The Study – That Morning
The heavy door of the study clicked shut as the last of Adrian's men filed in. The room sank into a tense, loaded silence.
Adrian stood by the tall window, sleeves rolled up, one hand resting against the edge of the desk. Morning light spilled across the polished floor, carving sharp angles into his already unforgiving expression.
Stephen broke the silence first.
"The location was abandoned when we got there. Fresh signs — someone had been living there until just a few hours before. Clothes, toiletries, food wrappers… female."
He paused. "It was her. I'm sure of it."
Adrian didn't move.
One of the men, Stone, shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe someone tipped her off—"
Adrian's eyes turned slowly, sharp and cutting.
Silence.
Dante cleared his throat, pressing on. "We questioned the nearby tenants. No one claimed to know anything, but an older woman swore she saw a girl matching Seraphina's description leaving with a bag. That was this morning. She vanished into the crowd."
Jace, the youngest, stepped forward slightly. "We combed the whole district. No trace. She had help, sir. Someone's covering her tracks."
Adrian moved away from the window with deliberate calm. His footsteps echoed as he circled behind the desk and sat, fingers steepling together. His stillness was heavier than shouting.
They waited.
Finally, his voice came, quiet but sharp enough to cut. "How long have you known about this safe house?"
The weight of the question filled the air.
Jace hesitated. "Two days. We didn't want to move until we confirmed it."
Adrian's gaze flicked up — calm, but searing. "And in two days, you let her slip through your fingers."
Jace's jaw tightened. "We thought—"
"Don't think," Adrian cut him off, voice low but deadly. "Next time, act faster. Or don't come back."
The warning lingered in the air like smoke.
Stephen stepped forward quickly, voice measured. "We're tracing her contacts. We'll find the leak. Whoever's helping her… they're good. But not untouchable."
Adrian leaned back, gaze fixed on nothing. A long, cold beat passed before he rose again.
"Split into two teams. Triple-check all travel logs from the district. I want eyes everywhere. No more delays."
The men nodded, turning to leave in clipped silence.
At the door, Adrian's voice halted them.
"And Stephen," he added, eyes cold.
Stephen turned back. "Sir?"
"Double the surveillance around the Hart estate. If she tries to reach them…" He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
Stephen gave a grim nod. "Understood."
The door shut behind them one by one, leaving Adrian alone with the fading morning light.
---
Training Room – Afternoon
Raya stood at the center of the training room, posture tall, arms loose at her sides. The pale green dress she wore swayed gently as she moved — the kind of dress Seraphina Hart would wear to a brunch or discreet charity visit. Elegant. Effortless. Rich.
Elena circled her like a hawk, clipboard in hand, eyes sharp.
"Again," Elena instructed. "Walk. Turn. Smile."
Raya obeyed.
Her steps were lighter now, steady. She moved as though polished floors had always been beneath her feet, as though every gaze in the room belonged to her. Her turn was clean. Her smile — subtle, soft — didn't reach her eyes, but Seraphina's never did.
Elena jotted a note, her voice even. "Chin slightly higher. Good. Again."
They moved through voice drills next — answers to questions, polite exchanges with imaginary socialites, press interviews. Raya's tone was steady, composed, warm in just the right measure. She could now shift from bored heiress to mildly engaged businesswoman without faltering.
When a trace of her old accent slipped into the word "schedule," Elena's brow arched.
Raya caught it immediately. She closed her eyes, breathed, and corrected herself.
"Schedule." Crisper. Softer.
"Better," Elena murmured.
They drilled for another hour. The work was mechanical, exhausting — yet strangely empowering. Raya wasn't just mimicking Seraphina Hart anymore.
She was becoming her.
At least on the surface.
Inside, Raya still felt like herself — a shadow watching through someone else's eyes.
Her palms were damp when they finally paused. Her jaw throbbed faintly from holding smiles too long.
Elena glanced at the clock. "We'll stop here for now. Etiquette drills in an hour."
Raya nodded politely. "Understood."
As she turned toward the mirror to fix her hair, the door creaked open.
She expected Elena to snap at whoever interrupted.
But then she saw him.
Grigor.
He stood in the doorway, unreadable as always.
"Mr. Blake wants to see you," he said.
Raya nodded.
Elena raised her brows faintly but said nothing. Instead, she handed Raya a silk scarf.
"For your neck. You still forget the small details."
Elena wasn't as harsh as before — not softer exactly, but no longer merciless.
Raya tied the scarf, her fingers trembling slightly. She smoothed her dress and followed Grigor, pulse thudding in her chest.
She hadn't seen Adrian since he passed her that morning with Stephen.
And from the look in Grigor's eyes, this wasn't a routine check-in.
This was Seraphina's summons.
---
Adrian's Study
The corridor leading to Adrian's study felt colder than usual. Each step echoed against the stone, Grigor silent ahead of her. Raya adjusted the scarf once more, though it was already perfect.
At the tall door, Grigor knocked once, then pushed it open.
Adrian stood near the window, back turned, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, one hand in his pocket. On the desk behind him sat a pale nude handbag.
Grigor gestured Raya forward, then shut the door quietly behind her.
She lingered near the entrance, uncertain.
"Mr. Blake," she greeted, her voice even.
Adrian turned, his eyes sweeping over her in a single, assessing glance. His tone was unreadable when he asked, "How's your training?"
Raya drew a breath. "Fine. Elena says I'm improving."
"Good."
He picked up the handbag from the desk, holding it like a transaction, not a gift. Without ceremony, he extended it toward her.
Raya hesitated before taking it, confusion shadowing her brows. "Why are you giving me this?"
"Because you'll need it," Adrian said simply, gesturing for her to use it.
She glanced down at the bag. Minimalist. Sleek. Expensive. Undeniably Seraphina's.
It was lighter than expected. Inside, she found a slim wallet, a few designer cosmetics, and a phone in a gold case.
"The phone is hers?" she asked quietly.
Adrian gave a curt nod. "Yes."
"But… I won't know the password."
"You won't need it."
His look made her realize it had already been prepared.
Tentatively, she raised the phone. Her reflection blinked back at her in the dark screen.
She pressed the side button.
The phone scanned her face—
And lit up instantly.
Unlocked.
No password.
Just her.
Raya's breath hitched.
Of course. Of course it opened.
A thousand feelings surged, but her face remained composed. No flinch. No crack.
The wallpaper was a white-sand beach — serene, empty — with the initials "SH" in gold lettering at the corner.
She clicked it off and slid it back into the bag.
"Anything else?" she asked, her voice dry.
Adrian's tone was cool. "You'll need her calendar, apps, messages. Study her habits. Social media, photos, group chats. If someone from her circle reaches out, you respond without hesitation."
She gave him a sharp look. "You really don't waste time, do you?"
"I don't have any to waste," he replied, gaze like steel. "And neither do you."
He turned away, conversation dismissed.
Raya's grip on the bag tightened. Her voice dropped, quiet, tentative. "Can I ask something?"
He didn't answer, but he didn't stop her.
"My father. Is he… alright?"
Silence stretched, then Adrian's reply came, cold and measured.
"I make sure he's still breathing."
Her throat tightened.
"Can I see him?" she whispered. "Even for a few minutes—"
"No."
Her voice broke sharper. "Why?"
This was her father. Why wouldn't he let her see him? What kind of man caged a daughter from her own blood?
Adrian's reply was slow, deliberate. "Because I said so."
The words rang like a door slamming shut.
Raya bit her tongue. Arguing with him was useless. Better silence than wasted breath.
The air between them grew heavy, suffocating.
But at least it was something. A cold promise her father was still alive. Enough to sleep one more night without despair.
She nodded once and turned to leave.
"Seraphina," Adrian's voice called behind her.
She froze, grip tightening on the bag.
"Yes?" she answered, the name bitter on her tongue.
He studied her for a long moment, then gave a single nod. "Get familiar with that phone."
She inclined her head, then walked away.
---
Outside the Corridor
She glanced down at the handbag — Seraphina's life, now hers to carry.
Her reflection flickered on the phone screen as it locked again.
Same face. Different name.
Different fate.
Her spine stayed straight, her steps steady. But inside, her heart pounded.
Because now, she wasn't just wearing Seraphina's smile.
She was carrying her life.
And walking deeper into her shadow.