Elisa barely slept.
Every time she closed her eyes the helplessness of her new reality pressed down on her chest until she felt like she might suffocate. She was now in a body that wouldn't obey her and trapped in a body that wasn't hers.
As the morning light seeped through the curtains and she adjusted her eyes to the brightness of the room. A soft knock came and the nurse walked in, a smile on her lips and cheerful voice.
" Good morning Mrs Walker. Time to get up."
Yeah Mrs Walker, that wasn't her name, that was Ashley's, she screamed inside her head but said nothing, letting the nurse draw back the covers and help her sit upright. Humiliation burned her throat as she let the woman lift her into the waiting wheelchair. She hated how heavy her body felt. With her broken arm, she couldn't do things that were considered simple and normal to her, like packing her hair or fastening the buttons of her clothes. Worse still, she couldn't even put on a dress by herself. Things that had once taken seconds now stretched into endless, infuriating minutes.
By the time she was wheeled toward the bathroom, her temper snapped.
"Is there anything I can do myself," she muttered, "or must I be spoon-fed too?"
The nurse gave her a sympathetic smile, the kind that made Elisa feel even smaller.
"It'll get better with therapy, ma'am. You'll see."
There were a lot of things she had to consider. She had barely made any progress towards her plan for revenge. She literally had nothing, without Ashley's memories, she didn't even have access to the woman's bank accounts, her passwords, her assets. She had nothing, no money, no independence.
....
The living room had been cleared to make space for her therapy sessions. Mats were spread across the floor, with the therapist sitting on the opposite end, trying to help her relax, kick depressing thoughts and maintain positivity.
After a while they were done.
Breakfast was served shortly after, laid neatly on the table in front of her. She picked at the food without much appetite until she noticed the empty chair across from her.
" Mr Walker left early for work," the nurse explained.
She paused in her movement. A wave of irritation washed over her at once. He was gone which meant she'd have to wait until evening before she could try again for the number. Another day wasted, another day trapped in patience she didn't have. But she also felt a strange sense of calmness, he was a presence that was very hard to ignore, now that he was gone the house felt...lighter.
She set her fork down, eyes narrowing.
Fine. I'll wait, but tonight… I'll make another move.
The hours crawled by after breakfast. Silence filled the house, broken only by the occasional footsteps of staff moving about. Eliza wheeled herself into the study, eyes flicking over the neat desk, the shelves lined with books she had no interest in. What she wanted wasn't here. She had toured round the house to see what it looked like and she ended here.
She told the nurse to leave her, stating that she could come in later and she wanted to be alone for now.
She stared at the laptop resting in the corner. For a long moment she hesitated, then wheeled closer and opened it. Fingers hovered awkwardly over the keyboard before she began typing.
Her manager's name.
Search results flooded the screen, articles praising his genius, gossip blogs speculating about his future, even old photos of them together at award shows. Her throat tightened at the sight. But when she searched for his contact, there was nothing. Only the agency's number, which wasn't what she needed.
She clicked another link, and another. Still nothing.
Frustration coiled in her gut until she thought she might scream. Just as she was about to slam the laptop shut, a headline caught her eye.
Manager Announces Press Conference—Steps Away From Talent Management Temporarily."
Her blood ran cold. She clicked it open.
There he was on screen her manager, seated at a podium, a line of microphones before him. The image was grainy, but his words were quoted clearly beneath.
"I will not be taking on new talents.
After years in this industry, I've
decided it's time to take a break.
Elisa's hand shook on the trackpad. Her vision blurred before she even realized what was happening. Hot tears slid down her cheeks.
She couldn't reach him and worse, he was taking a break. More articles stated that it was because of his 'huge loss'.
She felt frustration and guilt build up inside of her at the same time. She was already so frustrated and this just made it worse. Here she was crying in someone else's study, in someone else's body, trapped in a life she never asked for.
And for the first time since waking in Ashley's body, Eliza allowed herself to cry not just for herself, but for whom she had taken down with her. Someone who genuinely cared for her.
….
Elisa sat in the living room, the soft glow of the tablet illuminating her face . A foreign language app chirped cheerfully as a synthetic voice repeated simple Spanish phrases.
"¿Dónde está la estación?"
"Muy bien, otra vez."
She mimicked the words absently, her accent flawless. She had been fluent for years but tonight she just did the exercises out of sheer boredom.
The front door opened and Elisa looked up and Ethan came into view. Finally he was back.
" Spanish?" He asked, one brow lifting.
She forced a faint smile. " Something to pass the time."
He gave a non-committal 'hmm', loosening his tie as he crossed to the dining room. A maid appeared almost immediately, setting dishes onto the table. Elisa gave him a three minute headstart before wheeling towards him.
Ethan was typing away furiously, while reaching for his food every once in a while. He was a workaholic no doubt. He didn't look up when she approached—he rarely did.
"I need to borrow your phone," she said, steady but casual, as though it were the most natural request in the world.
That got his attention. His fingers paused above the keyboard. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the sleek black phone. For a moment, it dangled loosely in his hand, almost within her reach.
Then he stopped. His eyes narrowed, calculating. "Why?"
Her stomach flipped, but she forced a smile. "Because I don't have one." She lifted her good hand helplessly, gesturing toward herself, the sling, the chair. "It's hard to keep up with the world when you don't even have a way to call for help."
He studied her, silent. His gaze was so intense she had to look away, pretending to fix her hair.
When he finally moved, it wasn't to give her the phone. Instead, he slid open a drawer and pulled out a small black card.
"Here." He extended it toward her.
She blinked. "What's this?"
"A black card. Get a phone" and almost immediately he resumed typing. It was a sign that that conversation was over.
Her heart sank. She'd been so close. But she schooled her face into gratitude, taking the card with her free hand. "Thank you," she whispered, as though it was a gift.
She has just been outmaneuvered.
The next day, as usual Ethan left the house early but Elisa didn't bother herself as she had come up with a new plan.