Zara Winters.
That name still felt foreign, but she wore it like armor. Her real identity—Zara Raine—was buried so deep, even her reflection didn't dare speak it aloud.
She sat in a sterile waiting room, surrounded by fresh-faced applicants in cheap suits, flipping through folders and mouthing rehearsed answers. They looked nervous. She didn't.
Her nerves had burned out five years ago, along with her innocence.
"Zara Winters?" a voice called.
She stood. Smoothly. Confidently. The assistant, a frazzled woman with coffee stains on her sleeve, motioned for her to follow.
The office she was led to was modern and cold—glass walls, steel furniture, and zero warmth. At the desk sat a woman who oozed sharp efficiency: Ms. Celeste Myles, HR manager. Loyal to ValeCorp.Loyal to the same company that bought her father's legacy like it was a clearance item.
"Your résumé is… thin," Celeste said without looking up.
Zara smiled slightly. "I'm resourceful. And I don't crack under pressure."
Celeste raised a brow. "We'll see."
The interview was short. Questions about time management, multitasking, office dynamics. Zara answered each with just enough truth to pass—but not enough to be memorable.
That was the plan.
"Why do you want to work for ValeCorp?" Celeste asked finally.
Zara paused—just long enough to make the silence uncomfortable.
"Because I believe in building from the ground up," she said. "And because I don't believe in losing."
For the first time, Celeste looked up. Her eyes narrowed. And in that moment, Zara saw it—recognition, maybe. Or just instinctual dislike. Either way, it was working.
"Thank you. We'll be in touch."