SORAYA

My legs were still a little unsteady when I stepped out of the bathroom.

Why?

ZAYNE HAPPENED.

His scent: dark, expensive, addictive. It still clung to my skin.

My lips tingled like he was still kissing me.

We almost had sex. He'd stopped.

And that said a lot, more than an actual make-out session ever could.

Men like him don't pull back unless they're thinking, calculating, wanting.

I pushed through the bar crowd, sucked in the cold night air and let it cool down the fog of heat he left behind.

I needed to focus.

Zayne was a distraction.

Though I feel he might be a good distraction for me in the nearest future.

A very attractive and dangerous one at that.Don't know how, but I'll figure that out later.

For now, I have enemies who were already ten steps ahead of me. I need to get my head back in the game.

My phone buzzed as I walked down the street toward the parking lot.

A message from Reid:

<b> Where are you?

Marissa said you disappeared after the audition.

We need to talk.

I laughed out loud.

People turned, but I didn't care.

He needed to talk because he was scared.

Good.

I reached the car, leaned against it and scanned the street.

Cars pulled up; people were leaving already.

Then, Reid's familiar SUV rolled into the parking lot.

He hadn't seen me yet.

I stayed in the shadows.

Marissa was in the passenger seat, legs crossed, hair perfectly curled, smiling at Reid in a way that looked sweet to strangers... But I knew better.

That smile was a leash.

Reid said something.

Marissa's smile tightened, and then he flinched.

Hmmm... Still the same dynamic.

Marissa is pulling the strings.

Reid tripping over himself just to please her.

I must commend Merissa for being too good at this manipulating stuff.

Their car idled for a moment.

Marissa adjusted her mirror.

Her eyes flicked toward where I stood.

And for the first time ever, I didn't look away.

I held her gaze, calm and unblinking.

Her smile faltered by a millimetre, but I saw it.

"Good!" I whispered to myself and smirked.

She nudged Reid. He looked too. Then, his face tightened.

Even better.

That single look told me everything;

They might not know what I remembered.

But they know for sure that something changed in me.

I stepped out of the shadows and walked toward the bar entrance, passing their SUV.

Not close enough to speak to them but close enough to make them feel unsettled.

I walked slowly, in such a way that I could still see them with the side of my eye.

A paper slipped from my purse and floated to the ground, completely intentionally.

Reid noticed immediately.

He always noticed things that made him paranoid.

Then Marissa stepped out of the car and picked it up.

Her eyes scanned the single, scribbled line:

"We should recheck my dad's will. What do you think?"

Her fingers stiffened.

Reid reached for it.

She snatched the paper back again.

"Do you think she's suspecting things already?" he whispered.

"I-"

She cleared her throat.

"I don't know, but we need to be more careful now."

"But what if-"

"Reid," she hissed, "we just need to be careful. I doubt she suspects a thing."

No, sweetheart.

I know everything.

I didn't go back, didn't acknowledge them and didn't even glance back.

The best wounds are the ones made without touching.

---

"Interesting technique."

His voice slid into my ear like silk dipped in sin.

I didn't jump. I should have.

But Zayne already had that effect on me, showing up like shadows shifting into shape.

He stood near the wall, hands in his pockets, eyes following the SUV like he already knew exactly who they were and why I cared.

"You still haven't gone home," I said softly.

He tilted his head.

"Then I would have missed out on this drama."

His gaze dipped to my lips, slowly, deliberately.

Heat rushed through me.

I hated that he could do that with just a look. I mean, it hasn't been up to 24 hours since we met. How can he have such an effect on me??

"Forgot to ask, did you enjoy the audition?" he asked.

"Did you enjoy the bathroom?" I shot back.

His smirk sharpened, just a twitch.

"Very much," he said. "Which is why I'm curious what you're doing now."

I stepped closer, just enough.

"Making small moves," I whispered.

"And those two?" He jerked his chin slightly toward Reid and Marissa's SUV.

"Bigger moves," I said.

"So you have enemies."

It wasn't a question; it didn't sound like one. Sounded more like an observation.

I met his eyes fully.

"Don't you?"

For a moment, something dark flickered behind his gaze, not danger, but recognition.

Then he chuckled, low and soft.

"You're going to get yourself into trouble," he murmured.

I smiled.

"I already did."

-

After Zayne walked away, slipping into the night like a warning, I headed toward my car.

As I pulled the door open, a thin folder slid off the seat onto the ground.

Dr Chen's handwriting clipped across the top.

My breath caught. I picked it up and flipped it open.

Sedative dosages.

Dates.

Adjustments.

Side effects.

Instructions.

And then, one line circled twice:

"Monitor closely. Cardiac response expected."

My father's medication.

My medication.

My throat tightened, anger rising like heat behind my eyes.

I am not grieving anymore, nor am I depressed.

I've been given an opportunity to rewrite all wrongs from my past.

Time to make a plan.

A quiet erasure.

I closed the folder with trembling fingers and whispered:

"Not this time."

I put it in the passenger seat, started the engine, and stared at my reflection in the rearview mirror.

I looked younger.

But the woman in my eyes?

She isn't just a younger Soraya.

She is a reborn one.

Sharper, smarter and more dangerous than they ever expected.

Then I smiled, slowly, cold, promising.

"Let the games begin."

SORAYA

The steering wheel was still warm from my hands even after I parked in front of my house.

My pulse hadn't slowed. Today was a lot for me.

 From the rebirth to the auditions to almost making out with Zayne...

Zayne...

His breath on my cheek...

His hand on my waist...

The way he paused, like kissing me would've been a mistake he'd make twice.

I swallowed, leaning back.

Get it together, Soraya. You're not here for romance. You're here for revenge.

Inside my living room, the silence wrapped around me like a blanket I didn't trust.

I picked up my phone, scrolled through and saw one name: Attorney Lawson.

Dad's oldest friend. His lawyer too. The only one I wasn't sure had been compromised.

My thumb hovered. A second of hesitation. Then two. Then I finally hit call.

 He picked up after the line rang twice.

"Soraya? Are you alright?"

My throat tightened. "No. But I will be."

A beat of silence carried the unspoken questions.

"I need someone who sees deeper than the surface," I said quietly. "Someone I can trust."

"You can trust me," he said firmly. "Tell me what's going on."

Not yet. Not until I had solid proof.

"Soon," I whispered. "I promise."

I ended the call before he could pull me into more emotion.

If I'm going to win this, I can't fight alone. But I have to choose my allies like I choose my weapons, very carefully.

 --

 It's been two weeks now; I still haven't heard any news from the audition, but there isn't a "no" message. That's something positive to hold onto.

Besides, I believed in myself and I did very well in the auditions, plus my memory is very correct.

 I didn't get the role in my past life; Marissa did in place of me. This time, I'm winning the audition for sure.

I stepped out onto my balcony for some air; a familiar black car slowed in front of my gate.

My heart kicked.

Zayne.

He wasn't coming to me, no. He didn't even know I lived here.

But as he spoke to someone through the open window, his voice carried up the quiet street.

"I don't tolerate incompetence," he said, tone sharp and controlled. "Fix it. Tonight!"

The command in his voice vibrated through me.

His shoulders were relaxed but ready, like a man used to handling problems without raising his voice.

When he ended the call, he glanced up the street by chance.

His eyes met mine across the distance.

A small, knowing smile tugged at his lips.

He didn't call me over.

He didn't speak.

He just looked... like he already knew I was on the same path he was.

And then he drove off.

He doesn't just talk power... He moves like someone who owns it.

I hated how much I noticed that.

The next morning, I left the house earlier than usual and headed toward Dad's real estate firm building.

The sky was still pale, barely awake. Perfect.

They weren't expecting me.

The security guards bowed slightly when they saw me. They were polite... but cautious. Ever since Dad died, everyone in this building moved like they were walking on cracked glass.

I didn't bother heading to my usual office. I took the long hallway instead, the one wrapped in thick glass that reflected my silhouette back at me. I looked calm. Unbothered.

But inside?

Every step felt like loading a gun.

Just as I approached the west wing, I heard it: whispers. Sharp, hurried, and annoyingly familiar.

I slowed down.

The door was slightly open. Enough for sound to leak out.

Marissa's voice cut through first. Cold. Irritated.

"She's getting restless," she muttered. "We need her distracted."

Restless? Of course she would be talking about me.

I almost laughed out loud. The audacity.

If only she knew how deeply I'd been studying her.

Her patterns, her pride, her obsession with winning.

Reid's voice followed, lower than hers, almost strained. "Just... don't underestimate her."

I felt my lips curve.

Interesting. So he was starting to feel it. The shift. The fact that I wasn't the quiet, grieving girl they thought they could manoeuvre around anymore.

Marissa scoffed, pacing. "She's emotional. That's her weakness."

I blinked slowly.

Emotion wasn't my weakness.

It was my weapon.

I leaned closer, careful not to make a sound. My heart wasn't beating fast; it was steady. Steady in a way that told me I was exactly where I needed to be.

They kept talking, throwing out little details. Minor plans, minor lies, and small manipulations – they wanted to slip into place over the next week.

Pathetic.

They thought they were plotting.

They were just exposing themselves.

Good, I thought. Keep underestimating me, both of you. Let's see how far that gets you.

I stepped back, heels silent against the floor, and walked away before they sensed anything.

By the time I reached the elevator, my pulse had finally picked up from the thrill of being several steps ahead of them.

---

 I had different meetings.

All discussing with the shareholders and higher executives in the firm how the ownership of the firm would be transferred to me.

Marissa's facial expressions were a true sight to behold.

Back in my car, I didn't even turn on the engine. I just locked the doors, slid into the seat properly, and pulled out Dad's old leather notebook, the one he never went anywhere without.

Found it in his drawer. Lucky for me, no one saw it while clearing my dad's stuff from his office.

The moment it touched my palms, the world outside went quiet.

This is where the real war started.

I flipped to a fresh page and tapped my pen against the paper, steady and rhythmic, like a heartbeat syncing with my thoughts.

I replayed everything from the hallway earlier.

Marissa's impatience.

Reid's uncertainty.

The cracks are forming between them.

Every detail mattered.

My mind mapped out the battlefield:

Pressure points - Marissa's ego, Reid's lack of confidence, their need for control.

Weaknesses - their overconfidence, lack of subtlety, and desire to push me out quickly.

Predictable habits - they moved fast when scared, sloppy when overconfident.

Possible allies - Zayne... maybe. If I could trust him. Attorney Lawson.

Possible traps - anything involving my emotions, my routines, or my father's legacy.

Step one: make them stumble.

Step two: gather proof.

Step three... strike.

A targeted hit, clean and precise.

Something they wouldn't recover from.

I drew a small box around one phrase on the page:

"Control the narrative."

If they thought they could spin stories behind closed doors, I would open every door and make the truth echo.

I shut the notebook with a soft click and leaned back, inhaling deeply.

For a moment, my reflection in the car window held my gaze.

My eyes looked... different. Sharper. Focused.

Alive in a way I hadn't seen since Dad smiled at me the last time.

"I can't fight this alone," I whispered into the quiet car. "But I refuse to lose."

The old Soraya died the day Marissa pushed me down the stairs.

This one?

This one is ready to burn their entire plan to the ground and rebuild everything they tried to take.

SORAYA

I sat in my car outside the firm, engine off, fingers curled loosely around Dad’s leather notebook.

The air inside was still, too still, like the pause before a storm decides whether to break or not.

The conversations I overheard a few weeks back still clung to me. Marissa’s arrogance, her plans to “manage” me, the little cracks I’d noticed in her careful composure.

Good.

Let her think I was manageable. Let her believe I hadn’t noticed.

I flipped open the notebook, scanning my own handwriting from last night, tight, controlled strokes.

“Control the narrative.”

Today, I would test just how quickly she’d take the bait.

I reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a thin envelope—handwritten, aged paper, with Dad’s signature at the bottom.

A copy of a clause from his will. Not the real one. Just enough truth to make Marissa panic without exposing my full hand.

I slid the envelope into my bag, locked the car and walked into the building.

The receptionist smiled too politely. The elevator hummed too softly. Every sound felt amplified. The click of my heels echoed down the hallway like a countdown.

I exhaled once, slowly, letting my heartbeat settle into a hunter’s rhythm.

Precision matters. One slip… one glance… that’s all I need.

The office arena felt colder than usual as I stepped inside. The secretaries moved around quietly, whispering to each other, filing documents.

Perfect cover for a trap. I didn’t announce myself.

I placed the envelope on my desk, deliberately halfway under a thick stack of memos where anyone “curious” enough to snoop would see it. A perfect accidental invitation.

Then I left my office door slightly ajar, just a finger’s width.

Just enough to create suspicion.

I positioned myself near the reflective glass wall in the hallway. From there, I could see any shadows moving in my office.

Minutes passed. Then movement. The soft click of heels. Marissa. Alone, then she paused at the edge of my office’s open door, scanning the floor and arena, pretending she had “just passed by”.

She walked into the office. Then her fingers brushed over the envelope on my desk.

The micro-facial tics were subtle – eyes narrowing, a soft exhale through her nose – but I noticed it.

 Every micro-expression mapped in my mind.

Her lips pressed together. Her shoulders stiffened.

Good!

Marissa picked up the envelope and scanned the handwriting. Her posture shifted instantly.

“Wait… that’s not possible,” she muttered softly, voice low enough that a passerby wouldn’t catch it, but loud enough that my trained ears did.

Her hand trembled faintly as she read again, double-checking.

I allowed myself a tiny, imperceptible smile.

Yes, it is possible. And now I have you right where I want you.

She tucked the envelope into her purse, clutching it like it was contraband.

 The subtle bite of panic was just what I needed. Her confidence had always been her mask, but the mask had slipped.

Her eyes darted to the hallway.

She paused, scanning, instinctively looking for witnesses or allies; none here.

The soft click of the elevator down the hall made her jump slightly. I let her stew in it. Let the little doubt grow. This was all mental warfare.

—

My phone buzzed & I glanced down.

<b> `Left wing cameras blind for 4 minutes. You’re welcome. Zayne.`

A small smile tugged at my lips. Zayne. No greetings nor explanations. Just a single intel that proved one thing: he really cared.

I should be questioning myself;

“How did he get your number?”

“What does he want from me?”

But for unknown reasons I felt comfortable. I didn’t panic.

Then I felt it. His presence was strong and authoritative.

His scent, dark and addictive, kept lingering in my nostrils.

I just knew for sure that he is here, somewhere.

I lifted my head slightly. In the reflection at the far end of the hallway, I saw him, leaning against the wall, hands in pockets, casual posture, watching.

He didn’t approach me. He didn’t even wave. Just observed, his presence is a silent force.

His ghost of a smirk reminded me of the bar— "And what do you think I am?" I asked."Dangerous."

I gave him a slight nod, acknowledging him without moving.

Then he slipped away quietly, just another shadow merging into the hallway, as usual.

Marissa finally moved toward the elevator, the envelope still in her grip. She paused mid-step, eyes scanning the reflection of my office window. Her gaze sharpened.

She sensed something.

I didn’t blink. I didn’t shift. I just let a calm, unreadable smile curve my lips; a small, deliberate show of confidence.

She faltered slightly. Her breath caught for a second.

Jeez… I would have recorded if I could have. That hesitation? Evidence of fear.

Her steps quickened. She turned, holding herself taut, like a predator sensing another predator.

A quiet thrill ran through me.

She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s already on my map. Every move she makes from now on, every word, every glance – it’s being noted.

By the time she disappeared around the corner, I closed my office door gently, picked up my notebook, and wrote a single, sharp line under “Control the narrative”:

“The hunt begins.”

For the first time since my rebirth, I felt it in my chest: complete clarity, absolute direction.

Let her suspect me. Let her tremble. Let her plot.

This was only the first trap.

And I had many more waiting.