Aria spent the next twenty-four hours in a state of controlled anxiety, obsessively checking the burner phone for emails, jumping every ti it vibrated with spam ssages.
She distracted herself by refining Sarah Mitchell’s backstory, morizing every detail until she could recite the fictional woman’s life history without hesitation. Where she went to high school (Lincoln High in Portland). Her favorite subject (English literature). The nas of her previous employers’ children (the Morrisons had three: Emma, Jas, and little Sophie; the Chens had two: Michael and Grace).
Details mattered. One small inconsistency could unravel everything.
She also visited her mother guilt finally overriding her obsession with the mission.
i looked slightly better than she had two days ago, which Aria knew was probably just a temporary reprieve. Wasting Syndro progressed in waves periods of relative stability followed by rapid decline.
"You look tired," i observed as Aria settled into the chair beside her bed.
"I’m fine."
"You’re a terrible liar. You always have been." Her mother’s smile was gentle. "What’s going on, baby girl? And don’t tell ’nothing.’ I know that look."
Aria wanted to tell her. Wanted to explain her plan, to share the hope that maybe just maybe there was a way to save her.
But she couldn’t. Not yet. Not until she had the plant in hand and knew it would work.
"Just job hunting," she said instead, which was technically true. "Trying to find sothing with better pay."
"Mmm." i didn’t look convinced, but she let it drop. "You know what I realized yesterday? I never told you about how your father proposed."
The change of subject was so abrupt that Aria blinked. "What?"
"Your father. The proposal." i’s eyes went distant with mory. "Everyone thought he’d do sothing elaborate he was always so dramatic about everything. But instead, he just asked one morning over breakfast. We were eating terrible diner food at 3 AM because we’d both pulled all-nighters studying, and he just looked at and said, ’I want to have terrible diner food with you for the rest of my life. Will you marry ?’"
Despite everything, Aria smiled. "That’s actually really sweet."
"It was perfect. Because it wasn’t about grand gestures or expensive rings. It was about everyday monts. The boring, mundane, beautiful everyday monts." i’s hand found Aria’s. "That’s what love is, you know. Not the dramatic declarations. Just... wanting to share the ordinary monts with soone."
Aria’s chest tightened. She didn’t know why her mother was telling her this now. Didn’t know what had prompted this trip down mory lane.
"Why are you telling this?"
"Because I see how you live, Aria. Always working, always pushing, always wearing different masks for different people. And I worry that you’ll spend so much ti being other people that you’ll forget how to just... be yourself. How to let soone see the real you."
The real is a liar and a thief, Aria thought but didn’t say.
"I’m fine, Mama. I promise."
"You’re alone. That’s not the sa as fine." i squeezed her hand. "Promise sothing. Promise that when you et soone who makes you want to share those ordinary monts, soone who makes you want to stop wearing masks you’ll let them in. Even if it’s scary. Especially if it’s scary."
Aria forced a smile. "I promise."
Another lie. She was so good at those now.
They talked for another hour about nothing important, about hospital food, the annoying nurse who kept forgetting to bring extra blankets, a funny story about the elderly man in the room next door who kept trying to escape to "make it to bingo night."
Normal things. Ordinary monts.
The kind of monts Aria was terrified of losing forever.
When she finally left the hospital, her phone buzzed with an email notification.
Her heart stopped.
The sender:
Subject: Interview Request - Housekeeper Position
Aria’s hands were shaking as she opened it:
"Dear Ms. Mitchell,
Thank you for your application for the Housekeeper position at Blackwood Estate. Your qualifications and experience are impressive, and we would like to invite you for an in-person interview.
Please arrive at the main gate tomorrow at 2:00 PM. Inform security that you have an appointnt with Mrs. Elizabeth Chen, Head of Household Managent.
Please bring the following items:
- Valid identification
- Original copies of your reference letters
- Social Security card
- Proof of current address
We look forward to eting you.
Sincerely,
Elizabeth Chen
Head of Household Managent
Blackwood Estate
Tomorrow. The interview was tomorrow.
One day to prepare. One day to make sure every aspect of Sarah Mitchell’s identity was perfect. One day before she walked into the lion’s den.
Aria read the email three more tis, her mind already racing through contingencies and preparations.
Then she started laughing a slightly hysterical sound that echoed in her car.
She’d done it. She’d actually gotten an interview at one of the most exclusive private estates in the country.
Now all she had to do was convince them to hire her. Convince them that Sarah Mitchell was exactly who she claid to be.
And then, once inside those walls, find the Vitalis Radix and steal it without getting caught.
Simple.
What could possibly go wrong? she thought, and laughed again.
Everything. Everything could go wrong.
But she was committed now. There was no turning back.
Tomorrow, she will beco Sarah Mitchell.
Tomorrow, she will et the formidable Mrs. Chen.
And if everything went according to plan, she’d never actually et Damien Blackwood at all. She’d be just another invisible employee, beneath his notice, forgotten the mont she left the room.
That was the plan.
The universe, as it turned out, had very different ideas.
That evening, Aria stood in front of her bathroom mirror, practicing.
"Hi, I’m Sarah Mitchell. Thank you so much for this opportunity."
Too eager.
"Hello. Sarah Mitchell. Pleased to et you."
Too formal.
"Hi. Sarah Mitchell."
Better. Simple. Not trying too hard.
She studied her reflection critically. She’d dyed her hair that afternoon, nothing dramatic, just took her natural black and added subtle warm brown undertones that caught the light differently. Enough to look slightly different from the woman whose face appeared in her dical school records and artist profiles, but not so different that it seed like she was trying to hide.
Sarah Mitchell would be wholeso. Trustworthy. Unremarkable in the best way, the kind of person who blended into the background, who wealthy people felt comfortable having in their hos because she posed no threat.
Forgettable.
Aria had built a career on being unforgettable in her various identities: the brilliant hacker, the sought-after artist, the dical prodigy. But for this role, she needed to be the opposite.
She needed to disappear.
"You can do this," she told her reflection. "It’s just another role. Another identity. You’ve done this a hundred tis."
But even as she said it, sothing felt different about this one. The stakes were higher. The target is more dangerous. The margin for error is nonexistent.
One mistake could cost her everything.
But doing nothing would cost her mother’s life.
Not really a choice at all.
Aria laid out her outfit for tomorrow a modest navy dress that hit just below the knee, low heels, minimal jewelry. Professional but not trying too hard. The kind of thing a young woman interviewing for a housekeeping position would wear.
She’d practiced her backstory until she could recite it in her sleep. Had morized the layout of the estate from satellite images. Had researched Elizabeth Chen and found that she’d worked for the Blackwood family for fifteen years, was known for being strict but fair, valued efficiency and discretion above all else.
Everything was ready.
Everything was perfect.
So why did Aria feel like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, about to jump into darkness?
Because you are, a voice in her head whispered. You’re about to walk into the ho of one of the most powerful n in the country and lie to his face. You’re about to steal sothing irreplaceable. And if you’re caught, there won’t be any coming back from it.
But her mother was dying. And that was the only thing that mattered.
Aria climbed into bed but didn’t sleep. Just stared at the ceiling, running through scenarios, preparing for every possible question, every potential complication.
Tomorrow, everything would change.
Tomorrow, she would step through those gates and beco soone else entirely.
Tomorrow, her carefully ordered life would collide with Damien Blackwood’s world.
She had no idea couldn’t possibly have known that he was already aware of her. Already watching. Already ten steps ahead in a ga she didn’t even know she was playing.
Had no idea that the mont she submitted that application, it had landed on his desk personally. That he’d looked at her photo the carefully staged professional headshot of "Sarah Mitchell" and felt sothing shift inside him.
Couldn’t have imagined that he’d already run his own background check, had already discovered exactly who she was and what she wanted.
Didn’t know that he’d made a decision at that mont: to let her in. To let her play her little ga. To watch her move through his house like a beautiful thief in the night.
To let her think she was in control, right up until the mont he decided to take it all away.
Aria fell asleep finally around 3 AM, dreaming of gray eyes and locked doors and plants that glowed in the darkness.
She woke at dawn with her heart racing, though she couldn’t rember the details of t
he dream.
Just the feeling of being watched.
Of being seen.
Of being caught in sothing she couldn’t escape.
Tomorrow had arrived.
And nothing would ever be the sa again.
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