"Sign here, here, and initial at the bottom," Chloe Mercer said, tapping the screen of the tablet with a manicured fingernail. "Once this goes through, the lease on the Rue de la Paix studio is locked. It’s entirely in your maiden name. Untouchable."

Nora took the stylus. Her fingers were trembling

The tires of Julian Croft’s Aston Martin shrieked against the wet asphalt as he abandoned the vehicle directly in the ambulance bay of St. Jude’s Medical Center. He didn't bother turning off the engine. He didn't bother shutting the door.

"Mr. Croft! Sir, you can't park here—" a security guard sho

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

The rhythmic, mechanical sound was the first thing to penetrate the heavy, suffocating darkness. Nora Sterling did not want to wake up. The darkness was painless. It was quiet. It demanded nothing of her—no designs, no smiles, no perfect posture to mimic a dead woman.

But the