INICIAR SESIÓNTwenty minutes until the call, and Nina was a mess. Her nerves were shot, her hands shaky. Maybe if she hadn’t witnessed Axel storming into the boardroom like a man on a mission the day before, she’d be calmer. Maybe if she wasn’t being spoon-fed instructions on exactly how to handle him, this whole thing would feel less suffocating. But here she was, stuck between a rock and a hard place, trying to embody a woman she wasn’t. She dabbed another layer of foundation onto her face, staring at her reflection with growing frustration. Even though she and Adelaide had the same face, Nina still didn’t see herself looking like Adelaide no matter how much she tried. Every lipstick shade she picked felt wrong. Red was Adelaide’s signature color, bold and striking—but on Nina? It made her feel ridiculous. Like a clown in an expensive disguise. Even Rita had once thought so of her too. “You seem to be struggling with what to wear on your face,” Rita’s voice chimed in, smooth and ever-so-intr
Ten minutes later, Nina had finished her lunch and had barely begun to digest it before Rita was on her case again. “Proceed to the classroom immediately,” Rita ordered, her voice crisp and unrelenting. “Your lessons on the Whitlocks’ lifestyle and achievements begin now.” Nina sighed but dragged herself there anyway, knowing full well there was no escape. The lecture that followed was mind-numbingly monotonous. Rita droned on, rattling off achievements, historical milestones, and the intricacies of Whitlock etiquette, while Nina sat with an open textbook in front of her, pretending to follow along. She nodded occasionally—just enough to give the illusion that she was paying attention. But of course, Rita wasn’t content with merely lecturing. Every so often, she would pause mid-sentence to correct Nina’s posture. “Straighten your back,” she snapped. “No signs of fatigue. A Whitlock does not slouch.” Nina gritted her teeth and obeyed, forcing her spine into an impossibly
The next morning, after completing her usual routine, Nina was subjected to a protocol lecture—a crash course in how to walk, talk, and even eat like Adelaide Whitlock. There were rules for everything: how to move indoors, how to carry herself in public, how to exist without setting off alarms. And then came the real torment. The practical session had started an hour ago, but Rita, in all her sadistic glory, seemed to have no intention of letting it end. She made Nina repeat the exercises again and again, finding fault in everything, taking obvious delight in sending her back to square one. “Again,” Rita commanded. Nina groaned, dragging a frustrated hand through her hair. “Wrong,” Rita snapped. “A lady never carelessly ruffles her hair—especially not in public. One must always treat their appearance with care. But clearly, you don’t seem to grasp that. Again.” Nina exhaled sharply. “Why do you hate me so much?” she asked. Rita let out a light, almost amused chuckle. “O
What do you mean I’m getting adopted?” Nina barely recognized her own voice—sharp, disbelieving, tethering on the edge of something dangerously close to panic. Don just chuckled, as though she’d cracked a joke instead of demanded an explanation. “I think you should be happy,” he said smoothly, slipping a phone from his pocket. “Fate has finally smiled on you.” His fingers moved across the screen, and then he turned the phone toward her. “Take a look at this. Do you recognize the girl?” She didn’t move. Didn’t even glance at the screen. Because none of this made sense. Because she didn’t trust him. Because she was this close to losing her mind. So she just stared at his face, unmoving. Don sighed, exasperated. “Come on, just look.” She didn’t want to. But if humoring him meant getting this bizarre conversation over with faster, then fine. Snatching the phone from his hand, she dragged her gaze to the image on the screen. At first, she barely processed what she
The moment she settled into the conference hall, the screen flickered to life—revealing Bruce and Janet already seated. Both were in their nightwear, a detail that struck her immediately. But it wasn’t just their attire that caught her attention. It was the contrast between their expressions. Janet greeted her with a warm smile, one that radiated a motherly softness. Bruce, in stark opposition, wore a look of barely concealed disapproval, his lips pressed into a firm, unforgiving line. A promising start. “Good evening,” Nina said, forcing a polite smile as she adjusted in her seat. Janet’s smile widened. “I hope we didn’t disturb your sleep?” She shook her head. “Of course not. I wasn’t even asleep yet.” Janet’s smile dimmed ever so slightly. “Oh? Why is that? Something on your mind?” There was something disarming about Janet’s tone, a brush of genuine concern that caught her off guard. “Not really… I was just about to sleep when Rita announced that there was a meeting.
The rest of the day after the board meeting passed in a blur—yet somehow, it still managed to be exhausting. By the time dinner concluded, Nina felt as if she had been wrung dry. When she was finally dismissed to retire for the night, she nearly sagged with relief. Back in her room, she peeled off her clothes and sank into the bathtub, letting the warm water envelop her like a cocoon. Her muscles ached, her mind swirled with thoughts, and despite the overwhelming fatigue, she couldn’t stop herself from comparing her past life to the one she now inhabited. It was almost laughable. Before, she had been fighting to survive—scraping by, doing whatever was necessary just to keep going. And now? She was still fighting, just on a grander, far more dangerous scale. Life was brutal, no matter one’s position. The only difference between the wealthy and the desperate was the resources at their disposal. But comparisons were meaningless. No matter how difficult things became in this new exis
“And we shall all raise our glasses and cheer to that!” Nina turned quickly toward the speaker, her eyes locking with Axel’s. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his gaze—a glint of approval, or perhaps amusement—that left her both unsettled and oddly satisfied. Waiters mo
Mrs. Whitlock’s lips tightened, then softened. “We are counting on you,” she said, her voice low and weighted with expectation. “I know,” Nina replied, her voice steady, even if her hands weren’t. Mr. Whitlock stepped forward, commanding the room with an ease born from decades of power. “Now,”
A sharp pang of panic surged through her. Was he coming to confront her? Had he seen something in her face, something that betrayed the illusion? This wasn’t part of the script. She had practiced for countless scenarios—every line, every expression, every calculated interaction. But no one had pr
The man’s feet dragged limply across the polished marble floor, his weight sagging between the two guards who hauled him forward without ceremony. His dark suit was rumpled, his tie askew, his head lolling like a puppet with its strings cut. Nina’s breath hitched. The crowd had begun to shift,







