The day started like any other. Dust coated everything at the construction site, and the roar of machinery filled the air as I checked the blueprints. I was walking across the east wing, double-checking the foundation markers, when it happened.

A metallic click under my boot.

I froze. My breath hitched as I looked down. Beneath the dirt and gravel was a faint glint of metal. Panic shot through me.

"Everyone, STOP!" I shouted.

The workers turned to look at me, confusion on their faces. My heart hammered in my chest. This wasn't part of the site.

It had to be a BOMB!

I stayed perfectly still, the seconds dragging like hours. My brain screamed at me to move, to run, but my body wouldn't budge. Every breath felt like it might set the thing off.

"Somebody call the cops!" someone yelled.

The shouting and running only made my panic worse. My legs trembled, and I tried to keep my weight steady.

But then, before anyone could help, the bomb went off.

The last thing I remembered was the deafening roar of the explosion. The world turned white-hot, and I was thrown into the air. Heat, pain, and darkness consumed me as I hit the ground.

I couldn't remember anything that day. All I could remember was somebody helping me!

After a few weeks, when I woke up, the air was different—too clean, too sterile. The harsh beeping of machines filled my ears, and the smell of antiseptic stung my nose. My whole body felt like it had been ripped apart and sewn back together.

I blinked slowly, trying to focus on the room. A hospital.

My throat was dry as I croaked, "What… happened?"

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor made me turn my head—or at least try to. The slightest movement sent a sharp pain shooting through my skull.

"You're awake," a calm voice said.

A woman stepped into view. She was tall, with sharp features and a white coat. Her dark hair was tied neatly back, and her piercing gaze locked onto mine.

"I'm Dr. Victoria," she said. "You're at my clinic."

I stared at her, trying to make sense of her words. "The… the explosion…"

"You were caught in the blast," she said, her tone clinical. "It's a miracle you survived at all."

"M-My face," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

She hesitated for a moment. "Your injuries were… severe. Your face was completely destroyed. I had to reconstruct it."

Her words hit me like another explosion. I stared at her.

Dr. Victoria's expression softened, but there was something guarded in her eyes. "You've been unconscious for weeks. I've been working on you the entire time. But… I couldn't save your face. I had to use a donor."

"A donor?" I asked, my voice trembling. "Whose face am I wearing?"

Her gaze didn't waver as she said, "My daughter's."

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. "Your… daughter?"

She nodded, and for the first time, I saw the cracks in her calm demeanor. "Evelyn. She was my only child." Her voice softened, but there was a sharp edge of pain beneath it.

"What… What happened to her?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"She was murdered," Dr. Victoria said, her jaw tightening. "By her ex-fiancé. Jarkius Montenegro."

My eyes widened.

He was a man I trusted once—my ex-husband!

DAMN. I never knew he could commit a crime!

Her words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. My stomach twisted as I tried to process everything.

I had... the face of a murdered woman.

"Why would you…?" I started, but she cut me off.

"I couldn't save Evelyn," she said, her voice cold but cracking with emotion. "But I could save you. Her face gave you a second chance at life."

I didn't know what to say. The weight of what she had done pressed down on me.

"You're alive because of her," Dr. Victoria continued, her eyes boring into mine. "But this isn't just about survival." She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Jarkius is still out there. He's walking free while Evelyn is gone."

I felt a cold chill run through me.

“You owe her," she said, her voice steady and resolute. "You owe me. I didn't just save your life for nothing."

"What are you saying?" I asked, my voice shaky.

"You have her face now," Dr. Victoria said. "You're her, in a way. And I need you to finish what she couldn't. I need you to make him pay."

Her words sent a jolt through me. She wasn't asking for justice—this was revenge.

I stared at her, the weight of her request crushing me. My hands trembled as I raised them to my bandaged face, feeling the unfamiliar contours beneath the gauze.

"I don't even know who I am anymore," I whispered.

Dr. Victoria's eyes softened, but only for a moment. She glances at the paper she's holding. "You're Sierra Marquez," she said. "But now, you're also Evelyn. Jarkius is a multi-millionaire business tycoon with rotten secrets. Together, we’ll bring him down.”

I didn't know what scared me more—the idea of facing Jarkius or the woman sitting in front of me, who had saved my life at such a terrible cost.

But… how could I tell her that her late daughter’s fiance was my ex-husband who cheated on me?

Weeks had passed, and I was finally calling myself Evelyn Gray. It wasn't easy—accepting someone else's face, someone else's life—but Dr. Victoria didn't give me much of a choice. Evelyn was her daughter, a famous supermodel, and now… she was me.

We planned everything. Dr. Victoria trained me to walk, talk, and act like Evelyn. It felt like I was stepping into a role I never auditioned for, but I kept going. Revenge was the only thing fueling me.

One day, while I was practicing my "graceful walk," Dr. Victoria's phone rang. She frowned at the screen and stepped out to take the call. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but her sharp tone caught my attention.

When she returned, her face was unreadable. "We've got an opportunity," she said.

"What kind of opportunity?" I asked.

"Jarkius is hosting an auction," she explained. "It's private. Very exclusive. My assistant, Sayid, managed to get us a VIP ticket. He's very close to me, I told him everything about you. You can trust him."

I shook my head slightly.

My stomach churned at the mention of his name. "And you want me to go."

"Yes," she said firmly. "You're Evelyn now. He won't ignore you."

The night of the auction, I stepped out of a sleek car in a glittering blue diamond gown. The dress hugged me perfectly, and my hair and makeup were flawless. I didn't feel like myself—I felt like a stranger in my own skin.

But I had to play the part.

As I entered the grand estate, whispers followed me. I ignored them, scanning the room. Then, I saw him.

Jarkius Montenegro.

He was standing near the center of the crowd, effortlessly charming a group of people. His sharp suit, perfectly styled hair, and smug smirk made my blood boil. For a moment, I felt my rage bubble over.

Then, his eyes met mine.

Shock flickered across his face before he masked it with confusion. I took a deep breath and walked straight toward him.

“E-Evelyn?" he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

I tilted my head, letting a sly smile play on my lips. "What's wrong, Jarkius? You look like you've seen a ghost."

He stared at me, his confidence shaken. "I… I didn't know you'd be here."

Before he could say anything else, my hand shot up, and I slapped him across the face.

HARD.

Good thing, nobody noticed us.

Gasps erupted around us. "That's for everything you've done," I said through gritted teeth.

His jaw clenched, but he stayed silent. The tension between us was suffocating. I turned and walked away, leaving him stunned.

When the auction started, I slipped away from the crowd. The buzz of conversation faded as I entered Jarkius’s private office. Dr. Victoria had told me there might be something there—something to expose him.

The office was quiet, dimly lit, and perfectly organized. I searched through drawers and cabinets, my hands trembling. There had to be something, anything—

Footsteps!

I froze, heart pounding, and ducked behind a curtain just as the door opened.

"You promised me she was dead!"

It was a woman’s voice. Sharp. Angry.

"You said Sierra was gone, Jarkius!" she hissed. "How is this possible? There’s no way she could’ve survived!"

I pressed myself closer to the wall, holding my breath.

"Lower your voice, Anitha, close the door," Jarkius snapped. "Do you want everyone to hear?”

Anitha? His assistant? Now, the woman he cheated on me with?!

“She should’ve died in that explosion!” Anitha hissed. “We planned everything perfectly. So why can’t they find her body?”

My blood ran cold.

“She’s dead,” Jarkius said dismissively.

“You better be right,” Anitha spat. “If anyone finds out—”

I couldn’t hear the rest. My ears were ringing. They had planned it. The explosion wasn’t an accident.

THEY TRIED TO KILL ME.

As they left, I stepped out from behind the curtain, my hands clenched into fists. My mind was clearer than ever.

“You’ll pay for this,” I whispered to myself.

The auction ended, and I slipped out before Jarkius could corner me. The night air was cool, but my skin burned with rage and adrenaline.

The black car idled at the curb, its engine humming softly. Sayid was supposed to pick me up, but I didn’t see him. I glanced around, frowning.

Something felt… off.

Before I could react, the screech of tires filled the air. A black van roared around the corner and skidded to a stop in front of me.

My heart leaped into my throat as the van doors slammed open.

“Get her!” a voice barked.

Men in black masks lunged out, rushing toward me.

I didn’t think—I just ran. My heels clicked against the pavement as I rushed down the street, my dress getting in the way.

“Stop her!”

Adrenaline surged through me as I turned into an alley. My chest heaved, my legs burning. I had no idea where I was going, but I knew I couldn’t stop.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed my arm, yanking me backward. I screamed, thrashing, but the grip was iron.

A rag was pressed against my face, and the sharp, sickly-sweet smell of chloroform filled my nose.

“No!” I gasped, fighting to stay conscious.

Darkness closed in, swallowing me whole.

When I woke up, my head throbbed, and the cold metal of a chair pressed against my skin. My wrists were tied behind me, and a single lightbulb swung overhead, casting eerie shadows across the room.

A figure stepped into the light, their silhouette familiar.

“You should’ve stayed dead.”

A low chuckle echoed from the shadows, making my skin crawl. The familiar voice cut through the haze of my mind like a knife.

I blinked, squinting as the light above flickered, and the figure stepped closer. My heart skipped a beat.

Sayid.

The same Sayid who had been on my side, the one I’d thought I could trust. His dark eyes gleamed beneath the mask, his expression unreadable as he crouched down in front of me.

I struggled against the ropes binding me, my pulse quickening. “W-What’s going on, Sayid? Why are you wearing that mask? What the hell is happening?”

He paused for a moment, scanning the room with a sharp gaze. “Pretending," he said. “I can't let you ruin our plans."

The urgency in his tone was clear. “W-What do you mean?” I demanded.

The door to the small, dimly lit room creaked open, and Sayid stood up quickly, his posture tense. He turned to me, his eyes cold and calculating. “Stay quiet,” he ordered.

I had no choice but to obey. The door swung open fully, and a masked figure stepped inside, his movements slow and deliberate. He paused as if scanning the room for any signs of life. Sayid stood at the edge of the shadows, blending in like one of them, his body language mimicking the masked man’s rigid stance.

Sayid nodded subtly at the intruder, his body language imitating the posture of the others. “All clear,” he muttered in a voice I barely recognized. It was calm, controlled, like he’d done this a thousand times before.

The figure didn’t respond, but after a long moment, he turned and exited the room.

Sayid immediately rushed over, cutting through the ropes with practiced ease. “We need to go. Now,” he urged, grabbing my arm and pulling me to my feet.

My legs wobbled beneath me, and I stumbled, my head still spinning. “Where are we…” I demanded, trying to regain my bearings.

“You’ll see,” he said cryptically, guiding me toward the door. I didn’t have time to protest as he half-dragged me through the hallways, moving faster than I could keep up with.

The heavy thud of footsteps echoed in the distance, making my pulse spike. I tried to pull away.

Sayid stopped abruptly, his grip tightening on my wrist. “You have to trust me, Sierra. This is the only way.”

I glanced back, but the sounds of the other masked figures grew louder, and the tension in the air made my stomach turn.

With a final glance over his shoulder, Sayid pulled me through a narrow passageway and into the woods outside the old factory. The cool night air hit me like a slap to the face, and I gasped for breath, trying to make sense of everything.

Before I could voice another question, Sayid yanked me down a dirt path, pulling me through the trees. The ground beneath my feet was uneven, but I kept running, hoping that this was all just a nightmare. I tried to break free, my heart racing, but Sayid’s grip on my arm tightened.

“Let go of me!” I shouted, pulling against him. I needed answers, and I wasn’t going to let him drag me off without them.

I stumbled for a few more steps, but my legs couldn’t keep up with the urgency in his movements. Before I could react, Sayid spun me around, his hands firm but gentle on my shoulders.

That’s when he saw it. The faint birthmark just behind my ear, the one I never paid much attention to. The mark that no one ever mentioned—except now, in the glow of moonlight, he could see it clearly. It wasn’t a coincidence.

HE INTENDED TO DO THAT.

Sayid froze, his eyes locked on it, his breath hitching in surprise. “I knew it. It’s there…” he muttered, almost to himself. “The mark…”

I pulled away, my breath shallow as I felt the panic rise in my chest. “What mark? W-What are you talking about?”

Sayid’s expression shifted, his lips parting as if he was about to say something monumental. “Sierra, y-you’re Dr. Victoria’s real daughter,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with disbelief.

The world seemed to slow down, my mind struggling to keep up. “W-What?” I stammered, unable to comprehend what he was saying. “No. That can’t be right.”

“You’re her biological child,” Sayid continued, his voice heavy with guilt. “Evelyn was adopted. She was never meant to be her daughter. I—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair, frustration and regret flickering in his eyes. “I swapped you two at the hospital. It was the only way to keep you safe.”

My mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of my life, the lies. “Why would you do that?!”

“I couldn’t,” Sayid said, his gaze intense and full of regret. “It was too dangerous. If your real father found out who you were, he would’ve used you to destroy everything. The only way to protect you was to keep you hidden. To keep you away from all of this.”

I stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in, but before I could respond, the sound of distant shouting reached our ears. Sayid’s eyes flickered toward the mansion in the distance, his face darkening.

We ran, deeper in the woods. It was a half of our before we finally arrived at our destination— the mansion.

And then a familiar voice.

A few seconds, we heard gunshots!

“L-Let's go, it's too dangerous. H-He killed Dr. Vic—"