Chapter 16

Chapters seven through twelve before tomorrow."

I nodded, though the thought of more studying after today's schedule made me want to scream.Or cry.Or both.

Lunch with the Vanity Fair editor was a special kind of torture. Maintaining my new identity while answering personal questions about a childhood that never happened required constant vigilance.

"So what was it like, growing up as Victoria Kane's secret daughter?" she asked, recorder running between our plates at the exclusive restaurant Victoria had chosen.

I gave the practiced answer, natural enough to sound genuine. "Private. Sheltered. Mom was always concerned about my safety, especially after what happened to her first family."

The editor leaned forward eagerly."Yes, the tragic accident that claimed her husband and son. You would have been, what, eight when that happened?"①

"Ten," I corrected smoothly, though in reality, I'd been thirteen when Victoria's family died, a fact I'd memorized from public records rather than personal experience. "Too young to fully understand, but old enough to see how it changed her."

"And being sent abroad afterward? That must have been difficult."

"She wanted me safe," I replied, the rehearsed explanation flowing naturally now. "The isolation was challenging, but it forged independence. Mother always says strength grows from discomfort."

The editor scribbled notes, clearly loving the narrative of the mysterious heiress emerging from seclusion.By the time lunch ended, she'd extracted enough quotes for a glowing profile that would further cement my new identity.

I checked my watch as her taxi pulled away. Twenty minutes to reach Madame Rousseau's language studio.Not enough time to rest. Never enough time.