Chapter 13 Malicious intents
Lisa’s POV
The moment we stepped through the front door, I slammed it so hard the walls trembled. My heels clicked furiously across the living room marble as I paced back and forth like a caged tiger. My blood boiled so violently that I could practically taste the bitterness of it on my tongue.
How dare she.
How dare that impostor humiliate me like that.
“That that thing,” I spat, tossing my clutch on the couch so hard it bounced off. “She’s a fraud! A sham! A cheap, pathetic attempt at stealing my spotlight! Who does she even think she is?”
Adrian said nothing. He simply stood there, shoulders stiff, eyes distant, like his spirit was floating somewhere between the past and the mess we just escaped. His silence was gasoline poured on my raging fire. I wondered what he was thinking about.
I whirled on him. “What? You think she’s real? You think she’s Arielle?”
His jaw tightened. “I don’t know what to think.”
“Then don’t think!” I snapped, jabbing my finger at him. “That’s exactly how people trick you. They show you a face and you immediately start melting. You’re just overwhelmed because you’re guilty about your stupid past.”
His eyes flickered. I hit a nerve, good.
“You’re imagining things,” I added sharply. “Whoever that girl is, she’s trying to get in our heads. Why now? Why appear suddenly? Why work under Zane of all people? It’s clearly a plan, one I won't let us fall into.”
Still no answer. I was getting angrier.
He just ran a frustrated hand through his hair and walked toward the stairs.
Perfect, just walk away. He had always been a coward anyways.
Mom retreated too, muttering something about needing space. Cowards, both of them. Neither had the backbone to confront what was obvious: Rielle, Arielle, whatever she calls herself was a threat. To our name, our careers and our lives.
And I wouldn’t let her win, not again, not ever.
The moment they disappeared down the hallway, I grabbed my phone and dialed a number I never thought I’d use again.
A private investigator, he had helped me in the past before.
If no one else was going to do something, then I would.
Because I refuse,absolutely refuse to be overshadowed. Not by a ghost, not by a comeback brat and absolutely not by the girl who should’ve stayed dead.
I didn’t sleep. Not even for a second. My mind spun all night like gears grinding metal. Thoughts of Rielle’s smirk, her perfect walk, the way Zane looked at her, the way the crowd worshipped her, every image scraped against my nerves until dawn.
By morning, my eyes were swollen with exhaustion and fury as I walked into the brand photoshoot I had been booked for weeks ago. I was the face of their spring campaign. Their face.
But apparently, no one remembered that.
I was halfway to my dressing room when I stopped.
Two producers were whispering behind the makeup station. They didn’t see me; they were too busy gossiping in excitement.
“We need her,” one said breathlessly. “If we can get Rielle for the summer line, we’ll dominate the season.”
“We should be willing to double the offer if that’s what it takes,” the other murmured. “Her numbers are insane right now. Did you see the analytics? She outperformed the top five models combined.”
I froze, my throat tightened. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
They were talking about her. Again.
Always her.
“Rielle…” the first producer sighed. “She’s the new global face. Everyone wants her.”
My heart hammered, a violent mix of humiliation and rage.
Global face?
Everyone wants her?
Her? I felt sick. Physically sick.
I stormed into my dressing room, grabbing the nearest bottle and almost smashing it on the floor. I stopped myself just in time. I couldn’t afford to ruin the shoot or my makeup. They'd replace me without blinking if I made trouble.
The realization hit me harder than it should have. They would replace me, just like that.
Just like how the world replaced Arielle.
Just like how Adrian had started looking at that girl the same way he used to look at Arielle. The thought of him looking at her made my anger rise again.
My fists clenched.
I wasn’t going to be replaced. I wasn’t going to be erased. Not by someone who had been nothing more than a burned corpse in the past. I had to really make sure she's dead.
During my break, I scrolled through social media to reassure myself that I was still trending, still relevant but the moment I opened the app, my heart nearly stopped.
Tabloids.
Articles.
Millions of views.
Pictures.
Zane and New Model Rielle Spotted Having Breakfast in Paris at a Private Luxury Rooftop.
Zane Allegedly Favors Rielle Over Other Models, Sources Say She Is His Latest Obsession.
Rielle Captures Zane’s Attention: New Power Couple in the Industry?
My vision blurred with rage.
Paris?
Breakfast together?
He took her to Paris?
My own pictures, carefully edited, beautifully taken barely had five thousand likes.
Her candid shot, sitting beside Zane with a coffee cup, had exploded beyond global recognition. Twenty million views. Five hundred thousand comments. Trending hashtags everywhere.
I scrolled and scrolled until my fingers hurt.
Everywhere: Rielle. Rielle. Rielle.
I threw my phone onto the vanity table and paced like a madwoman. The world was going crazy, not me.
“No,” I whispered through clenched teeth. “No, no, no. She cannot be Arielle. She can’t be!”
But deep down painfully, terrifyingly deep, I knew she was the one.
Arielle had a way of standing. A way of blinking slowly when she was thinking. A particular way her lips curved when she tried to control her emotions.
Rielle had all of them, every single one.I felt something cold crawl up my spine. Could she have survived?
Impossible.
Or… maybe not.
I swallowed hard, my fingers trembling as I picked up my phone again.
If she was alive, if she was truly walking around with a new face and a new name, then everything I fought for, everything I built upon her ashes, was collapsing.
I would be exposed, Adrian would leave. The industry would turn on me, my career destroyed forever.
Zane, Zane would never look at me if Arielle existed. Fear slithered up my throat.
No.
I needed proof.
I needed to know.
So I dialed another number.
A morgue attendant from years ago, one who handled the documents the night Arielle supposedly died. A man who owed Mira favors. I could manipulate with a cheque and a smile. I smiled to myself.
When he answered, I kept my voice steady and sweet.
“Hello, Mr. Harris? It’s Lisa. I need some information about a girl who died three years ago.”
After the photoshoot, I sat in my car, hands gripping the wheel so tightly my knuckles were white. Everything felt like it was collapsing, my head was pounding.
Everywhere I turned, that girl, Arielle? Rielle? Whoever she was stood like a shadow behind me. At the event. On stage. Online. In conversations. In Zane’s eyes. In Adrian’s silence. I could even see her when I closed my eyes. She was getting on my nerves.
No matter how many times I told myself she was a fraud my heart whispered the truth.
Arielle had come back, or someone wanted us to believe she had.
And if she had the confidence to stand before us without flinching, without shaking then she clearly had help.
Zane.
Of all people, Zane.
An insanely wealthy man. A man whose power wasn’t just money, he was influence, danger, authority. Every major news outlet bowed when he blinked. Every brand scrambled to please him. Every model dreamed of being in his circle.
And now she was beside him,at breakfast, in Paris and trending. She is being protected, being groomed, being elevated.
My throat felt dry. Jealousy blinding my vision.
If I could get close to Zane, everything would change for me. Fame. Power. Global attention. Immediate rise to the top. I could eclipse every model in the industry. Including Arielle. Including her reborn version. I needed him on my side.
Yes. That was the only logical thing.
If she was climbing through him, then I would climb higher. I would take his attention, his admiration, his spotlight.
I deserved it more. A knock on my window snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked out to see the investigator. He offered a small smile.
He climbed into the passenger seat without waiting for an invitation. “I looked into Rielle,” he said, pulling out a folder.
My heart jumped. “And?”
“Her documents are legit. Passport, work contract, background record, everything checked out.”
Of course they did. Zane had that kind of power.
“But,” he continued, flipping a page, “there’s no trace of her in the modeling industry before a month ago. No international photoshoots. No references. No travel history. No public records. I couldn't probe further, it seems like her past has been restricted. ”
My breath hitched. He held up the last page. “And here is the death certificate of Arielle.”
I snatched it.
My eyes scanned the document rapidly. The words Burned, unrecognizable stared back at me in bold letters.
Death confirmed by Mira and Adrian. My breath regulated, falling into rhythm again. Everything looked okay. She really is dead, I just got worked up for nothing.
“ Will that be all?” He asked, already itching to leave.
“ Yes.” I responded with a smile. I handed him the money and he left.
Rielle didn't know what she had just gotten herself into. She's just hot in the spotlight because she's new.
I flopped on my couch the moment I stepped inside, the soft cushions swallowing me as I exhaled deeply. The anger that had been clawing at my throat all evening had finally settled, thinning into something calmer, I felt more relaxed now.
Now I was thinking, I needed ideas, something fresh, bold and impossible to ignore. Something that would snatch the spotlight back where it belonged, a reminder to show the world who the real star was.I unlocked my phone and of course, the first thing that greeted me was Zane and Rielle trending. Still.
With a dramatic huff, I exited the trending tab and opened my gallery instead. At least that was something beautiful to look at me. My photoshoot from earlier glowed on the screen, each shot crisp, professional, perfect. I looked expensive and untouchable. Everything a real star should be.
I refreshed the comments, eyes skimming over the flood of heart emojis, compliments, fans calling me stunning, perfect, iconic.
It soothed something inside me, but not enough. Appreciation was nice, but it wasn’t the same as domination. It wasn’t the same as owning the entire internet for a day straight. Not like how Rielle was doing now.
I set the phone down on my chest and stared at the ceiling, letting the bitterness settle comfortably in my bloodstream. Fine. Let her trend. Let her enjoy her fifteen minutes. Fame that comes overnight burns out just as quickly. That’s the difference between someone like her and someone like me.
I had longevity, I had ambition and most importantly, I had patience. A slow smirk curved at the corner of my lips.
I would crush Rielle. Not loudly, not recklessly, but strategically. Piece by piece, inch by inch, until she had nowhere left to stand. I would reclaim the spotlight, brighter and bigger than before. And Zane… oh, Zane.
He would be mine to manipulate, to twist around my finger, to use however I pleased. Everything took time, but I always won in the end.
I just needed the confirmation from the morgue attendant then I would fully be at peace. I need to speak with Adrian, he still hasn't spoken to me at all since yesterday night.