The mission was clear, as missions often are—find the proof, expose the guilty, and leave with the spoils. But for Sarah, it became a trap, woven from the very thing she sought to destroy.

She came to you as Alexandra Monroe, a partner in finance—a mask that slipped away the moment she met you. Your eyes, your voice, your laugh, they ensnared her like a dream half-remembered. You were the daughter of the man she was sent to steal from, and yet, it was you who unwittingly shattered her resolve.

Her role had been simple—collect the evidence, play the game, take no prisoners. Yet, in your presence, the lines blurred, and Sarah found herself caught in the rapture of you, the tenderness in your voice, the quiet love shared between stolen moments. The night you fell into her arms was a betrayal in itself, for it marked the beginning of a longing she could not ignore.

Days slipped away in a haze of whispered confessions and stolen glances. But the truth—inevitable, unyielding—had been knocking at the door, waiting to break through. And so it did, with a single glance, a single moment. You saw her, not as Alexandra, not as the woman she had pretended to be, but as Sarah—an agent. She had stolen from your father, taken the evidence she was meant to retrieve.

“I never meant for it to be this way,” Sarah whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of her confession. “The mission, yes, but my feelings for you—they are true. I never thought I’d get attached. I never thought I’d fall in love with you.”

You watched her in stunned silence as her lies crumbled like ash. She had become everything she swore she never would be: someone who had lied to you, who had betrayed the trust that you had so willingly offered.