Arabella couldn't sleep.
The glow of the moon filtered through the glass panels of her bedroom, casting long silver shadows across the white tiled floor. She sat on the edge of her bed, her arms wrapped around her knees, her heart pounding like a silent drum. The quiet hum of the air conditioner was the only sound that filled the room, but her mind was far from quiet.
Everything was moving too fast.
Damian was beginning to look at her differently, with a gaze that lingered too long, a tone that grew too soft. His eyes saw too much. She could feel it—he was beginning to suspect. And that terrified her more than anything.
She was supposed to be invisible. A ghost from a past life. But now, it felt like her mask was slipping.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, vibrating against the wood.
It was a message from Elina.
> Elina: Can't sleep either. Want to talk?
Arabella typed back quickly.
> Arabella: Come over.
Less than ten minutes later, Elina was curled beside her on the bed, her long curls tied into a messy bun, wearing fluffy slippers and an oversized hoodie.
"I knew something was bothering you," Elina said softly, her voice laced with concern. "You've been quiet all day."
Arabella let out a shaky breath. "He's getting too close, Elina."
"Elina" meant safety. Meant someone who knew her—all of her—and wouldn't flinch. She didn't need to pretend with Elina. Didn't need to hide behind Arabella's calm mask.
"Damian?" Elina asked, though she already knew the answer.
Arabella nodded. "He keeps asking questions. Looking at me like… like he's trying to figure me out. It's not just casual interest anymore. He's digging."
Elina was silent for a moment, then she reached over and took Arabella's hand in hers. "You're not alone in this, Ara. You're not going to fall apart. We've come too far. We didn't fake your death, disappear, and build a new life just for everything to crumble now."
"I know." Arabella's voice was a whisper. "But I didn't expect to still feel… anything. Seeing him again. Being around him. It's messing with my head. I don't know if I can handle it."
"You can." Elina's grip tightened. "You've already handled worse. You survived betrayal, heartbreak, and almost died, Arabella. Compared to that, this is just a storm. And you? You're the lightning."
Arabella laughed softly, though tears burned in her eyes. "That was dramatic."
"I'm dramatic," Elina smirked. "You're just stubborn. But that stubbornness is going to save you."
Arabella leaned into her best friend's shoulder, grateful for her presence. "What if he finds out? What if he learns the truth?"
"Then we deal with it," Elina said firmly. "But not a moment before. For now, stick to the plan. Stay composed. Let him chase. Don't give him answers."
Arabella closed her eyes, grounding herself in Elina's words.
She had come too far to lose now.
---
The next morning, Arabella dressed carefully.
She chose a soft cream blouse tucked into a sleek navy pencil skirt, pairing it with nude heels and minimal makeup. Her hair flowed in soft waves, and she kept her expression neutral as she stepped into the company elevator. She had a meeting with Damian and several board members regarding an international expansion plan. It was a critical presentation—and one she had been preparing for all week.
But the moment she walked into the meeting room and saw him—tall, sharp-suited, and unreadable—her pulse jumped.
Damian looked up from the file in his hands. His eyes swept over her face before lowering to her form. "You're early."
"So are you," she replied calmly, taking her seat at the opposite end of the long glass table.
One by one, the board members trickled in, followed by Mr. Carson, the chief of strategy, and two junior analysts. Arabella kept her posture straight and her mind sharp. This wasn't the time to let emotion interfere.
When it was her turn to present, she stood confidently, clicking the remote that activated the screen.
She spoke with clarity, using precise data and market insights to support her points. She noticed Damian watching her—not just the presentation, but her—as if he were dissecting every word and expression. It was unnerving, but she didn't flinch.
When she finished, there was a beat of silence.
Then Mr. Carson applauded. "Excellent breakdown, Miss Arabella. That was sharp and well-detailed. Very impressive."
Several other members nodded in agreement.
Damian didn't say anything right away. He closed the file in front of him and folded his hands, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Where did you learn to analyze market structures with that level of precision?" he asked finally.
Arabella blinked once. The question was casual enough—but the intent behind it wasn't.
"I studied international economics during my MBA," she replied smoothly. "My thesis was on strategic global entry in saturated markets."
He leaned back in his chair. "Which school?"
"Geneva School of Business."
A pause. Then he nodded.
But Arabella knew what he was doing. He was peeling back layers. Testing her. Trying to catch a crack in her story.
She met his gaze head-on.
Don't flinch.
Don't blink.
---
After the meeting, she returned to her office. She had just sat down when the door opened without a knock.
It was him.
Damian.
Arabella kept her expression neutral as he closed the door behind him.
"That was an impressive presentation," he said, his voice casual.
"Thank you," she said, glancing at her laptop.
"But it raised more questions than it answered."
She looked up, frowning slightly. "About the market strategy?"
"No," he said, stepping closer. "About you."
Arabella stiffened inwardly. "I don't follow."
"You're incredibly skilled. Your resume is perfect. But there's something about you that doesn't quite fit." He leaned against the desk across from hers. "You remind me of someone."
Danger.
Arabella straightened slowly. "Many people resemble others. It's not uncommon."
"Maybe. But your eyes…" he paused, tilting his head. "They look just like hers."
Arabella's throat tightened. "Like who's?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he walked toward the window and looked out.
"A woman I knew. A long time ago. She died… or at least, I thought she did."
Silence fell between them.
Arabella stood slowly, her hands clenched at her sides.
"I think you're mistaken," she said calmly. "I'm Arabella Evans. I have no connection to your past."
Damian turned to face her. "Is that so?"
His tone was unreadable. His eyes searched hers.
Arabella didn't blink. "Yes."
He stepped closer, his voice a whisper now. "I'll find out the truth eventually."
Her jaw tightened. "I'm not hiding anything."
A beat.
Then, Damian turned and walked away, his footsteps quiet against the floor.
He didn't look back.
When the door clicked shut, Arabella finally exhaled, her heart hammering in her chest.
---
Later that night, Elina found her in her apartment, pacing restlessly.
"He suspects something," Arabella said, her voice hoarse. "He knows I remind him of Isabella. He said it directly."
Elina's expression darkened. "We knew this might happen. We prepared for it."
"I don't know how much longer I can do this," Arabella whispered. "Every time he looks at me like that, it's like he's seeing through everything."
Elina crossed her arms. "Then maybe it's time to take control."
Arabella looked up, startled. "What do you mean?"
"I mean stop letting him chase. Turn the game around. Distract him. Make him fall harder, faster. The deeper he falls, the less clearly he'll see."
"I'm not trying to seduce him," Arabella snapped.
"No. But maybe it's time he thinks you are."
Arabella was silent.
Could she really play that game? Use the heart he once shattered against him?
Elina leaned in. "You don't have to love him again. But you can make him want you. Let that cloud his judgment."
Arabella's chest tightened.
She wasn't sure if she was capable of doing that. Not when every interaction with him left her raw and exposed.
But Elina wasn't wrong. Arabella couldn't afford to be on the defensive forever. It was time she took control of the board.
"Fine," she said finally. "Let's play."
---
The next day, Arabella walked into the office with her head high and her stride deliberate. She wore a sleek black dress that hugged her figure and made no apologies. Her hair was pinned into a graceful twist, and her makeup was flawless.
She saw the way people looked at her—the subtle double takes, the admiring glances.
But it was Damian's reaction she was waiting for.
He was already in his office when she walked past the glass wall. He looked up, and their eyes met.
For a split second, he froze.
Then, he stood up.
Arabella smirked slightly and kept walking.
She didn't need to look back to know he was watching.
She could feel the burn of his stare on her back.
And for the first time since her rebirth, Arabella didn't feel like the hunted.
She felt like the hunter.
And she was just getting started.