Chapter 2: The Stranger in the Mirror
The morning sun filtered through cream-colored curtains, far too gentle for the kind of storm raging inside me. I stared at my reflection again—this new face, these unfamiliar eyes, this body that was supposed to be mine now.
Sophie Alade.
The name sounded innocent. Naïve. Soft. Everything I was not. Everything Amara Cole would never be again.
But that was the beauty of it, wasn't it? In this body, I could start again. Unnoticed. Unexpected. Dangerous.
I turned my hands over slowly, tracing the faint lines of the palms. They were smooth, untouched by years of labor, betrayal, or blood. A blank slate.
The door creaked open.
"Miss Sophie, you're awake!" a middle-aged woman exclaimed, clutching a tray of food. Her accent was thick—Nigerian, northern perhaps. Her kind eyes and worried frown gave away her role before she spoke again. "Ah, thank God. You've been unconscious for two days. The doctor said it was exhaustion."
Exhaustion.
If only she knew.
I managed a faint nod, my voice unfamiliar to my own ears. "How long… have I been here?"
"Two days, ma. After the accident," she replied softly. "Your father was so worried."
Father.
That word hit like a stone. Sophie's father. The man whose empire had swallowed mine. The man whose company had funded Ethan's betrayal.
My pulse quickened. Fate wasn't just giving me a second life—it was handing me my enemies on a silver platter.
"I… need to see him," I murmured.
The woman hesitated. "He's in a meeting, ma. But I'll tell him you're awake." She smiled, setting the tray down. "Eat something, please."
I gave her a polite nod, waiting until she left before I sat on the bed again. The room smelled of wealth—white roses, faint vanilla, expensive linen. Everything screamed luxury. Everything screamed him.
I walked toward the tall mirror again. Sophie was beautiful. Long dark hair, flawless brown skin, soft curves hidden beneath a silk robe. But behind her eyes—my eyes—was Amara. Sharp. Cunning. Hungry.
I could almost hear Ethan's voice echoing in the back of my head: You'll never see it coming.
A bitter smile curved my lips.
"Oh, Ethan," I whispered. "Neither will you."
---
The knock on the door came sharp and commanding this time.
A tall man stepped in, dressed in an immaculate navy suit. His features were sharp, his presence filling the room before he even spoke. He looked about forty—strong, powerful, familiar. The resemblance between him and the young Sophie I'd seen in photos on the wall was clear.
"Sophie," he said, voice deep but soft with concern. "You scared me."
I froze. This was him. Richard Alade. The man who bought my company, stripped my assets, and sold me out to the vultures. The man who had smiled while watching my career burn.
And now… my father.
The irony almost made me laugh.
"I'm fine," I said instead, lowering my gaze. My tone was practiced humility, soft and obedient—the perfect daughter. The opposite of the woman who once ruled boardrooms.
Richard sighed, sitting beside me. "You should take better care of yourself. I told you not to drive after those late meetings."
Meetings? I frowned inwardly. Sophie must have been working for him. Perfect. That meant access. Information. Leverage.
"I'll be careful next time," I murmured.
He nodded, resting a large hand on my shoulder. "Good. Rest for today. We'll talk about the company later."
Company.
So Sophie was already in the business world.
My pulse quickened. Maybe this wasn't just luck—it was strategy written by fate itself.
---
Later that evening, I found myself standing on the balcony overlooking the glittering city skyline. Lagos at night pulsed with noise, light, and opportunity. Beneath it all, power shifted in invisible hands. And now, one of those hands was mine.
The door behind me opened again, and a smooth voice said, "You're up already, princess."
I turned slowly.
He was tall, effortlessly charming, and annoyingly confident. His smile was the kind that could melt defenses—or mask daggers. His suit hung carelessly, like he didn't have to try to look good.
"And you are?" I asked flatly.
He grinned. "Wow. The accident really did knock your memory loose." He walked closer, stopping beside me. "It's me, Jason. Jason Cole."
Cole.
My blood froze.
No. No, it couldn't be.
Jason Cole—Ethan's younger brother.
The universe wasn't giving me a second chance. It was laying a trap—and a stage.
Jason leaned on the railing beside me, his gaze playful. "We haven't seen each other in years. You probably don't remember, but you hated me as a kid."
"I still might," I said evenly, studying his face. His eyes were the same shade of hazel as Ethan's. But unlike Ethan's calculating calm, Jason's were alive. Reckless. Honest.
Dangerous in a different way.
He laughed softly. "Still sharp-tongued, I see. Good. I was afraid the accident turned you soft."
I turned away, hiding the storm inside.
If Jason was here, then Ethan wasn't far behind. And if Ethan was still connected to Richard Alade's world… then my revenge would unfold from inside the circle that destroyed me.
Perfect.
---
That night, I couldn't sleep. I sat at Sophie's desk, rifling through papers, files, and a sleek laptop. The password came easily—a memory not mine but imprinted in this body.
Emails. Transactions. Company records.
And there it was.
Alade Group Holdings – Partnership Proposal: Cole Enterprises.
My chest tightened.
Ethan. His company. His name.
They were negotiating a merger.
I pressed a hand to my chest, forcing myself to breathe.
The screen blurred for a moment as emotion and fury clashed inside me.
But then I smiled—a slow, deadly smile.
He had destroyed Amara Cole to climb higher. Now, he was about to shake hands with Sophie Alade, not knowing she carried the ghost of the woman he killed.
Fate wasn't cruel. It was poetic.
---
As dawn broke, I whispered to my reflection, "They think they built an empire on my ashes."
I leaned closer, my eyes cold steel.
"They don't know the fire's still burning."