THE MASSION OF MIRRORS

The Moreau estate was like a palace carved into a hillside—marble floors, golden chandeliers, a fountain in the shape of phoenix wings rising in the courtyard. The kind of place Nova had only seen in magazines, now called her home.

She stepped inside the massive front hall and was instantly surrounded by strangers in tears.

"Oh, my sweet girl," said a woman with trembling hands and fading perfume—Madame Elise Moreau, her so-called mother. "You've grown into such a beautiful woman…"

Nova forced a smile and let herself be pulled into the embrace, her arms moving stiffly, like they didn't belong to her.

She kept waiting to feel something.

Some flicker of memory.

Some warmth.

But there was only… silence.

Later That Night

Nova stood before a grand vanity in her new room. The mirrors reflected back a version of her she barely recognized—hair styled, lips tinted, wrapped in velvet like royalty.

This was supposed to be her life now.

But in her head… she kept seeing flashes of something else.

Gunshots. Flames. A name—Leon.

But the memories were slippery. Every time she tried to hold on to them, they vanished like smoke.

She splashed cold water on her face, trying to clear her head.

Downstairs

Elise and Jean sat with Rhea in the study, pouring wine and asking quiet questions.

"She doesn't remember much," Rhea explained smoothly. "She was traumatized. I found her in a private clinic recovering from injuries. She had no ID, no name… just the face. And when I saw the news, it all made sense."

Jean nodded slowly. "I don't care what she remembers. I'm just glad she's alive."

But Elise hesitated, swirling her wine. "And if she's not?"

Rhea's smile didn't flicker. "She is."

Elise said nothing more—but her eyes didn't leave Rhea for a second.

Upstairs

Nova sat on the edge of the bed, staring out the window into the dark gardens below.

She was rich now.

Safe.

Worshipped.

But in the corners of her mind, a voice kept whispering…

"You don't belong here."

And she didn't know why.