. But once I open it, I can’t un-know what’s inside.I finally force myself to sit. I pull the envelope toward me, peel back the flap, and spread the contents across the table. The enhanced facial analysis is printed on cheap white paper, the kind you’d expect from a rushed private lab job. The top of the page says “Subject A” and “Subject B” — one is Alina’s old driver’s license photo, the other is a high-res still of Kaia from the gala last month.The percentage is circled in red ink.Eighty-seven.Not a clean match. Not a denial either.The report says “inconclusive due to changes in facial structure, weight distribution, and possible surgical alter

I slam the door shut behind me and twist the lock, once, twice, three times, like muscle memory before I lean against it, chest heaving like I ran a marathon, even though I just drove here in silence. My palms are sweating, but my head is colder than ice. The gala was supposed to be just another move on the board, another calculated step in this long game, but tonight proved something: the board isn’t mine alone anymore. Too many hands are reaching for the piecesMy safehouse feels smaller tonight, like the walls know something I don’t. My heart is still racing from the gala, the echo of all those eyes, all those whispers, pressing in on me. The air smells like static, like the faint burnt edge of adrenaline that hasn’t burned out yetI shove my heels off, kick them across the room, and yank the pins out of my hair. My reflection in the darkened glass looks like a stranger—Kaia’s mask still painted on, Alina’s shadows flickering underneath.The screens along the wall flicker awake as

KAIA (ALINA) POV I shove the metal door open and step into Theo’s underground lab. The air is cold, faintly metallic, and humming with machines. I always feel like I’ve walked into someone else’s brain when I come here—wires dangling, monitors stacked, cables crawling across the floor like veins. Theo’s bent over one of the consoles, black hoodie pulled up, typing with that twitchy focus he gets when he’s building something or touching something he shouldn’t. He doesn’t look up right away, but when he finally does, his eyes flicker from me to Damien standing just behind me. That one eyebrow goes up, sharp and amused. “So now you bring your surgeon to play spy games?” I don’t answer. I just cross my arms and stare him down. Damien closes the door behind us, calm, collected, like he’s been here a hundred times. He hasn’t. He’s a surgeon, not a ghost in the machine, but the way he stands there, like he belongs in a place like this, makes something coil in my chest. Black ops, K

SASHA'S POV I can’t stop my hands from shaking. No matter how tight I grip the edge of the table, no matter how many times I curl my fingers into my palm, the tremor won’t go away. My nails dig into my skin until it stings. The laptop screen glows in front of me, but the words blur and twist because my pulse is too loud in my ears.Kieran sits across from me, leaning back like this is nothing more than a game. One arm draped lazily over the chair, the other spinning a silver pen between his fingers. He doesn’t look nervous. He doesn’t look curious. He just looks… entertained.Like a spider who has caught em a fly“You are pale,” he says finally, his voice low, soft, with that edge of mockery that makes me want to claw his face. “What’s wrong, Sasha? 8 thought you wanted the truth.”“I do,” I whisper, even though my throat feels tight. I lick my lips, try to steady myself. “I just—”He cuts me off with a tilt of his head, his dark eyes glittering. “Or maybe you don’t. Maybe you are re