That night, Mr. Thomas Oak had said something that still rang in my ears.
"I removed the original passed candidate before the results were declared. With the help of Mr. Haeson Kim—the HR Manager of Velvéra. Luck was on our side. Another candidate, also named Caroline Garnier, had participated. An orphan from Giverny. Perfect match.
I bribed Kim. Then today... I killed and erased the real Caroline, along with all evidence.
These are her mobile and laptop—take them. If anyone calls, pretend to be her."
That was my father's voice.
That was the life he gave me.
And yet…
"Shall I introduce her to the sensitive information, since she submitted the agreement?"
Mr. Kim had asked David in front of me.
"No. I don't think you should," that bastard replied coldly.
"She'll be under my surveillance for a few months. Agreement or not," he smirked.
I clenched my fists.
Did he suspect me? Or… was he just playing with me?
"Fine, sir," Haeson replied with a nervous smile, sweat already forming at his collar.
"I'll take her now to introduce her to the staff."
David nodded, dismissing us.
Haeson Kim walked me through the different departments—starting with HR and Finance. The office was enormous, buzzing with activity. No wonder—it was the largest fashion conglomerate in Europe. Velvéra had branches in Italy, France, Germany, Spain, Romania, Vietnam, Indonesia, India, Korea, New York, and California.
I was introduced to dozens of employees, shown workflows, schedules, systems—but not a single piece of sensitive intel. Not one.
By evening, I was drained—physically and emotionally.
"You may leave now," David said, seated at his sleek desk.
"Today was your first day. Mr. Kim must've shared my schedule with you, yes?"
"Yes, sir."
"Fine. You're dismissed."
I nodded and left.
A small relief washed over me—I had survived. The fake identity held up. I was still alive.
By the time I reached home, it was dark.
But I was shocked to see Nancy sitting outside the apartment building, hugging her knees.
"Waiting for me, dear?" I asked softly.
She ran to me and wrapped her arms around my legs—she was still so tiny.
"Where were you, sister Ari? Sob… sob… You told me you'd be back in the evening! You liar…!"
"Oh, dear… I'm so sorry…"
She kept crying as I picked her up on my back. By the time we reached the door, she had already fallen asleep on me. I gently tucked her into bed.
Dad returned, his voice unusually cheerful.
"I'm home, children!"
But Nancy was asleep.
I continued preparing dinner, not feeling like responding to his fake energy.
"All fine today," I mumbled to myself.
After a shower, he sat at the dining table.
"Where's Nancy?" he asked.
"Asleep."
"Without dinner?"
"Yeah."
Then, finally, the question I expected.
"How was your first day, Ariadne?"
"Fine. But exhausting."
"I meant—did he share anything useful?"
"Nope. That bastard David Charlotte stopped Kim from telling me anything. Even when I asked Kim privately, he refused. Said he'd need more money."
Dad sighed, brushing his hair back.
"I already bribed him to delete the real Caroline's photo and records. But when I asked for more intel, he demanded monthly payments—equal or more than what I gave him already."
"And?"
"I refused. He threatened to expose you next month. I warned him—if he does that, he'll be the first to go down. He hung up after that."
Then he added something more disturbing.
"I'll be sending my success report to the organisation soon. In it, I'll state that: 'The real Caroline helped me with financial details, then I eliminated her.' That's our alibi."
"Right..."
"Oh—and I got a call today from the landlord of her old place, asking for rent. I paid from my account and told them I had to urgently shift her out. They seemed fine with it."
"Good," he said with a small nod.
Dinner was almost ready. I set the table and went to call Nancy.
But her bed was empty.
"Dad?" I called nervously. "Nancy… she's not here."
Panic surged.
We searched the rooms—the washroom, closets, even under the bed.
Gone.
"What happened?" he asked, now alarmed.
"She's missing."
I rushed back to her window—and then I saw it.
Down on the street, a long black car. On the driver's seat sat a tall woman, with broad glasses, a black hat, open-buttoned suit, red tie, and a tight black skirt.
Behind her, on the back seat—Nancy, smiling cheerfully.
My heart stopped.
It was her—Agent Crimson Night of Black Vane.
I opened my mouth to scream, to yell Nancy's name—but then a flash of dread hit me.
If I shout, they'll know I'm alive.
Instead, I whispered urgently, "Dad! Dad! Look—here!"
He ran to the window, eyes narrowing as he spotted the car.
The vehicle pulled away.
"Sorry… You understand why I didn't make a move, Mr. Thomas," I muttered.
"Fine. Let's chase her now!