Chapter 1: The Possession

It was late at night, and Emma Pierce was behind the wheel of her car, speeding down a recently opened highway. The cool wind blew through the fully lowered windows as she pushed the speedometer past 60 miles per hour. The road was empty, a perfect opportunity to let go of her usual poised and polished demeanor—the one she maintained as the CEO of a tech company and the image of perfection she upheld around family and friends. Tonight, she was just Emma, a woman who had loved fast cars and late-night drives since she was eighteen.

The wind from the nearby Hudson River was strong, causing her SUV to sway slightly. Emma felt a surge of freedom and exhilaration coursing through her veins.

The moment of bliss was short-lived. As she drove through the gates of her suburban neighborhood, a young security guard saluted her in a manner that was both professional and slightly overzealous. Emma acknowledged him with a nod, her face expressionless, as she pulled into her garage.

She pushed the car door open, extending her leg outward with the practiced grace of someone who knew how to make an impression, even when no one was watching. The art of gracefully exiting an SUV was something Emma had perfected over the years, a reflection of the discipline she maintained in every aspect of her life.

A sudden noise startled her. The garage door, which had been opening, suddenly began to close. Before she could react, a hand clamped over her mouth from behind.

It all happened so fast. Emma had never given much thought to how she might die, and this seemed absurdly trivial. The first stab plunged into her abdomen, sending waves of unbearable pain through her body. Her last thought before blacking out was the irrational worry that the wound would be visible in a swimsuit.

The sound of sirens—was it an ambulance?—pulled her back from the brink of unconsciousness. Emma fought to open her eyes, trying to make sense of her surroundings. She realized she was lying on a narrow stretcher in what looked like an ambulance. Her clothes were torn, her body a mess of blood and bruises, and the faces of the paramedics around her were blurred, indistinct.

Wait. Why was she seeing them from above? What was going on?

A wave of cold washed over her—not fear, but a bone-chilling cold that made her teeth chatter and her heart constrict. Was this it? Was she dying? Was this what people meant by an out-of-body experience?

No. She couldn't die. Not like this. Not now.

Everything went black.

When Emma came to, it wasn't in the familiar surroundings of a hospital bed, nor was it the sterile whiteness she expected. The room was dimly lit, and her body felt strange, foreign. She tried to move but found her limbs sluggish and unresponsive. The ceiling above her looked different, unfamiliar. Where was she?

Two blurry figures appeared in her line of sight, leaning in far too close for her comfort. Emma recoiled internally, feeling a surge of irritation. One of them, an older man, was crying—sobbing, really—as if he knew her. The other figure, a woman, seemed equally distraught.

Emma's mind raced. What was happening? Who were these people?

As consciousness returned fully, she realized something was very wrong. Her body felt different—there was no pain in her abdomen, no bandages where the knife had struck. Instead, her head throbbed, and her neck was in a brace.

She pressed the call button, and within seconds, a nurse entered. The nurse's name tag read "Alice."

"Emily, you're awake! How are you feeling? Don't worry, I'll get the doctor," Alice said as she checked the monitors.

Emily? Who the hell was Emily?

The doctors and nurses bustled around her, discussing her condition in hushed tones. One of them—a doctor, perhaps—remarked in awe, "It's a miracle. The brain damage was extensive, and yet, she's recovering so quickly. It's almost unbelievable."

Emma felt a growing sense of dread as the pieces began to fall into place. This wasn't her body. Her name wasn't Emily. Somehow, she had ended up in someone else's body.

No. This couldn't be happening. Emma Pierce was not dead. This had to be a dream, a nightmare she would wake up from any moment.

But as the hours dragged on, it became clear that this was her new reality. And she would have to figure out why—why this had happened to her, and who had wanted her dead.