Chapter 120: Shadows in the Glass

Aria took a deep breath watching the city blur past her with seconds. The tinted windows of the luxury car turned the vibrant city lights into muted streaks of grey and dull gold. It felt like she was watching the world from inside an aquarium, separated by thick glass, untouchable but also trapped. The leather seat was soft beneath her, the air conditioning set to a perfect, sterile chill, but Aria felt like she was burning up from the inside.

The driver, a man named Thomas who barely spoke two words unless it was about the route, kept his eyes fixed on the road. Aria was grateful for the silence. She didn't have the energy to pretend. She didn't have the energy to be Norah, the happy, successful project manager who had just been celebrated by her staff.

In the quiet of the car, the ghosts came out.

Aria looked down at her phone lying on her lap. It was black, sleek, and currently silent. But to Aria, it felt like a bomb.

Emily.

The name echoed in her mind, louder than the hum of the engine. It had been two weeks. Two weeks since the gala. Two weeks since Aria had pointed Emily toward the back door. Two weeks since she had essentially fed her best friend to the wolves to save herself.

Aria picked up the phone. Her fingers trembled slightly. She unlocked the screen and went to her contacts. Her thumb hovered over Emily's name.

"Call her," a voice inside her head whispered. "Call her and apologize. Call her and ask if she is okay. Call her and beg for forgiveness."

But another voice, a colder voice that sounded suspiciously like Marcus, argued back. "And say what? 'Sorry I let Norman Malcovich take you into that room'? 'Sorry I used you as a human shield so I could keep my hands clean for Ethan'?"

Aria bit her lip so hard she tasted iron. What if Emily picked up? What would her voice sound like? Would it be broken? Would it be full of hate? Or worse, would it be silent?

Aria imagined Emily sitting in her small apartment in the slums. She imagined Emily staring at the wall, smoking cigarette after cigarette, the smell of Norman’s cologne still haunting her skin.

"She knew the game," Aria whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the hum of the tires on the asphalt. "She knew we were fighting monsters. Casualties happen in war."

But it was a lie. Aria knew it was a lie. Emily didn't volunteer for that. Emily was undercover, yes. She was tough, yes. She had seen the dark side of the street. But being handed over to a man like Norman Malcovich? That was a different kind of hell.

Aria closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the headrest. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, hot and stinging.

"I did it for the mission," she told herself. "I did it for my parents. I did it for Ethan."

Ethan. The man who was currently in Tokyo, closing deals and buying her gifts, was completely unaware that his girlfriend was a monster. If Ethan knew what Aria had done to protect their relationship, he wouldn't look at her with love. He would look at her with horror. He would see her as exactly what Hannah called her. A devil.

Aria looked at the phone again. She pressed the call button.

The screen changed. Calling Emily...

One ring.

Aria held her breath. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.

Two rings.

Please pick up. Please yell at me. Please just let me know you are alive.

Three rings.

Panic started to set in. Maybe Emily was gone. Maybe she had left the city. Maybe Norman had done something permanent.

Four rings.

Aria’s finger hovered over the red button. Cowardice washed over her. If Emily picked up, Aria would have to confess. She would have to admit that she knew. She would have to admit that she was the one who orchestrated the switch.

"I can't," Aria whispered.

She pressed the red button. The call ended.

She dropped the phone back onto the seat as if it had burned her. She stared out the window, watching her reflection in the glass. She looked pale. She looked like a stranger.

"She won't tell," Aria thought, trying to convince herself. "Whatever happened in that room, Emily is a professional. She knows the code. We survive. We move on. We never forget what we shared together. We are sisters in this war."

But sisters don't sacrifice sisters.

The car began to slow down. The bright lights of Solara Heights came into view. The building stood like a beacon of wealth and security, towering over the rest of the city. It was a place where bad things weren't supposed to happen. A place of marble floors and smiling doormen.

"We are here, Miss Norah," the driver said, his voice breaking her trance.

Aria quickly wiped the corner of her eye with her knuckle. She sat up straighter. She fixed her hair. She had to put the mask back on. She couldn't walk into Solara Heights looking like a broken woman. She had to be Norah.

"Thank you, Thomas," she said. Her voice sounded steady. Good. She was still good at this.

The car stopped at the curb. The door lock clicked open. Aria took a deep breath, grabbing her purse and the black box with the diamond necklace. She stepped out into the cool night air.

The wind ruffled her hair, but it felt refreshing after the stifling heat of the car. She adjusted her coat and began to walk toward the massive glass doors of the entrance.

The two bodyguards who had been following in the car behind her were already there, flanking her on either side. They didn't speak. They just moved like shadows, their presence a constant reminder that she was watched, protected, and trapped.

Aria pushed through the revolving doors and stepped into the lobby.

She expected the usual quiet. Usually, the lobby of Solara Heights was a hushed place, where people spoke in whispers and walked softly on the expensive rugs.

"SURPRISE!"

The shout hit her like a physical wave.

Aria jumped back, her hand flying to her chest.

The lobby was filled with people. The receptionists, usually so professional and reserved, were standing behind the desk with wide smiles. There were balloons—gold and silver—tied to the pillars. A large bouquet of white lilies sat on the counter, their scent filling the air.

"Happy Birthday, Miss Norah!" the head receptionist, a woman named Sarah, called out. She came out from behind the desk, clapping her hands.

Aria stood there, frozen. She blinked, trying to process the scene. How did they know? She hadn't told anyone in the building. Her ID said Norah, but the birthday on her fake ID was different from her real one. Marcus must have set this up. Or...

"What is this?" Aria asked, her voice breathless. She looked around at the residents who were mingling in the lobby. People she had only nodded to in the elevator were now smiling at her, raising glasses of champagne.

"It's a celebration!" Sarah said, beaming. "We got the call this morning. We were told to make sure you felt special the moment you walked in."

Aria felt a wave of paranoia. Was this Marcus again? Was he parading her around?

"Who called?" Aria asked, trying to keep her tone light, but her eyes were sharp.

Sarah winked. "Who do you think? Your fiancé, of course! Mr. Ethan Malcovich."

Aria’s shoulders dropped. Ethan. Of course.

"He called from Tokyo," Sarah continued, looking dreamy. "He arranged for the flowers, the champagne for the residents, everything. He said, and I quote, 'My lady deserves a royal welcome.' He is so romantic, Miss Norah. You are a very lucky woman."

Aria forced a smile. It was genuine this time, but it was tinged with sadness. Ethan. Even from thousands of miles away, he was trying to make her happy. He was so good. So thoughtful. And she was standing here, holding a necklace from her handler, planning to rob his father.

"He is... he is wonderful," Aria said softly. She walked over to the flowers. They were beautiful. Lilies. His mother’s favorite flower. He had told her that once.

"Happy Birthday, dear," an older woman said, walking past with a small dog. She lived on the 12th floor. "Enjoy your night."

"Thank you," Aria said.

"Lovely party," a man in a suit said, nodding at her.

"Thank you."

Everyone was so nice. They all saw the perfect life. The rich fiancé. The beautiful apartment. The beauty. They didn't see the rot underneath.

Aria stayed in the lobby for a few minutes, accepting the well-wishes. She drank a glass of water Sarah offered her, trying to wash the taste of guilt out of her mouth.

"You look tired, Miss Norah," Sarah said kindly. "Long day at the office?"

"Yes," Aria nodded. "Very long. The project is demanding."

"Well, go upstairs and rest. Nexa has probably prepared a bath for you."

Aria nodded. "Thank you, Sarah. This was... really sweet. Please thank everyone for me."

"We will. Goodnight, Miss Norah."

Aria turned to leave. Her bodyguards fell in step behind her. They moved toward the elevators.

As she walked past the massive glass windows that looked out onto the street, something caught her eye.

It was just a flash of movement. A shadow separating itself from the darkness of the alley across the street.

Aria stopped. She turned her head, looking through the glass.

The streetlights were bright, casting pools of yellow light on the pavement. But between the lights, there were deep pockets of shadow.

Something caught Aria's attention. Someone outside the Solara Heights was watching her.

It wasn't a casual observer. It wasn't a fan or a paparazzi. The figure was standing perfectly still, blending into the brickwork of the building opposite. They were wearing dark clothes. A hood was pulled up, obscuring their face. But Aria could feel the weight of their gaze. It was heavy. It was intense.

It felt familiar.

Aria’s heart skipped a beat. Was it Marcus? Was he checking to see if she was wearing the necklace? Was he making sure she came home alone?

Or was it Norman? Did he know what she was planning?

Or... a chill went down her spine... was it Emily?

The thought made her blood turn to ice. Would Emily come here? Would she stand in the dark and watch Aria celebrating her birthday?

Aria took a step toward the window, squinting her eyes, trying to see past the reflection of the lobby lights.

When she turned to look properly, no one was there.

The shadow was gone. The alley was empty. Just a stray cat running across the street.

Aria blinked. Had she imagined it? Was her guilt making her see ghosts?

"Miss Norah?" one of the bodyguards said, his voice low. "Is everything alright?"

Aria snapped out of it. She turned to the guard. "Did you see that? Across the street?"

The guard looked out the window, scanning the area with professional eyes. "I don't see anything, Ma'am. Did you see a threat?"

Aria hesitated. "No. No, I thought I saw... someone I knew. It must have been a reflection."

"We can check the perimeter if you wish," the guard offered.

"No," Aria said quickly. She didn't want them finding Emily if it was her. "No, I'm just tired. Let's go up."

She turned away from the window, but the feeling of being watched didn't leave her. It clung to her skin like a damp web.

She walked to the elevators. The doors opened with a cheerful ding. She stepped inside. The two bodyguards followed, taking their positions at the front of the car, facing the doors.

Aria stood at the back, watching the numbers climb.

10... 20... 30...

Her heart kept pounding. It was a rhythmic thud in her ears. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

The elevator ride felt like it took hours. She clutched the black box to her chest. She felt trapped in the metal box.

Finally, the doors opened on the penthouse floor.

Aria stepped out. The hallway was silent. She walked to her door and placed her thumb on the scanner. The lock clicked open.

She stepped inside her apartment.

"Welcome home," the automated voice greeted her again.

Aria didn't answer. She walked into the center of the living room. It was pristine. Beautiful. Cold.

She looked up.

In the corner of the ceiling, nestled near the smoke detector, was a tiny black dot. The camera.

She stared at it. She knew Marcus was on the other end. Or at least, his recording software was.

She felt a sudden surge of anger. The party at the office. The necklace. The birthday surprise from the staff. The feeling of being watched on the street.

Was it all him? Was he orchestrating every second of her life? Was the figure on the street one of his spies, making sure she didn't run before she delivered the files?

She held up the black box toward the camera, a silent acknowledgment. I got your gift, you bastard.

Then she lowered her hand. She felt small. She felt like a bug under a microscope.

She asked herself, staring at the tiny camera on the ceiling, her voice a whisper in the empty room.

“Is this part of Marcus' scheme?”