2. A New Skin, A New War

Daylight filtered through the hospital room blinds, drawing pale lines across the crisp white sheets. Jassy—no, Alys now—kept her eyes open in silence. She had been lying like that for several minutes, motionless. Everything still felt blurry, like a dream with edges you can't quite grasp.

But this wasn't a dream.

She was very much alive. In a body that wasn't hers. A foreign life she only remembered in fragments—but which would now become her shield.

A whisper echoed in her mind: "You came back for revenge."

She slowly curled her fingers, testing the strength of her new hands. More slender, more refined, but firm. Everything about this woman radiated wealth, power, control. Alys Delcourt had never been a victim. And yet… someone had tried to eliminate her. The car had crashed straight into a tree at full speed. Surely, an investigation had been launched.

But why did that memory of someone shouting "Too late, Alys!" still echo so vividly?

She knew she had to figure things out fast—who this body belonged to, who her allies were… and most importantly, her enemies.

A sound at the door pulled her from her thoughts. A man entered. Tall, dark-haired, well-dressed. He looked to be in his early forties, carrying himself with confidence. His suit fit him perfectly. His watch glinted under the hospital lights. He looked relieved.

— "Alys… Thank God, you're awake."

He walked up to her without hesitation and laid a hand on hers. She tensed.

He noticed, but forced a smile.

— "I came as soon as I heard… I'm so sorry. We were all worried."

Jassy stared at him with cold eyes. He played the role well, but something about him rang false. Too perfect. Too calculated. Her instinct—sharpened by years of surviving hell—whispered: don't trust him.

— "And you are…?" she asked softly, her voice weak but deliberate.

The man visibly flinched. A flicker of hesitation crossed his face—barely perceptible.

— "It's normal for you to be confused… You just woke up. I'm your fiancé. Raphael."

Fiancé?

She clenched her jaw silently. A fiancé… Intimate, and therefore dangerous. She nodded slowly, pretending to accept the information. But deep inside, a flame flickered to life. She would have to play along—for now.

— "Thank you for coming. I… everything feels so foggy."

She paused, feigning vulnerability. "It was an accident, right?"

Raphael nodded solemnly.

— "Yes. You were driving alone. The driver was out sick, so you decided to go yourself… There was a brake failure. You hit a tree. You're lucky to be alive."

But Jassy heard something else in his voice. A shadow. As if he had rehearsed this story one too many times.

— "And the police? Did they find anything?" she asked with innocent curiosity.

— "No. Nothing. Just a tragic accident."

A lie.

She could feel it.

When he finally left the room twenty minutes later—after placing a dry, emotionless kiss on her forehead—Jassy took a long breath. There had been no love in his eyes. No true concern. Only fear. Fear that she remembered something. And that, she realized, was a weapon she could use.

---

When the nurse returned, Jassy greeted her with a gentle smile.

— "Could you bring me a mirror, please? And… if they recovered my phone, I'd like that too."

The mirror was the first shock.

Alys Delcourt's face was stunning. Perfectly shaped, soft lips, high cheekbones, piercing hazel eyes. She looked like a woman in control—independent and untouchable. Nothing like the Jassy of before: gaunt, worn out by years of abuse.

She shivered. This face would now be hers. This mask… her weapon.

The phone was more complicated. It was locked, of course. But after a few minutes of observation, her fingers instinctively typed in four digits: 0621. A date. Perhaps a memory from Alys's life. Or maybe a sign from fate.

The phone unlocked.

And with it, a flood of messages, photos, and emails.

Names appeared again and again: Raphael, of course. But also Lina Delcourt, an authoritative aunt, Julian, a lawyer cousin. And above all… Elisa, Alys's best friend, with a barrage of panicked texts.

But what stole Jassy's breath was a message that had been deleted—restored from the archive:

> "You shouldn't marry him. You know exactly what he did to your sister."

A chill swept down her spine.

Raphael was connected to Alys's sister's disappearance?

Everything was still unclear, but a fierce instinct surged through her: she would uncover the truth. And she would make every one of them fall, one by one.

---

When the doctor came by at the end of the day to check on her condition, she played the part perfectly.

Smiling. Fragile. Amnesiac, but sweet.

But deep in her eyes, a cold fire burned. Jassy was no longer the trembling woman they had left to die.

She was the survivor. The infiltrator. The imposter.

And no one—absolutely no one—could guess what she was about to unleash.