THE BORROWED LIFE

s she stared at the classified document spread out in front of her. The name Victor Hale glared from the page, printed in bold underlined red - an omen that made her stomach twist. Eve

s. The leak sounded serious - sabotage at the highest level - and it was somehow connected to Hale. Juniper's heart hammered; her breaths came shallow. "Who is he?" she whispered to herself. The office was s

bit her lip, willing her mind to focus. She pictured the delicate petals of roses she tended back home, trying to anchor herself in something familiar. But this was no florist's shop, and Selene's

fied files had to go somewhere safe. Carefully, she saved a copy of the data onto Selene's secure drive. She had to keep this info private: if security found out she had these files, they'd be all over her like sharks smelling blood. The whir of the laptop cool

s if she were looking in a mirror from a stranger's life. "I have to figure this out," Juniper told the reflection. Her own voice sounded distant under the veneer

as she is, she thought, tension knotting her shoulders. Still, outwardly she straightened, smoothed her blazer, and walke

. Someone underlined in digital red the phrase "must alert Hale immediately." Juniper's pulse accelerated. These hints painted Hale as a puppet master or a watchdog. The files seemed hurriedl

orist instincts flared: something was very wrong here. She imagined delicate stems crushed underfoot;

. It was after midnight, which made the ping feel almost eerie. With shaking fingers, she opened it. The sender was unfamiliar, only an address: V.Hale@***

at he had her email address - or Selene's, she corrected herself - meant he was either a powerful figure or someone staking ground. Her skin tin

ene

ut the leak and Arcturus. I know you are not who you think. Meet me at

.Ha

wn spot in the city, at this hour a lonely, chilly place. "No security cameras," he demanded. That line made Juniper's blood run cold. Hale knew enough about Selene's world to

shaky - "I know you are not who you think." How could he? That line felt like a knife. Did he know about the life-swap? Or was he just blowing smoke, a power move? Ther

leek-looking man with steel-gray hair and thin-framed glasses appeared: "Victor Hale, Consultant" was the caption. Consultant to who? The photograph had a date stamp from five years ago at a tech conference. He smiled confidently at the camera. The captio

omeone was leaking him emails to her. Either someone was setting her up, or someone was reaching out to le

trying to hold up Selene's flawless mask. She hadn't sent anything; the invitation came out of nowhere. He thought she knew more than she did. Or at least, he

had to know what this was about. She needed to see Victor Hale face to face, though her heart hammered at the thought of that. Maybe if he

hearsed how to answer. She forced herself to breathe slowly, deepest breaths she could muster. S

rescheduled to tomorrow morning at 11. I need to catch

: a single-line text, "Understood, Ms. Voss. Will do." It wasn't enough for suspicion, Ju

Cerulean Biotech. A fragment of a scanned report described an advanced neurological procedure, costing tens of millions, called "Arcturus Protocol." Another spreadsheet had a name missing a first name: J. Wren, with details that fit her old life as a florist -

es? The screen swam slightly as one possible explanation occurred to her: Could Project Arcturus be connected to the life-swapping program itself? A shiver ran through her. Everything - Selene's swift introduction, her presence here in this body -

She realized how exposed she felt: alone in this office, with pieces of a mystery she didn't fully u

Juniper knew one thing: she was going to the Crescent Bridge. She couldn't not. Every impossible risk converged: me

iper's heart pounded. After stealing a glance at the office clock - 1:45 AM - she grabbed her coat from the back

itical errand

or of the office, like Selene

for the whir of the HVAC. Security cameras tracked her on every floor, but the thought of Hale's line "no cameras" echoed in her mind. Could she av

fe meeting, one more chance to unlock a secret. She told herself to be Selene: calm,

epped out. The night security guard gave a casual nod - too casual. Juniper quickened her pace, sudden urgency fueling her steps. Under the stone arch out

ecked the time on her phone again: 2:02 AM. Hale was late. She glanced around. The cement desolation felt heavier than the cold. On

he figure asked,

ed those thin-framed glasses from the photo on the screen. It had to be him. Victor Hale's eyes were sharper than in the photograph, wary and

ice was measured, almost gentle, but every fiber of Juniper screamed to run. Between them on

g, Hale waved his hand as if to pause her. "Don't open

d with a sick flutter in her chest: He knows I'm not Voss. The tilt of his head, the look in his

retched long behind her. "Project Arcturus," he began slowly, eyes locked on hers, "is bigger

line between potential ally or cunning foe twisted tighter. She swallowed and manage

been the Apocalypse. Hale tilted his head toward the envelope on the ground as a silhouette of a car pulled over onto the

l night breeze, time seemed to slow. Whatever

ly a second before she parted the envelope, feeling suddenly that she was fin