Chapter 2

Aileen stepped into the massive bedroom and immediately slammed the door shut behind her.

She reached out with shaking fingers and twisted the deadbolt. The heavy click echoed in the quiet room, locking the danger out.

She walked toward the center of the room. Her legs felt like they were made of lead. When the backs of her knees hit the edge of the velvet mattress, she let herself fall.

She sat on the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands.

Oracle, she called out in her mind.

A translucent blue system panel projected directly onto her retinas, hovering seamlessly within her field of vision.

Aileen swiped her finger through the empty air, scrolling through the detailed plot summary of The Caged Bird of High Society.

She read the words on the glowing screen. The original owner of this body, a woman who shared her exact name, had locked Jadyn in a freezing panic room in the middle of winter. She had done it just to force her husband to come home from a business trip.

Aileen's stomach dropped. A wave of intense nausea hit her. She slapped a hand over her mouth and dry heaved, her throat throbbing with a dull, muffled ache from the lingering bruises. The phantom burning sensation lingered at the edges of her awareness, a cruel reminder of what had just happened.

She forced herself to keep reading. The original Aileen had constantly used the most vile, degrading words to humiliate Archer about his background, stepping on every single boundary he had.

Aileen's heart rate spiked. Her palms grew slick with cold sweat. The sheer magnitude of the original owner's death wish was terrifying.

She reached out and tried to tap the 'Exit' button on the top right corner of the screen. She wanted out. She wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

Request denied, Oracle's robotic voice chimed.

A bright red countdown timer appeared in the corner of the panel, ticking down the seconds of her life.

Aileen's eyes were dragged back to the text. She scrolled down to the original owner's final ending.

Archer, finally pushed past his breaking point, had her thrown into an illegal, underground psychiatric facility.

The text described the daily electroshock therapy. The physical abuse. The isolation. It ended with the original Aileen taking her own life in a padded cell.

Aileen started to shake. Her fingers dug into the silk bedsheets, gripping the fabric so hard her knuckles turned white.

She jumped up from the bed. She paced the length of the massive bedroom, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet.

She stopped in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The glittering skyline of Manhattan stretched out below her, the pale morning light washing over the steel and glass towers. The city was waking up-a distant hum of traffic, the glint of sunlight on windows-while she stood trapped in a nightmare.

She pressed her palm flat against the glass. The freezing temperature of the window seeped into her skin, a harsh physical reminder that none of this was a dream.

Aileen turned away from the window and walked into the walk-in closet. She stood in front of the full-length mirror.

She stared at the woman in the reflection.

It was her face. The exact same face she had in her previous life. But the eyes were sunken, surrounded by dark, bruised circles. Her skin was sickly pale. She looked like a ghost.

She raised a trembling hand. Her fingertips brushed against the cold glass of the mirror, tracing the hollow contours of her own cheek.

The image of Jadyn holding that box cutter flashed in her mind. The pure, murderous intent in a six-year-old's eyes.

A heavy, suffocating wave of helplessness crashed over her. She couldn't breathe. Her chest felt tight, restricted by an invisible weight.

Aileen suddenly raised her right hand. She slapped herself hard across the cheek.

The sharp smack echoed in the closet.

The stinging pain flared across her skin, forcing the rising panic back down into her stomach. She had to stay rational.

She walked quickly back to the bed. Oracle, she demanded in her mind. "Is there a beginner's protection period? Anything?"

The system remained silent for two agonizing seconds.

"Compensation granted: A ten percent reduction in physical pain perception."

A cold numbness spread across her throat, dulling the sharp edge of the pain. The ache was still there-a persistent throb beneath the surface-but it was bearable now. She swallowed, testing the sensation. Ten percent. A joke of a compensation, but better than nothing.

Aileen ground her teeth together. Her jaw ached from the pressure. She curled her hands into tight fists at her sides. Ten percent was a joke.

She stared at the red numbers ticking away on her retina. She was not going to end up in a padded cell. She was not going to let that man break her.

Aileen let her body fall backward. She hit the soft mattress like a dead weight.

She closed her eyes, letting the darkness of the room swallow her whole.