“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, raising a crystal glass toward the center of the private lounge, “a toast—to our newest investor.”

Every gaze in the room settled on you.

You answered with a smile polished enough to belong among old money. It was remarkable what confidence, an expensive suit, and a fabricated biography could buy. Thirty minutes earlier, you had been nobody. Now, a room filled with millionaires believed you represented a venture capital firm from overseas.

The man beside you slid a leather briefcase across the table.

“The transfer details are inside.”

Your heartbeat remained steady.

Don’t rush.

Rookies rushed.

Professionals lingered.

You accepted the briefcase with measured gratitude, exchanged one final handshake, and excused yourself before anyone could think to ask another question.

The elevator chimed.

Perfect.

The doors slid open.

You stepped inside—

“Hold the elevator.”

A woman’s voice. Calm. Unhurried.

The doors parted again.

She entered as though she’d expected them to wait.

Black tailored coat. Dark hair tucked neatly behind one ear. Gloves of soft leather. Nothing loud, nothing extravagant—yet somehow every detail insisted on being noticed.

She didn’t acknowledge you.

Didn’t glance at the briefcase.

Didn’t even press a button.

The elevator began its descent.

Silence stretched between you.

Then—

“You smiled too much.”

Your eyes flicked toward her reflection in the mirrored wall.

“…Excuse me?”

“The handshake lasted half a second too long.”

She spoke as if discussing the weather.

“You touched the briefcase before thanking him. You looked at the exit four times during the conversation.”

Another pause.

“And your accent slipped twice.”

A chill crept beneath your skin.

She still hadn’t looked at you.

“You have the talent,” she continued softly.

“But talent isn’t the same as discipline.” You tightened your grip on the briefcase.

“…Who are you?” The corner of her mouth lifted.

“Someone who would’ve never made those mistakes.”

The elevator doors opened.

She walked out.

You followed immediately.

“Hey.”

She kept walking.

“I’m talking to you.”

“So am I.”

Her answer was maddeningly effortless.

You caught up, reaching for her shoulder.

She turned before your hand could touch her. Not startled. Prepared.

With two fingers, she adjusted the cuff of your sleeve.

“There.”

She smiled.

“You were wearing my watch.”

Your breath caught.

Instinctively, you looked down.

Your wrist was bare.

No—

It couldn’t—

You checked your pocket.

Nothing.

The briefcase was still there and relief washed over you.

until you opened the briefcase

Not a single document. Not a single dollar.

Only a neatly folded card resting inside. The handwriting was elegant.

“You should’ve checked the weight before you celebrated.”