Chapter 5 5

The Mathews Tower loomed over the city like a steel monolith. Gisele didn't go to the airport. She had one stop left. Her sketchbook-the original, physical book where "Sunny" was born-was still in her office. If Daneen got that, she could forge the timeline.

She used her old access badge on the service entrance. It shouldn't have worked, but the security system update hadn't pushed to the basement levels yet. The light turned green.

She took the freight elevator to the 30th floor. The hallway was quiet. She moved silently, her sneakers making no sound on the carpet.

She reached her office. The nameplate was gone. A piece of paper was taped over the frosted glass: Daneen's Studio.

Gisele felt a vein throb in her temple. She reached for the handle, but voices from inside froze her.

Evander. And Daneen.

She pressed herself against the wall, peering through the gap in the blinds.

Evander was pacing. This is risky, Dee. The board expects Sunny to answer technical questions. You don't know the fabric ratios.

Daneen was sitting in Gisele's chair, her feet up on the desk. She was spinning a pen-Gisele's favorite pen. Who cares about ratios, Van? I have the face. I have the story. 'The miracle survivor who creates beauty from pain.' The stock will triple.

But it's Gisele's work, Evander said. His voice was heavy, tired. We are stealing her soul.

Daneen laughed. It was a sharp, brittle sound. She owes me! She has my blood type. She has my life. She was just holding my place until I got better. Besides, what is she going to do? Sue us? With what money?

Evander stopped pacing. He looked out the window. Just this once, Dee. After the launch, you hire ghostwriters. We pay Gisele a settlement. We send her away quietly.

Gisele slid down the wall to the floor. A settlement. Payoff money. That was what she was worth to him.

She pulled out her burner phone. She opened the voice recorder. She held it up to the gap under the door.

I need you to say it, Daneen said, her voice dropping to a purr. Say she is nothing.

She is... the past, Evander said. You are the future.

Gisele stopped recording. The file saved.

A noise from the hallway-a janitor's cart squeaking-made Evander turn toward the door. Who's there?

Gisele scrambled. She couldn't be found here. Not yet. She bolted for the stairwell, the heavy fire door closing just as Evander's footsteps reached the hallway.

She ran down ten flights of stairs before stopping to breathe. Her lungs burned. She exited through the lobby, blending in with the evening rush.

Outside, a massive digital billboard on Times Square flashed. TONIGHT: THE REVEAL. SUNNY IS DANEEN MUELLER.

Gisele stared at the giant face of her sister. The anger that had been a cold knot in her stomach ignited into an inferno. She wasn't going to let them pay her off. She wasn't going to let them send her away.

She walked into an electronics store. She bought a listening device, the size of a button, and a signal jammer.

She knew where Evander parked. She still had the spare key to the Maybach in her purse-he had forgotten to ask for it back.

The parking garage was dark. She unlocked the car. It smelled of him. She suppressed the urge to scream and stuck the bug under the driver's seat.

She sat in a diner across the street, put in her earbuds, and waited.

Twenty minutes later, the audio crackled to life. A door slamming. An engine starting.

Evander's voice, low and distorted by static. God, what have we done?

Daneen's voice, sharp. Shut up and drive. We are making history.