The train from Prague to Manhattan takes fifteen hours.
I spend every single one of them becoming Elara Vance.
Her birthday is September 14th. She's twenty-nine, born in Madison Wisconsin, to parents who divorced when she was twelve. She went to Harvard on a partial scholarship, graduated with honors and worked for three consulting firms, all of which no longer exist in their original form. She's single, she lives in a studio apartment in Brooklyn that Jessa rented and furnished last week and she has a cat, a gray one Loki.
I hate cats but Elara Vance apparently loves them.
The taxi drops me on Sixth Avenue, right across from Bryant Park. It's Tuesday morning, the sun is out, people are eating breakfast at outdoor cafes, walking dogs and hurrying to offices with coffee cups in their hands.
And there it is.
Sable Black headquarters.
Fifty-two stories of glass and steel. The building is all sharp angles and reflective surfaces, like it's trying to cut the sky. The Sable Black logo is mounted above the entrance—a stylized S in dark gray, simple, expensive and absolutely confident.
I pay the driver. My hands are steady while my heart isn't.
You're Elara Vance, you belong here and you're exactly who they're looking for.
I walk through the revolving doors.
The lobby is huge with marble floors with a reception desk that looks like it was carved from a single block of obsidian, security guards in dark suits and a water feature that runs the length of one wall, water cascading over black stone.
And the smell was expensive and clean like money, power and everything I've spent six months hunting.
I walk to the security desk.
The guard is tall, broad, with the kind of face that's seen everything and trusts nothing. His name tag says "Marcus Holt." Head of Security, according to the org chart Jessa pulled.
"Name?" His voice is calm and professional.
"Elara Vance. I have an interview with Mr. Croft at nine."
He checks a screen and nods.
"ID?"
I handed over my passport. Elara Vance's passport, the one Jessa made. He scans it, looking at the screen then at me and at the screen again.
"Take the elevator to the thirty-fourth floor, someone will meet you."
"Thank you."
He nods again.
I take my passport back walking into the elevators feeling his eyes on me the whole way.
The elevator is fast and quiet. It was the kind of elevator that costs more than most people's houses.
Thirty-four floors in thirty seconds.
The doors open onto a reception area that's all cream marble and soft lighting with a woman behind a desk who looks like she stepped out of a fashion magazine. Blonde, she had a perfect posture and a smile that's professional but not warm.
"Ms. Vance?" She stands. "I'm Ingrid, Mr. Croft's executive assistant. He'll see you now, follow me."
Ingrid, I remember the name from Jessa's research. She's German who's in her early forties and has been with Sable Black for fifteen years. She knows everything but says little.
I followed her down a hallway lined with doors. They were all closed and identical. At the end, she stops and knocks twice.
"Come in," a voice says.
She opens the door and gestures to me inside.
Alistair Croft's office is exactly what I expected. Wood paneling, bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes that have probably never been read, a view of Bryant Park through floor-to-ceiling windows and a desk that was the size of a small car.
And behind the desk, Alistair Croft.
He's in his sixties with silver hair which was perfectly styled. He has on a suit that costs more than my rent for a year with pale blue eyes that look friendly but aren't. He's smiling as he stands and reaches across the desk to shake my hand.
"Ms. Vance, a pleasure."
His handshake is soft and damp. I fight the urge to wipe my hand on my skirt.
"Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Croft."
"Please, sit. Can Ingrid bring you coffee? Tea?"
"Water would be lovely, Thank you."
He gestures and Ingrid disappears. I sit in the chair across from him. It was made of expensive leather designed to make you feel small.
Croft sits back down and studies me over steepled fingers.
"Your application was impressive. Harvard MBA, excellent references and a very... selective career path."
"Thank you. I've been fortunate to work with good people."
"And why Sable Black? Why now?"
This is the question I've prepared for. The one I've rehearsed fifty times in my head.
"Sable Black is at a turning point. The European merger is significant. It will define the company's trajectory for the next decade and I want to be part of defining that trajectory."
He nods.
"And your specific interest in the merger?"
I lean forward just slightly.
"Cross-border acquisitions are my specialty. The regulatory challenges alone create opportunities for companies that navigate them well. I've studied Sable Black's approach to similar deals, you're methodical, careful and you don't rush which is rare."
Croft's smile widens just a fraction.
"You've done your homework."
"I always do."
He laughs. A small, pleased sound.
"Ms. Vance, I've been in this business for forty years. I've interviewed hundreds of consultants. Most of them are selling me a version of themselves they think I want to see." He pauses. "You're different."
My stomach tightens. "Different how?"
"I'm not sure yet." His eyes narrow slightly, still friendly, still assessing. "But different isn't bad. The difference is... interesting."
Ingrid returns with a glass of water. Condensation is already forming on the outside. I take it, sip letting the cold settle me.
"Tell me about the Delgado acquisition," Croft says. "You handled the due diligence, correct?"
I nod. Jessa planted that job in my history last week. I've read the file so many times I could recite it in my sleep.
"Yes. Delgado was a family-owned firm of three generations. They'd never been audited by an outside firm. The books were... creative."
"Creative how?"
"Let's just say their definition of 'assets' included things that had been depreciated for fifteen years but were still on the ledger at full value. And their liabilities were... optimistic."
Croft chuckles. "How did you handle it?"
"We restructured. Brought in independent appraisers, recalculated the valuation from scratch. The final deal was forty percent lower than their initial ask, but everyone walked away satisfied."
"Everyone?"
"The family got liquidity and the buyer got a fair price and I got a reputation for being thorough."
He nods slowly. "Thorough, yes that's what we need."
He asks more questions about other deals, my availability. I answer each one smoothly, confidently, never hesitating, never contradicting myself.
Elara Vance is perfect.
Elara Vance is exactly what they're looking for.
After forty-five minutes, Croft leans back in his chair. His smile is genuine now.
"Well, Ms. Vance, I've seen enough. Your contract is approved. Ingrid will handle the paperwork, we'd like you to start Monday."
Relief floods through me keeping my face calm.
"Thank you, Mr. Croft, I won't let you down."
"I don't expect you will."
I stand. We shake hands again, his grip still soft.
"One more thing," he says as I reach the door. "You'll be reporting directly to me for now but eventually—" He pauses and smiles. "Eventually you'll meet our CEO Kael Sable. He's... particular about who he works with and I think you'll pass muster."
My heart skips.
Kael Sable.
The man on the phone.
The man who sent me that photo of Jessa.
The man who told me I have twenty-nine days.
"I look forward to it," I say.
I walk out of his office with my heart pounding, my face calm and my whole body screaming.
Ingrid was at her desk, she handed me a folder.
"Contract, benefits information, security protocols are all included in this file. Read everything and return the signed documents by Friday."
"Thank you."
She nods. Her smile is still professional, still not warm.
The elevator ride down was quick. The revolving doors spit me out onto Sixth Avenue and I stand there for a full minute, just breathing.
I did it.
I'm in.
Twenty-six days left.
I start walking in the distance trying to process.
My phone buzzes.
Unknown number.
I stop walking, staring at the screen.
I answer.
Silence then a voice.
"Impressive work."
I looked around, everywhere was filled with businessmen, tourists, and students. Any of them could be watching.
"Who is this?"
"You know who this is."
Kael Sable.
"How do you know about the interview?"
"I know everything that happens in my building, Ms. Vance. Or should I call you Vale?"
My blood turns cold.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do but don't worry your secret is safe for now."
"Then why are you calling?"
A pause. I can hear him breathing in a slow but controlled way.
"Because I want to see you in person. My office, in thirty minutes."
"That's not how this works. I will report to Croft."
"Croft works for me. Everyone works for me. Thirty minutes, Vale, don't be late."
The line goes dead.
I stand on the sidewalk, surrounded by strangers, holding a dead phone, trying to remember how to breathe.
He knows my name.
He knows everything.
And he wants to see me.