Buried Echoes

and through my sleek black hair, my fingers brushing against the scar on my jawline, a reminder of the past, a symbol of everything I've lost. My body is stronger now, refined

ake my way toward the group gathered near the grand piano, men in tailored suits, and women draped in diamonds. Among them, is him. The man responsible for Mia's death. The President. A senator approaches me first, flashing a charming grin. "You're the one everyone's been talking about," he says, offering a hand. "Diana Ivanovo, isn't it?" Accepting his handshake with a polite smile. "Guilty as charged." Then, I feel it. The shift in the air. A predator sensing another in the room. The president turns at the sound of my voice, his gaze settling on me with reserved intrigue. He doesn't know me, not truly. But he studies me like he should. Like something about me unsettles him Good. Let the unease settle in his gut, let the whispers of suspicion creep at the edges of his mind. It won't matter. By the time he figures out why, the damage will be done Then, just as quickly, his expression smooths into a broad, practiced smile. "If it isn't the famous Miss Ivanova," he drawls, his voice warm, inviting-too inviting. The kind of voice that has fooled a nation. But not me. "It's finally good to see you" I say, extending my hands my voice steeped in feigned warmth-so seamless it could almost pass for genuine. The president clasps my hand in his, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he returns my smile, oblivious to the venom laced beneath it. "I can't thank you enough for your donations and contributions over the years, your generosity has done wonders for this country. The schools, the hospitals your donations have changed lives." He says, his tone brimming with gratitude. "I just believe in making my homeland a better place for the people, if I can help in any way, I will." I reply smoothly, twirling my glass of wine between my fingers. My smile is poised, effortless. The picture of grace and elegant He studies me for a long moment, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "you're quite the enigma, Miss Ivanova" You know nothing. I tilt my head, feigning amusement. "Am I?" "In few years you've built something remarkable, it's admirable" There is no malice in his tone. No suspicion. Just genuine admiration. He doesn't see the knife hidden beneath the silk. He doesn't realize that the woman standing before him, smiling so graciously, is the same woman who has spent years sharpening her blade in the dark, waiting for the perfect moment to drive it through his world. He sees me as an asset Not a threat. I let my expression soften, playing the part perfectly. "That means a lot coming from you, sir." He nodded. "We need more people like you. People with vision, you know you remind me of myself when I was younger," the President continued, swirling the dark amber liquid in his glass. "Strategic and ambitious you and my son are so much alike" Son. I wonder which one "Oh really?" I ask feigning interest "He's done well for himself," the President continues, unaware of the silent storm brewing inside me. "Sharp-minded. Tactical. Just like you. How I wish he didn't choose to hide himself away, he knows how to move in the shadows, how to avoid the vultures, I would have introduced you to him, you two will make a perfect match." For a moment, the entire room fades. The laughter, the chatter, the soft notes of the grand piano in the corner-all of it fades into a murmur. He is talking about him. The ghost I let out a soft, amused hum. "Oh? But isn't your son already married?" The shift is immediate. His smile falters-