Chapter 3 Ghosts in Glass Towers

The wedding was three days away, and Ava hadn't seen Lucas Draven since their cryptic dinner.

But his presence was everywhere.

His people controlled the apartment, the driver, the food in the fridge. Every morning, Harper showed up with a new schedule: etiquette training, posture coaching, mock interviews.

"You need to look like the future Mrs. Draven," Harper said, brushing imaginary lint off Ava's designer blazer. "Not like someone who's spent a year scrubbing plates in a diner."

"I didn't know posture could be bought," Ava muttered.

"It can be trained. And everything is for sale-if you know who's buying."

That phrase stuck in her mind long after Harper left.

Ava wandered to the apartment's private balcony. The view was breathtaking-skyscrapers stretching toward a pale-blue sky, the Hudson glittering in the distance. But even this beauty felt like a trick.

Somewhere below, Lily was asleep in her new room with 24-hour private nurses. Ava should have felt relief.

Instead, she felt like a bird in a diamond cage.

---

Later that day, a folder was slid under her door. No knock. No message.

Inside: a stack of profiles-photographs, bios, dossiers. All women. Some Ava recognized from social media or business articles. Others were complete strangers.

She flipped through, frowning. Most were models, CEOs, actresses. Beautiful, ambitious, wealthy.

The final page was a photo of Isabelle Laurent.

The resemblance was eerie.

Same dark hair. Same bone structure. The only difference was Isabelle's eyes-blue, not brown. And colder.

There was a red stamp on the bottom of her page: MISSING – PRESUMED DEAD.

Ava stared, heart thudding.

She didn't remember a sister. Her file at the orphanage had listed her as a single birth. But this woman... this ghost with her face...

Ava slammed the folder shut and marched out of the apartment.

---

The elevator to the Draven Tower penthouse required a keycard. She didn't have one, but she didn't care. She rode up to the highest floor she could access and found Elias Vaughn waiting by a door marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

He raised an eyebrow.

"You're a little off-course, Mrs. Sinclair."

"I want answers."

"Wrong floor for that."

She crossed her arms. "You gave me that folder."

"I didn't."

He stepped closer, voice low. "But if you were given it, maybe someone wanted you to start asking questions."

"Like who Isabelle Laurent is?"

Elias's expression didn't change, but she saw something flicker in his eyes.

"She was Lucas's fiancée. Disappeared three years ago. No ransom. No remains. No explanation."

"She looks like me."

"Exactly like you."

"Was she... murdered?"

Elias tilted his head, studying her.

"That's what the world thinks. But Draven never declared her dead. Never moved on. Until you."

Ava swallowed hard. "So I'm a stand-in."

"Or bait."

The hallway darkened as the lights overhead dimmed slightly.

Elias turned away. "Go back to your apartment. Stop digging."

She didn't move. "Why won't he just tell me the truth?"

Elias looked over his shoulder, expression unreadable.

"Because the last person who dug too deep vanished without a trace."

---

That night, Ava couldn't sleep. Her mind spun in circles.

Was she really here to protect Lily? Or was she a pawn in something bigger-something dangerous?

Around 2 a.m., she stepped out onto the balcony for air. The city below looked peaceful in the dark, but her skin prickled.

She wasn't alone.

She turned. Across the rooftop, in the shadow of a glass wall, stood a figure.

A woman.

Same height. Same hair.

Ava's heart leapt into her throat. "Hello?" she called.

The woman didn't move.

Ava stepped forward. "Who are you?"

Wind whipped her hair across her face. She pushed it aside-and the figure was gone.

Just... gone.

No door had opened. No sound. Nothing.

She ran across the rooftop, checked every corner.

Empty.

She backed away, chest heaving.

Had she imagined it? A trick of light?

Or was it... Isabelle?

---

The next morning, Harper burst in without knocking.

"Change of plans. Draven wants you at the office."

"I'm not ready for press," Ava said.

"This isn't press." Harper's voice was sharp. "This is him."

---

Draven International occupied an entire skyscraper in Midtown. Ava was escorted through a private entrance, past silent assistants and mirrored walls, into a glass-walled office that looked more like a war room than a workplace.

Lucas stood at the head of a long table. He was flanked by three board members, a lawyer, and a woman in a red suit who looked like she hadn't smiled in a decade.

Ava walked in and immediately felt their eyes on her.

"She's late," Red Suit said.

"She's not your employee," Lucas replied calmly.

He waved a hand, and the others left.

Once they were alone, he walked toward her, gaze hard.

"Why did you go into my files?"

"I didn't-"

"You accessed information about Isabelle."

"I found a folder. Someone left it at my door."

Lucas studied her face. "Then someone wants you dead."

The air thinned around her.

"I deserve to know," she said, voice shaking. "You're marrying me. You're using me. At least tell me what the hell I'm being used for."

Lucas's face changed-just a fraction. Something cracked behind his carefully constructed mask.

"Isabelle didn't disappear. She ran."

"Why?"

"Because she found out a secret. One that got people killed."

Ava felt like she was falling, one floor at a time.

"What kind of secret?"

Lucas stepped closer. He didn't touch her-but she felt his heat.

"Ava," he said quietly. "If you ask the wrong question, someone will answer it with a bullet."

She met his gaze. "Why do I look like her?"

His jaw clenched.

"Because you are her sister."