The Job
Two weeks earlier, Amira had been approached by a reclusive billionaire. She met him in a shadowy corner of a private lounge on the fifty-seventh floor of an anonymous high-rise. His voice had a rasp, as if sandpaper had taken residence in his throat. He had handed her an envelope containing $2 million in unmarked bills and a single instruction:
“Find her. Before she finds you.”
Amira wasn’t new to espionage. She was a private operative with a reputation for excellence. But this assignment felt different. It wasn’t the sum of money—though it was generous—it was the peculiar urgency in her client’s eyes, the flicker of fear that even his wealth couldn’t mask.
Inside the envelope, there had been a single photo. It showed a woman walking confidently down a bustling city street. The woman had been dressed in a sleek black coat layered over a stylish grey cowl-neck sweater, paired with black leather pants. At first glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary—that is, until Amira noticed the woman’s face.
It was her own.
The Shadow of Herself
The lead had taken her here. Her “target” had last been seen frequenting this stretch of the city. Amira entered a towering boutique hotel, the kind of place that charged more for a night than most people made in a month. Her sleek outfit made her look like she belonged, but her pulse gave her away—fast, relentless, panicked.
A man in a pressed suit greeted her at the elevator. His face was statuesque but utterly forgettable. “Miss Elson,” he said, his voice calm and assured. “She’s waiting for you on the top floor.”
Her heart sank. “Who’s she?” Amira asked, her voice coming out sharper than intended.
The man gave her an unreadable smile. “You’ll see.”
As the elevator ascended, Amira could feel each floor like the tolling of a bell. By the time the doors opened, her palms were slick with sweat despite the chill radiating from the hotel’s polished marble walls. She stepped into the penthouse, inhaling sharply. The room was bathed in amber light. Floor-to-ceiling windows afforded a sweeping view of the labyrinthine city below.
And there, standing by the window, was the woman from the photo. Her back was turned, her black coat cascading down in elegant folds. Slowly, she turned.
It was her. But not her. The woman’s face was identical to Amira’s, yet there was a coldness in her expression that sent a shiver racing down her spine.
A Mirror, Cracked
“You’ve come,” the other Amira said, her voice smooth and melodic, yet tinged with malice.
“Who are you?” Amira demanded, her hand brushing against the small blade tucked into her coat pocket.
“You already know, don’t you?” Her doppelgänger moved closer, each calculated step stirring unease. “Have you never wondered about that missing time? The gaps in your memory?”
Amira froze. It was true she had memories that felt fractured, like pieces of glass swept away into the void. She clenched her jaw. “What do you want from me?”
“I don’t want anything,” the woman replied, her lips curling into a venomous smile. “But you are about to want everything back.”
In the next second, the other Amira lunged, her hands moving unnaturally fast. Amira barely had time to duck before a blade—identical to her own—sliced through the space where her neck had been.
The two women danced in a deadly ballet. Blade met blade, the sound of metal splitting the air. Amira’s heart hammered as she fought, but the horrifying reality sank in with each passing second—this woman wasn’t just her reflection. She was better. Stronger. It was like fighting a shadow that anticipated her every move.
The Twist
With a final, desperate twist, Amira broke free from the fight and ran toward the nearest display case. She reached for the artifact she’d noticed earlier—an antique mirror with intricate carvings around its gilded edge. Just as her doppelgänger closed in, Amira pointed the glass toward her enemy.
A blood-curdling scream ripped through the penthouse as the dark Amira’s reflection twisted and warped into splinters of light. Her body convulsed and then disintegrated into the air, leaving only a faint vapor behind.
Amira collapsed to her knees, gasping for breath. But just as she thought it was over, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. For a split second, her own reflection smiled back at her—despite her lips remaining still.
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