The evening breeze drifted through the open balcony doors, brushing the silk curtains like a warning. But Clarisse Harrison—wife of Marcus Harrison, self-proclaimed queen of high society—noticed nothing.
She was too busy admiring herself in the mirror.
"Tell Elise I'll be late for the planning meeting tomorrow," she said to her assistant. "The press needs to believe I'm still deeply involved in the Harrison Women's Fund. Even if it's just for appearances."
"Yes, ma'am." The assistant bowed and slipped out.
Clarisse turned back to the mirror, adjusting her pearl necklace. The same one she'd worn at Lumina's wedding. A symbol of wealth. Power. Survival.
How fitting.
She had survived everything—including Lumina's mother.
Clarisse's lips curled into a satisfied smile.
No one had ever proven she was involved in Rose Harrison's death. The poisoning had been ruled a heart failure. Convenient. Quiet.
Just like the explosion that took Lumina's life five years later.
Clarisse never believed in coincidence.
Only in opportunity.
And she'd taken it—twice.
---
Across the city, in the shadows of a high-rise control room, Lumina Harrison sat in front of a wall of monitors. Her real name didn't exist anymore. Not here. Not on paper.
She was Elara Vale now.
But tonight, she would be someone else—someone untraceable.
She slid a flash drive into her computer and watched the surveillance feed from inside the Harrison mansion begin to flicker. Cameras, hacked. Motion sensors, looped.
Mara appeared beside her. "It's done. We installed the program last week during the wine delivery. No one noticed."
"Perfect," Lumina murmured, staring at the live feed.
Clarisse stood alone now, humming to herself. Arrogant. Pleased. Unaware that the mirror she admired herself in wasn't just a mirror anymore.
"It's time," Lumina said.
Mara handed her a small black remote.
Lumina pressed it.
---
Inside the Harrison mansion, Clarisse's vanity light flickered… once… twice… then died.
The room fell into shadow.
She frowned. "Stupid wiring."
Then the TV screen behind her came to life. Static at first, then a grainy video feed.
Her reflection vanished—replaced by a face she hadn't seen in years.
A woman. Eyes like fire. A scar along her collarbone. Alive.
Clarisse's glass dropped to the floor, shattering.
"Impossible," she whispered. "You're dead."
The woman on screen didn't speak.
She simply stared.
Judging. Waiting.
Then the screen went black again.
Clarisse stumbled back, heart racing. Her hand shook as she reached for her phone—but the signal was gone. Blocked.
Panic clawed up her throat.
She ran to the hallway.
"Elise?! Marcus?!"
No answer.
The silence of the house wrapped around her like a shroud.
---
Back in the safehouse, Lumina watched Clarisse on the monitors—wild-eyed, disoriented, afraid for the first time in her life.
"She'll think she imagined it," Mara said.
"For now," Lumina replied, calm. "But this is just the beginning."
---
Five Years Ago – Flashback
The garden behind the Harrison estate used to be Lumina's sanctuary.
Before her mother died. Before Clarisse redecorated it in cold white marble. Before Elise burned her books in a fit of jealousy and called her a "nobody with a rich last name."
She remembered sitting there the night before the wedding—barefoot in the grass, tears in her eyes.
Adrian had been kind, yes. Attractive. Respectful. But distant. Controlled by others. By Seraphina. By his board. By Marcus Harrison's looming threats to cancel the merger.
The marriage was a deal.
And Lumina had no idea the cost.
Her mother's warnings echoed in her mind even now:
> "Clarisse only marries for power. Be careful, Lumina. If anything happens to me—don't trust your father."
She hadn't. But she had been too late.
And the day she got into that car—the day the gas truck came out of nowhere and the explosion engulfed her world—she knew one thing:
> It wasn't an accident.
---
Present
Mara handed Lumina a folder.
"This came in from our contact in Clarisse's charity foundation. It's clean on the surface, but the offshore accounts…?"
Lumina flipped through the documents, her mouth tightening. "She's been laundering donation money."
Mara nodded. "Over three million. We can leak this and ruin her by morning."
"No," Lumina said, eyes narrowed. "Not yet."
Mara raised an eyebrow. "You want to keep watching her squirm?"
"I want her reputation destroyed, yes. But I want her paranoia to do the damage first. Let her unravel herself. Let her start confessing things in fear."
She stood, walking over to the wall covered in photos and red strings.
She pointed at one name: Seraphina Vale.
"She's next. Start tracking her charity work. Travel schedule. Emails."
"And Adrian?" Mara asked.
Lumina hesitated.
"Not yet."
But even as she said it, her eyes flicked toward his photo.
Because something in her chest still twisted when she saw his face.
And she wasn't sure yet if it was love…
or the memory of betrayal.