Morning – Training Room
Raya moved through the drills with mechanical precision — her walk, her posture, her smile. The same pale green rehearsal dress swayed with each step. Elena observed quietly today, arms crossed, brows only twitching once in a while.
When it was over, Elena finally stepped forward, clipboard in hand but no longer scribbling.
"I believe you're ready," she said, her tone lighter than usual. "You've become Seraphina Hart in every way that matters."
Raya swallowed. She didn't smile.
"Take this, you'll need it," Elena said, handing her a small box. Raya collected it, looking at Elena with a questioning eye.
"Is this a parting gift?" she asked with a smile, which Elena returned. They had grown close during those long days of training together.
Raya opened it, only to see a pair of eye contacts inside. She looked back at Elena, who gave her a knowing nod.
"I'll use it when I'm ready," Raya said with a smile. Sometimes, it's better to accept certain situations than to fight them.
If she wanted to become Seraphina, she couldn't keep her gray eyes. She needed to look like Seraphina completely.
"You need to use it before the makeup and hairstylists arrive. You know they're Seraphina's people," Elena said, to which Raya smiled.
Elena looked her over once more, then nodded. "Rest. You'll need it. The gala is tonight. From this point on… everything matters."
Raya nodded and turned, leaving the room quietly, her steps measured — just as they'd practiced.
---
Afternoon – Raya's Room
The sun had dipped just low enough to cast golden stripes across the bed. Raya had just begun to doze off when a sharp knock jolted her upright.
She opened the door to two unfamiliar faces — a tall woman with a cascade of silver-blonde curls and a man with a wheeled makeup kit already halfway inside.
"We're here to get you ready," the woman said with a warm smile. "Mr. Blake requested your usual glam."
Usual. Right.
She stepped aside and let them in, her heartbeat quickening. Elena had warned her that Seraphina had a team — professionals who knew every angle of her face, every curl in her hair. And they were here now, expecting her to be that woman.
Raya said nothing at first, just sat in the chair they guided her to.
The stylist began with her hair, running gentle fingers through it.
"Still using the serum I gave you last time?" she asked conversationally.
Raya forced a relaxed smile. "Of course. Can't go without it."
It worked.
The makeup artist chuckled as he laid out palettes. "Your skin's glowing more than ever, Seraphina. Honestly, we missed you."
She tilted her head, amused. "Then let's not keep each other waiting so long next time."
They laughed.
And Raya kept smiling — the kind of smile Elena had drilled into her. Smooth. Measured. Enough to charm, not invite questions.
As they worked, Raya recalled Elena's training videos. She mirrored Seraphina's way of speaking, her subtle pauses, her playful yet dismissive tone. It wasn't perfect, but it was close.
"Your cheekbones are insane," the makeup artist whispered as he blended. "Adrian Blake's one lucky man."
Raya blushed — on cue. "He doesn't know it yet."
He doesn't know how unlucky I am to meet him, she thought but didn't say it out loud.
They laughed again, charmed by her response. She wondered briefly if Seraphina had ever said those exact words.
When they finished, the stylist stepped back, hands on hips. "And done. You're a vision."
Honestly.
Raya stood slowly, smoothing the emerald gown over her hips — the same one she'd received in the black box the night before.
She walked to the full-length mirror.
And for a moment, the world slowed.
Seraphina Hart stared back at her — hair coiled into a flawless updo, makeup soft but commanding, lips painted like velvet. The gown hugged her like it had been sewn onto her body. The clutch in her hand gleamed under the chandelier light.
No trace of Raya Calder.
Not in the eyes — because now they weren't gray but almond. Not in the posture. Not in the silence.
She swallowed hard, her throat dry.
"Thank you," she said to the team, still watching her reflection.
She barely recognized the voice. It was hers, but not hers.
They gathered their tools and left with warm smiles and quick goodbyes.
And when the door closed behind them, Raya took one step closer to the mirror.
She smiled. Just like Seraphina would — looking at the woman who was no longer Raya Calder but Seraphina Hart.
But she knew that behind her eyes was something no one would ever see — and maybe that didn't really matter.
Still, her heart whispered:
Don't fail.
For Anna. For your father. For yourself.
---
Evening – Adrian's Mansion
The final rays of the sun dipped low over the Blake estate, casting golden streaks across the hallways.
Upstairs, the heavy door to Raya's room creaked open.
She stepped out slowly, the soft rustle of fabric trailing behind her like a whisper. The gown — deep emerald green, sleek, and form-fitting — hugged her silhouette with elegant precision. Every curve was highlighted, every step deliberate. A matching clutch was tucked beneath her arm, and her heels clicked softly on the marble as she moved.
Her hair was swept into a flawless updo, a few artful strands curled around her cheekbones. The makeup was subtle, ethereal — enhancing her beauty without masking it.
Adrian stood at the end of the hallway, half-turned toward the grand staircase. He was dressed in a sharp black tuxedo, crisp and classic, with a single emerald green pocket square peeking out — the only color on him, perfectly matching her dress.
He turned at the sound of her heels.
And paused.
For a split second, something flickered in his eyes — surprise, maybe. Or something deeper. It was gone almost immediately, buried under cool detachment.
He blinked once, slow. His jaw tensed briefly.
When she'd said she looked more beautiful than Seraphina, she wasn't joking. Because the woman before him was truly beautiful — or maybe he just hadn't noticed Seraphina that way before.
Although both Raya and Seraphina looked alike, Raya seemed to have curves in all the right places, and her waist was slightly smaller than Seraphina's.
But it was still good to go. Just a little different.
Right now, Raya looked almost identical to Seraphina — especially with the eye contacts on.
Raya looked at him, her chin lifting slightly under his gaze.
"I'm ready, Mr. Blake. Shall we proceed?" she said.
His brows lifted slightly. "The moment we step out of this house," he said evenly, "it's Adrian. Call me Adrian, just like Seraphina does." He emphasized the name.
She nodded once, tone smooth. "Okay, Mr. Adrian."
He'd said out of the house, not inside, and she was one to follow rules.
He let his eyes roam over her again — not lingering, not indulgent. Just measured. Calculating.
"Don't disappoint me, Seraphina," he said finally.
"As much as this Seraphina wants to disappoint you, she wouldn't dare," Raya replied, a trace of sarcasm weaving through her voice.
Just subtle — telling him she was Raya, not Seraphina.
Adrian didn't react. Not fully.
But there was a pause, and then a cool warning.
"Leave the sarcasm in this house before we walk out that door."
His voice wasn't harsh. It didn't need to be. The quiet weight behind it was more than enough.
Raya met his gaze and gave a small, practiced smile — not Seraphina's smirk, not her old self's nervous grin. Something new. Controlled. Poised.
"I thought you liked people being sarcastic, but since you don't, I'll try to keep it here," she murmured, but loud enough for him to hear it.
Try?
It seemed the girl just wanted to annoy him — and the most annoying part was that it worked. Maybe she was just naturally irritating, and it was getting to him.
He nodded once at her. He didn't want to waste time on her.
Then, without another word, he turned and led the way.
Like a gentleman?
She followed.
Down the sweeping staircase.
Past the towering portraits of the Blake ancestors lining the corridor.
Toward the waiting car. Toward the waiting world.
Together, they stepped through the tall doors — the perfect couple. Or so it would seem.
The Blake heir and Seraphina Hart.
But beneath the surface, only Raya knew the truth.
She was walking into the gala not just in Seraphina's shoes —
but with her fate stitched into every thread of that emerald gown.
And the whole world would be watching her performance.