1.Chapter 1 The Ace Operative

It was midnight on Boaz Street, Orsin City.

Beep beep beep—

Sirens screamed as the Royal Special Forces—elite operators—surrounded the auction house, making it impossible to escape.

"All units, lock it down!"

"Fox has been spotted at Waylen Auction House! Her target tonight—Rothialand's 'Blood Ruby'!"

"She can't get away!"

"Seal every exit! Not a single bug gets out!"

But they were already too late.

Inside, a thick, smoky fog had knocked out everyone—guards, big shots—leaving them slumped on the floor.

Among the unconscious crowd, a woman in a sleek black velvet gown walked confidently toward the stage.

She took a gas mask from her bag, sliding it on with practiced ease.

Anyone watching the feed might've thought she was just another rich guest... until she pulled a hairpin from her hair, bent it into a lockpick, and jammed it into the lock of the safe holding the Blood Ruby.

Click. The "unhackable" lock popped open like a cheap toy.

"Sorry, folks," she said with a sly smirk, winking at the security camera. "Thanks for the party, but I'm taking this shiny rock home.

"Night-night."

Right there, with everyone watching, she snatched the Blood Ruby and pocketed it like it was no big deal.

Yup, that was her.

No one knew her past. No one knew who she worked for.

But everyone knew her name—Fox. The greatest thief in the world, slipping in and out of palaces and vaults like they were nothing.

The only agent ever given a 5S "global threat" classification.

But deep in her mind was another name: Narissa Everton.

"Little Narissa... my sweet flower..." That lullaby from her mother.

Too bad time had blurred the rest. All Narissa could remember was her mother's warm smile—nothing else about where she came from.

With the Blood Ruby in her grip, Narissa was ready to ghost, same as always.

But then—

Bang!

A gunshot shattered the quiet.

Narissa dodged in a split second, the bullet zipping past her ear and smashing a vase behind her.

"Not so fast, Fox." The deep voice echoed through the room.

A tall figure dropped from the second-floor balcony.

Dressed in black tactical gear that showed off his ripped build, the guy stood a towering six-foot-two, radiating pure, don't-mess-with-me vibes.

His sharp jawline carried a deadly edge.

Narissa grinned. "Well, well... if it isn't Bastien. Been a minute, huh?"

Bastien was Rothialand's top combat commander, the baddest dude around. Word was, nobody ever escaped him.

Even Fox had been burned by him three times. No lie—this guy was the biggest thorn in her thieving side.

But she'd also snatched 58 relics right under his nose, which was a straight-up middle finger to his ego. Safe to say, this chase had become personal.

"Sorry, man, but this Blood Ruby's mine," Narissa said, her grin fading as she flicked a handful of silver needles his way.

Bastien dodged like a pro.

Narissa didn't wait, vaulting onto the auction stage and flipping up to the second floor.

"Get her!" Bastien barked into his earpiece, eyes glued to her. "Seal every exit!"

And just like that, a wild chase tore through the auction house's corridors.

Narissa moved like a wildfire, sly and untouchable. Even in a tight gown and killer heels, she was unstoppable.

Bastien was hot on her heels, relentless.

They clashed in the stairwell.

"Hey, Bastien, you've been chasing me from Primaland to North Ekloria, now Oravine," Narissa teased, throwing punches. "You got a crush on me or what?"

Bastien's face stayed ice-cold. "Shut it, Fox. Hand it over."

Narissa backflipped out of his grab, landing a quick kick to his wrist. His gun hit the floor with a clank.

Bastien switched to close-quarters combat, every move sharp and military-grade, backing Narissa into a corner.

She saw it coming. In a flash, she yanked a dagger from her thigh strap and swung at him.

They went at it, blade against fists, neither giving an inch.

Then—slash! Narissa's dagger nicked Bastien's sleeve, drawing a thin line of blood.

He grabbed her wrist, twisting hard.

Clank! Her dagger hit the ground.

"Fox, you're done," Bastien said, catching his breath.

Narissa just laughed. "You think?"

With her free hand, she flicked a smoke bomb from her wrist. It hit the floor, bursting into a blinding flash and a cloud of thick smoke.

Bastien flinched, shielding his eyes. When the smoke cleared, Narissa was gone.

"Damn it!" Bastien slammed his fist into the wall. That was when he noticed a playing card tucked in his sleeve—an Ace of Hearts.

"Commander Harlow, target spotted in Corridor Three!" his team shouted through the earpiece.

Under the moonlight, Bastien saw Narissa sprinting down Corridor Three. She even had the nerve to turn back and blow him a cheeky kiss.

"Fox!" Bastien growled, teeth clenched. "I'm taking you down myself!"

He stormed toward the command center, barking into his earpiece: "Lock every exit. No ID, no one leaves!

"She's not slipping out of this one!"

*****

Narissa dodged Bastien's relentless pursuit, slipping into the men's restroom at the auction house.

That guy was like a dog on a scent, setting up a trap tight enough to choke. If she wanted to slip away, she'd need something clever—fast.

In a stall, she grabbed her hidden toolkit and got to work. Off came the disguise, revealing her true face—soft, oval, with skin so flawless it could make one jealous.

She swapped her outfit for a flowy white dress, looking like an angel who'd tripped into this chaos.

No one would peg her as the sultry vixen from minutes ago.

Truth was, nobody knew this was the real Agent Fox.

As she stepped out, her ears caught a faint sound.

'Damn it,' she thought. 'They are closing in quick.'

A new outfit wasn't gonna throw Bastien off her trail this time.

She bolted down the left hallway, heart pounding. Three seconds later, a searcher's voice echoed. "Commander Harlow, this is the last unchecked spot!"

"Keep looking!" Bastien's voice cut like a blade. "She's close. I can feel it."

"Yes, sir!"

Meanwhile, Narissa hit a four-way corridor, stomach dropping. Dead end ahead, and boots closing in from every side.

'Is this it? Am I really done for?' Her heart pounded like crazy.

Creak.

A door swung open, and a group of fancy auction guests spilled out of a private lounge, all chatter and clinking glasses.

Narissa's fingers twitched, a thin blade sliding from her sleeve. 'No escape? Fine. Time for a hostage.'

She scanned the crowd, picking her target, when—

"Cressida? What the hell? I thought you were back home!" A stunned voice broke through.

Narissa froze. A classy woman, arm-in-arm with a sharp older guy, stared at her, eyes wide.

But when their gazes locked, Narissa's breath caught. That face stirred something, a blurry memory from childhood.

"No, wait!" The woman squinted, shaking her head. "You're not Cressida."

It wasn't just her face—her whole vibe, her energy, it was all wrong.

Then her gaze zeroed in on the small teardrop mole under Narissa's left eye, and something snapped into place.

"You… oh my God, you're…" Tears spilled as she rushed forward, voice breaking. "You're my Narissa! My baby girl, gone thirteen years!"

She pulled Narissa into a tight hug, sobbing. "We've looked for you for thirteen freaking years."

Narissa wasn't one for touchy-feely moments.

She could've dodged that hug in a dozen ways, but that voice—so warm, so familiar—and that face, so much like the mom she half-remembered.

'Is this really my mom?' she thought.

For once, Narissa didn't pull away. She remembered she had a twin sister out there, too.

Thud, thud, thud.

Heavy boots hit the hall. Bastien's sharp, chiseled face appeared, sharp eyes scanning like a predator closing in.

2.Chapter 2 The Evertons' Second Daughter

Bastien's crew had the place sealed tight, checking every corner.

"No trace of Fox, sir!" one guy barked.

"Nothing here either!" another chimed in.

Bastien frowned. This was the last unsearched area, and the building's layout left no room to hide.

'So where is she?' he wondered.

His sharp eyes zeroed in on Narissa's direction.

"Who're those people?" he asked, voice low and edgy.

"VIP lounge. Auction guests. Fox's stunt freaked 'em out, so they're crashing there for now," a team member replied.

Bastien's gaze locked onto a teenage girl hugged tight by a stunning woman in the crowd.

He started toward them.

"Commander Harlow!" one of his crew barked. "We got a lead on Fox—spotted in the men's restroom on the west side!"

"Let's move!" Bastien whipped around and bolted, vanishing into the chaos.

Once he was gone, Narissa peeked out from the woman's arms.

She couldn't believe it. She'd dodged Bastien's sweep that easily—no fight, no mess.

'But… a mom?' Narissa's lips curled into a sly grin. 'Talk about family vibes I haven't felt in, what, over a decade?'

"Honey, this is our Narissa!" Amanda said, tugging Narissa toward a polished middle-aged man, her voice buzzing with excitement.

"No doubt about it! She's our girl's double! Can't be anyone else!" Hector matched her vibe, his eyes soft with concern as he looked at Narissa.

He added,"Heard some hotshot thief crashed the auction. Narissa, kiddo, you okay? Bet that scared the crap outta you. Don't worry—Mom and Dad's got your back. We're taking you home, safe and sound."

"Yeah, those goons looked rough. Let's not scare our girl more. Honey, we gotta get Cressida outta here quick," Amanda urged.

*****

At the west Side men's room, Bastien and his team barged in, spotting it: a black velvet gown and some disguise gear—Fox's leftovers.

"Fox is too damn slick! Even changed her look!" one of his guys growled. "What's next, sir?"

Bastien crouched, picking up the gown. A faint perfume mixed with a sweet, milky scent hit him.

He knew that smell.

His eyes widened. It was the girl in the white dress from the VIP lounge.

"Son of a—!" He'd been played. Again.

His face darkened, eyes cold as ice. "Lock down that girl in the white dress from the VIP lounge. Now!"

"On it!" his crew replied.

Too late. Narissa was already out the VIP exit with Hector and Amanda, headed for Rothialand's international airport.

*****

The Next Day, Narissa hadn't even touched down with the Evertons before her story blew up across Rothialand—especially in Sinney City's high-society crowd.

The Evertons were the kind of family everyone gossiped about. Everyone knew they'd lost a daughter thirteen years back.

Their eldest, Cressida, was a superstar—brains, talent, one named it. And now her long-lost twin, Narissa, was back.

Talk about a bombshell.

Reporters were all over it, but the Evertons kept things hush-hush, whisking Narissa to their massive estate without a peep.

Inside the Everton mansion, it was a full house.

Relatives—close and distant—packed the living room, circling Dario Everton like he was royalty. All eyes were glued to the door.

When Narissa walked in with her parents, the room froze. Dozens of stares hit her like a spotlight, and she squinted, thrown off.

She was used to working in the shadows—pulling heists, taking out marks, gone before anyone blinked.

Being gawked at like this? Not her scene.

As soon as they stepped inside, Hector, her dad, practically tripped over himself to introduce her to the old guy in the crisp gray suit, gripping a cane like a scepter.

"Dad, this is Narissa…" Hector's voice cracked. "She's had it tough out there.

"If she hadn't been at that auction we went to, who knows when we'd have found her?"

He got all misty-eyed, then nudged her forward. "Narissa, come on, this is your grandpa. Say hi!"

It was clear Hector wasn't the one in charge—his dad Dario ran the show.

Narissa, shaped by a life of solo missions, wasn't big on family.

But she was curious enough to give it a shot.

She opened her mouth to say "Grandpa," but—

"Enough!" A cranky voice cut her off.

Dario slammed his cane down, glaring at her like she was trash. "What's all this fuss over some nobody?

"Look at her! No manners, no class. Take her out, and she'll drag the Everton name through the mud!"

Dario, who'd built the family from nothing, wasn't a fan of women. To him, they'd never stack up to men.

His only pride? Cressida. She was a rockstar—nailing everything from piano to punches, etiquette to sharpshooting. A real Everton heiress.

Narissa? Not so much, in his book.

"Dad…" Hector mumbled, looking like he wanted to sink into the floor.

Amanda was smoother. She grabbed Narissa's arm, steering things elsewhere.

"Dad, she's just getting her bearings," sh said. "But trust me—Narissa's Cressida's twin. She's gotta have that same fire, right?"

Amanda flashed a grin at Cressida. "You two were glued at the hip as kids. Bet you've got a ton to catch up on!

"Cressida, go chat with your sis. Narissa, say hi to your big sis!"

Narissa finally got a good look at her older sister. Eighteen, five-foot-five, poised like a queen.

Cressida wore a chic floral dress from a hot designer's fall line, her twin pigtails framing a face that was almost Narissa's twin—nine-tenths identical, easy. Petite and charming, she screamed "rich girl" vibes.

Narissa had seen her share of high-fliers worldwide, but here, Cressida was the one to beat.

As Narissa checked her out, Cressida was doing the same.

"Pfft, no way my sister's a freaking maid!" Cressida scoffed, ducking behind their grandfather like he was a shield. "Mom, Dad, where'd you find this rando?

"Looks like me, so she's my sister now? You even check her DNA?"

She smirked, arms crossed. "Bet she's scamming you! Playing the poor cleaner girl? I saw her face in some gossip rag—some rich dude's arm candy abroad!"

Her words hit like a punch. Dario's face turned stormy, and the maids and staff shot Narissa dirty looks.

"Cressida!" Amanda gasped, floored her polite daughter could be so nasty. "That's no way to talk about your sister! Is this how we raised you?"

"Cressida!" Hector snapped, glaring. "Say sorry to her. Now."

"I didn't say squat that's not true!" Cressida whined, pouting. "Why am I the bad guy? Look her up online, check her past abroad!"

The room went quiet, tension thick as fog.

Then—

"Tch!" A sharp, mocking voice cut in, laced with a laugh. "No proof, just running your mouth? This the class of the Everton family's princess?"

"More like a trash-talking wannabe!" Narissa shot back, her tone razor-sharp. "Gotta say, the Everton family's really something… or not."

Everyone's jaws dropped.

Narissa was the new kid in this fancy family. Unlike Cressida, who could mouth off and get a slap on the wrist, Narissa was supposed to play nice, fit in.

But calling Cressida a wannabe? Trashing the Everton family? They all thought she'd lost it.

Dario lost it first. His eyes bulged. "Listen to this! This is the girl you brought home? Talking that trash? Raised in the streets, no class at all!"

"Shameful!" he roared, storming toward Narissa, cane raised like a club. "Fine! I'll teach you the Everton family's rules myself! We didn't get a second heiress—we got a damn delinquent!"

In a flash, he swung his cane at Narissa.

Old or not, the guy was a former soldier—his swing was fast and mean. No dodging it unless he held back. One hit, and she'd be black-and-blue, laid up for weeks.

Hector and Amanda went pale.

"Dad!" Hector shouted.

"Dario, no—!" Amanda followed.

The staff froze, already picturing Narissa begging for mercy after the blow.

But then—

Just as the cane came down, Narissa raised a hand to her lips, pulling a dramatic mock gasp.

Without looking up, she flicked her wrist—snap—and caught the cane mid-swing, her grip dead-on.

With a lazy tug, she yanked it from him.

Then, right there in front of everyone, she snapped the cane—thick as a baseball bat—in half with one easy twist.

Crack! The pieces hit the floor.

"Whoops, forgot to mention," Narissa said, her voice cold and sharp. "I've got a short fuse. And I hate people pointing crap at me—even my so-called grandpa."

She leaned in, eyes like ice. "Do it again, and it's not your cane I'll break. It'll be your neck."

The room went silent, every jaw on the floor.

3.Chapter 3 Or I Will Disown You

'Whoa.' Everyone froze, jaws dropping. 'Did she just threaten to break his neck?

'This is the long-lost granddaughter, fresh off the streets, talking to her grandfather?'

And the way she'd grabbed Dario's cane and snapped it like a twig? That thing was solid rosewood, not some flimsy stick.

'How the hell did she do that?' the room wondered, stunned.

They quickly pieced it together.

'Must be all those years scrapping it out there,' they thought. 'Bullied so much she turned into this brute. No class, just a street kid acting like a total thug.'

Their disdain for Narissa cranked up a notch.

"You… you little punk!" Dario wheezed, clutching his chest and pointing a shaky finger.

He could barely choke out the words. "What a disgrace! A total embarrassment to the Everton name! We bring back a savage like you, and you threaten your own kin?"

"Apologize. Now," he barked. "Or I will disown you!"

That was no small threat. Getting disowned meant Narissa would be a nobody in the city's elite circles—fair game for anyone to stomp on, with no family to back her up.

"Dad!" "Dario!" Hector and Amanda swapped worried looks, their faces tight.

Narissa just scoffed, a sharp, mocking sound. "Me apologize? Nah, you owe me one.

"First, you didn't raise me, so keep your hands off. Second, you didn't make me, so you've got no say."

She leaned in, voice dripping with sass. "And don't get it twisted, old man. I'm here for Mom and Dad, not you. Disown me? Be my guest. I don't care."

Narissa—sly as a fox and a master agent who could vanish in a heartbeat—had a million ways to ditch this place after Waylen Auction House.

She came back for her parents, not some grumpy grandpa who treated her like trash.

The room went dead silent, floored by her gutsy comeback.

"What… What'd you say?!" Dario was so mad he looked ready to pass out, his breathing short and ragged.

In a flash, maids, the family doctor, and Cressida swarmed him, fussing and checking his pulse.

"Narissa…" Hector shot her a worried glance, then looked at his dad.

She waved him off. "Chill, he's not dying. Just asthma and a bad temper. He'll survive."

Her words hit like a gut punch. The room went quiet as a grave.

Because she was dead-on. Dario did have mild asthma and a hot temper that messed with his health.

But how did this rough-edged girl, just dragged back home, know his exact issues?

Even Dario, snapped out of it by Cressida pinching his upper lip, had a flicker of shock in his eyes.

Narissa was over this drama. She crossed her arms, all lazy, fox-like swagger, and pointed at a random maid.

"I'm beat," she said. "Got a room ready or what? Let's go."

No first-day jitters. Just pure, don't-mess-with-me vibes.

The maid she'd picked had been sneering at Narissa earlier, thinking she was just some trashy street kid. But after that showdown with Dario? She was spooked.

Narissa's stare gave her chills, like summer turned to winter.

"Uh… this way, Miss Narissa Everton," the maid muttered, leading her upstairs.

As Narissa climbed the steps, Cressida's angry voice echoed behind."Mom! Dad! Can you believe her?

"Grandpa's practically having a heart attack, and she just walks off? Bet she's been up to some shady crap out there!"

Amanda's voice followed, thick with guilt and tears."It's my fault… I failed her.

"She must've been through hell to turn into this tough-as-nails girl, protecting herself like that."

*****

Narissa trailed the maid to the third floor. When the door opened, revealing the room's setup, a sharp twinge hit her chest—like a quick jab to the heart.

It left her buzzing, almost numb.

The room was huge, swallowing half the third floor—two hundred square meters, at least.

But it still screamed kid's room, stuck in a time warp.

A crib and plush toys sat on one side; on the other, a walk-in closet brimmed with designer shoes, bags, and jewelry, sized for a girl from tiny to teen.

The maid spoke up, voice calm but firm. "This? All for you, from Mr. and Mrs. Everton.

"There's even a storage room downstairs packed with more of your stuff."

She gave a small smile. "Whatever your big sis got, they got for you too. Wanted it ready for when you came home. Over time… it just piled up."

Narissa's heart gave a quick thud. She'd only linked up with the Evertons to shake Bastien's dogged chase.

Back then, she thought she was a lone wolf—no one to care if she kicked the bucket in some alley. Not a single soul would blink.

But now, parents who'd kept a spot warm for her, waiting all these years? That was pretty freaking awesome.

Once the maid left, Narissa didn't mess around.

She locked the door, pulled the curtains tight, and fished a small device and some spare parts from her pocket.

Since grabbing The Blood Ruby, she'd been stuck with the Evertons, cut off from the world.

Her crew was probably freaking out by now, wondering where she'd vanished to.

In under ten seconds, she'd slapped together a tiny communicator.

Clickety-clack. Her fingers flew across the keys, and the screen flickered, linking to a hidden network.

She opened their secure chat and pinged her guy, Octopus.

001: [Hey, Octopus, tell the higher-ups I've got The Blood Ruby. Plans went sideways, though—can't hit the drop.

[I'm in Rothialand, posing as the Everton's lost kid. Don't ask. Send someone to grab the goods. And get Intel to erase my current ID, stat.]

Sent. Three seconds later, a reply lit up.

008: [Damn, boss, you're a beast! Got it!]

Narissa smirked, ready to bounce. But then—

Her eyes widened as Octopus's next message popped up, hitting her like a gut punch.

008: [Bad news, boss. Too late to wipe your tracks. Dark web's buzzing— Bastien's in Rothialand, hot on your trail. Guy's here, and he's coming for you.]

4.Chapter 4 Codename 001

Bastien was way faster than Narissa'd expected.

She leaned back, her mind spinning. Looked like she was about to crash right into Bastien, ready or not.

Here was the thing: that dude had no idea the woman he'd sworn to hunt down was on Rothialand's payroll, same as him.

He was the big shot in the spotlight; she was the ghost in the shadows.

She wasn't just Agent Fox, the slickest thief alive. She was also Codename 001, the Military Intelligence Office's top dog, locked down at 5S-level secrecy.

Nobody outside her tight crew had ever seen her face—not even the higher-ups.

Her identity was a national secret, sealed tighter than a drum.

No surprise Bastien didn't know who he was dealing with.

Narissa smirked, licking her lips like a fox sizing up its prey. If this was how it was gonna go, she'd play his little game.

She couldn't wait to see the look on that cold-as-ice jerk's face when he realized who she was.

Ping! Another message from Octopus popped up.

008: [Hey, Boss, heads-up. The Harlow family? Rothialand's oldest, sketchiest clan. They're way above the Evertons' league. Word is, they owe Dario a favor. I'm worried your "family reunion" might put you right in Bastien's crosshairs.]

*****

At night, dinnertime rolled around.

After chilling in her room all afternoon, Narissa was called downstairs by her parents.

The Evertons were old-school, high-society folks with strict rules. If they weren't out of town, they parked their butt at the big dining table for meals.

Dario's rule, no exceptions.

At the table, Amanda flashed Narissa a warm smile.

"Here, hon, I know you used to love steak as a kid. Hope you're still into it. I made this myself—dig in!" She plopped a juicy chunk into Narissa's plate, eyes sparkling.

"Your mom's been busting her chops in the kitchen all day," Hector said with a grin. "Craving anything else? Just say it, and I'll have the chef hook it up."

Thud!

Dario slammed his fork down, still pissed. But for some reason, he didn't rip into Narissa this time.

She blinked, catching the vibe. Her parents must've talked him down.

Sure enough, Hector cleared his throat. "So, Narissa, we hashed it out with your grandpa.

"Three days from now, we're throwing you a big welcome-back party."

Amanda grabbed Narissa's hand, voice soft but excited. "You're an Everton heiress, sweetie. All Sinney City's big shots will be there.

"Great chance to mingle and make a name for yourself."

"We're gonna make it official," Hector added. "Press, guests, the works. Everyone's gonna know the Everton family's second daughter is back."

Narissa gave a quick nod. She wasn't thrilled about some ritzy gala, but if it made her folks happy, she'd roll with it.

"She's got no clue how to act at a thing like that. You sure she won't make us look like fools?" Dario muttered.

Amanda jumped in. "Dario, chill. We've got this. Starting tomorrow, Narissa's training at Regality Academy.

"They'll get her up to speed. No way she's embarrassing the family."

Regality Academy. The capital's elite training ground, churning out polished socialites and badasses alike.

It wasn't just etiquette and piano lessons—they taught real skills: fighting, shooting, even medical training.

Graduate from there, and you could probably escape a kidnapping with a hairpin.

Cressida was one of their star students, after all.

"Hmph. Good luck with that," Dario scoffed, clearly not sold.

Cressida rolled her eyes, looking annoyed as hell.

Amanda and Hector shared a helpless glance.

Amanda turned to Narissa, her tone soft. "Don't worry, hon. Regality's teachers are great, and it's a chill vibe. Never thrown a punch or shot a gun? No biggie—they'll start you from scratch. You'll pick it up in no time."

*****

Dinner went by without a hitch.

Afterward, Narissa dragged herself upstairs.

The trip back from Orsin City's Waylen Auction House had been rough, and with Bastien possibly on her tail, she hadn't slept a wink.

All she wanted was to crash hard.

But as she opened her door, she sensed someone behind her.

Narissa's instincts flared. Her eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing.

Then she saw it was just Cressida who'd followed her up. Before Narissa could step inside, Cressida slapped a hand on the doorframe, blocking her.

"I saw it!" Cressida's eyes burned with accusation. "Don't play dumb with me!"

Narissa raised an eyebrow. "Saw what?"

"Some sketchy gossip site," Cressida hissed. "You were all over some sleazy rich dude, waltzing into a hotel. The comments tore you apart—called you his side chick, a gold-digger who'll do anything for cash!"

"You…" Cressida's voice shook. "You're out here selling yourself! Probably carrying who-knows-what. It's gross!

"I'm not claiming you as my sister. So, what's your excuse?"

Narissa's edge softened as it clicked. 'Rich dude? Gossip site? Oh, yeah.'

It clicked. Last year, she'd had a rushed hit job. No time for a disguise, so she'd used her real face to lure that sleazy tycoon into a hotel.

Job done. Clean kill.

Someone must've snapped a pic. And, of course, Cressida saw it online.

So that was why her never-met-before sister had it out for her.

Narissa crossed her arms, smirking.

Cressida's lips tightened, her glare fierce. "You're not even gonna deny it?"

Narissa wasn't about to spill her secrets. Her real job was too risky to reveal—one slip could put her family in danger.

So she just shrugged, her tone cool and unbothered. "Yeah, you got me. So what?"

Cressida's face went red. 'So what? Is this girl for real? No shame at all?'

"What?!" Cressida snapped, fuming.

She'd never met anyone so brazen—acting like being a mistress or some shady sidepiece was no big deal.

Cressida was done. She couldn't believe this was the sister their parents had spent years searching for.

She pointed at Narissa, her voice venomous. "Listen, Narissa. I'm digging up every dirty secret you've got—every job, every fake name, every shady move.

"I'll make sure Mom, Dad, Grandpa, and everyone in the city knows what a lowlife you are!"

5.Chapter 5 Speedsters And Sneaky Plans

"Whoa, for real?" Narissa's eyes popped wide at Cressida's bold words, but then she yawned, all chill and carefree. "Fine, do your worst, sis. I'm zonked, so… whatever."

Before Cressida could flip out, Narissa zipped into her room, slamming the door with a loud thud. She flipped the lock with a sly grin.

Through the door, she could hear Cressida muttering some choice words.

Narissa leaned back, arms crossed, smirking. 'My big sis is way too comfy playing queen bee, thinking she can just waltz in and start poking around in my business.'

'Good luck, princess. Do you really think you could crack something that locked down?'

Her info was sealed tighter than a drum—top-secret stuff, no joke. Even Bastien, who was a total pro at sniffing out leads, could barely catch a whiff of her trail.

Cressida? Total amateur hour.

Narissa's grin widened as she heard Cressida pound the door, give it a hard kick, and storm off in a huff.

With a quick laugh, Narissa hit the sack.

*****

Come morning, Narissa shuffled downstairs, yawning like she'd run a marathon.

Her messy hair and laid-back vibe only made her more charming, rocking that cute, girl-next-door look.

Amanda's face lit up when she saw her. 'There's my girl! All natural and glowy. Not like Cressida, always caked in makeup.

'I swear, I can't even remember what her real face looks like anymore!'

She sighed, recalling how Cressida once called her "so basic" for mentioning it.

"Narissa, get over here! I made you breakfast—special just for you. Dad and your sister don't get this VIP deal." Amanda waved her over with a big smile.

The Evertons had a chef who could whip up anything from pancakes to fancy crepes, but Amanda wanted to cook for Narissa herself.

After all those years her daughter spent out in the world, fending for herself, Amanda felt she owed her some mom love.

"Mmm, smells like a dream!" Narissa chirped, practically bouncing to the table like any other teen.

The spread was simple—some sandwiches and cookies—nothing like the gourmet dishes she'd had globetrotting.

But it was good. Gotta be that mom magic.

"Slow down, sweetie! There's plenty more," Amanda said, her heart aching as Narissa dug in.

'What kind of life did my kid have out there?' she thought bitterly.

Once Narissa was stuffed, Amanda got to the point. "So, Narissa, your sister's already off to Regality Academy—she's always up at the crack of dawn.

"Your dad had to dash to the office with your grandpa for some big meeting, so they couldn't wait to see you off."

"I'll have the driver take you to the academy," Amanda added.

Narissa raised an eyebrow, catching the hint.

Amanda's tone was warm but firm, like she was making sure Narissa knew the family had her back, even though they weren't there.

It was her way of saying, "No worries, kid."

Narissa'd poked around online the night before about Regality Academy.

It was the place for rich kids—a fancy training ground for the elite. Getting in was like a golden ticket to Sinney City's high society.

People fought hard to get their kids enrolled, hoping they'd make connections and maybe learn a thing or two.

The academy wasn't just hype, though. Word was, their program turned spoiled rich kids into polished pros.

And Cressida? She'd apparently crushed it, earning a rep as the academy's "star player."

Narissa's eyes sparkled with mischief. 'Oh, this is gonna be good.'

"Narissa, driver's waiting. Done eating? Get to class," Amanda said, grabbing her hand with a warm grin.

Sure enough, a shiny luxury car and its driver were parked out front, ready to roll.

Amanda added, "Your sister drove herself, but I figured you don't have a license yet, so I got you a ride.

"Get one soon, though, and I'll hook you up with a sick car—your pick—for training."

"Cool with that?" she asked, eyes bright.

Narissa smirked. "No need, Mom. I've got a license."

Not just one from Rothialand—she had licenses from damn near every country on Earth.

"What?" Amanda froze. "You drive?"

The housekeeper and driver nearby froze, jaws dropping. 'Wait a sec—ain't this Everton girl, just back from overseas, supposed to be some kinda maid?

'A Rothialand license? No way, man!'

Narissa shrugged. "Had to make bank. Driving gigs paid well, so I got licensed everywhere."

Total cover story, of course. Narissa wasn't spilling her real past to her family.

But she wasn't about to play the helpless rookie either—that'd cramp her style, and she had too much on her plate.

Amanda's eyes welled up fast. "Oh, honey, you've had it tough," she said, voice cracking. "We've got sports cars in the garage. Wanna grab one?

"Or, better yet, this weekend, I'll take you to pick out a ride you love."

Narissa eyed her mom. The raw emotion, the way Amanda clung to her hand like she might vanish—it screamed love.

Weird, unfamiliar, but kinda awesome.

"Alright, Mom, pick me a good one," Narissa said with a sly grin.

"Deal!" Amanda lit up like a kid, practically dragging Narissa to the garage.

When the manager rolled out a fiery red sports car, Narissa's picky mask cracked.

"Hell yeah," she muttered. "Lamborghini Reventon. Mid-engine, four-wheel drive, six-speed manual, killer intake, slick camshafts, and a body that slays."

A total gearhead, Narissa was in love.

This was the kind of car rich kids used to flex and flirt. She didn't peg the Evertons for owning this kind of beast.

What she missed was how Amanda, the housekeeper, and the manager gaped when she rattled off the car's specs like it was nothing.

One look, and she'd nailed every detail of a top-tier supercar. That was pro-level gearhead talk.

'Hold up. Wasn't she supposed to be scrubbing floors overseas?' they wondered. 'How's she this good with cars? Like she's been burning rubber her whole damn life.'

6.Chapter 6 Wanna Mess With Her?

Then it clicked. Narissa had driver's licenses from a ton of countries. They thought she'd probably driven fancy rides for rich folks and their spoiled kids.

Sure, they weren't hers, but she'd need to know her stuff to avoid wrecking a million-dollar car—she'd be screwed if she did.

With that, the room just shrugged it off.

"Hey, Narissa, you dig this car?" Amanda asked, her voice a bit wobbly as she looked at her.

"Obsessed. Been dreamin' of this beast forever," Narissa replied, her excitement so real it shut down any doubts.

'Bet she just read up on it, never had one,' they figured.

*****

Narissa hopped into the Lamborghini Reventon and tore down the road, flooring it like a pro.

If anyone was in the passenger seat, they'd know her skills were way beyond some basic chauffeur's.

Vroom—screech!

The car whipped a clean drift around South Gate Road's corner, parking dead-on at Regality Academy's massive front gate, right where the GPS pointed.

As Narissa stepped out, a few teachers who'd gotten the memo rushed over.

"Welcome to Regality Academy, Narissa!" they cheered.

Pop! Pop!

Confetti cannons blasted, dumping a shower of colorful paper on her. Narissa grimaced, her brow twitching.

Too extra. She wasn't about this spotlight.

The noise at the gate drew a crowd of Regality Academy's elite kids. The hottest gossip in the capital's rich circles? The Everton family's long-lost second heiress was back.

"That the Everton girl they just found?" someone whispered.

"Who else is named Narissa?"

"Let's see what this chick who scrubbed floors abroad looks like!"

"Forget it. She's dressed like she shops at a yard sale—no designer gear. Thinking about her cleaning toilets? Yeah, I'm skipping lunch."

Two figures pushed through the buzzing crowd: Narissa's older sister, Cressida, and her bestie, Miranda Smith.

"Think this janitor can cut it here? With the martial arts, med training, and shooting classes?" one guy sneered, not caring Cressida was right there.

Another laughed. "Three days, tops. This place is brutal—combat and firearms are basically military-grade. Her? Bet she knows zilch."

The crowd cracked up, ready to watch Narissa crash and burn.

Up front, Miranda nudged Cressida, smirking. "Hey, Cressida, they're tearing into your sis. You gonna stick up for her or what?"

Cressida's face was ice. "I don't have a sister who does gross jobs like that."

"Wow, you really hate her, huh?" Miranda teased. "Cool, I'll find a way to school her. Don't cry about it later, though."

"Do you," Cressida scoffed, rolling her eyes and walking off.

*****

Narissa stepped into her new class, and the teacher had her give a quick intro before diving into the lesson.

Time was money for these rich kids, and no teacher dared waste a second of it.

Being her first day, Narissa got a private tutor for her etiquette and arts class.

The Evertons set it up, probably to save her from getting roasted for being totally clueless.

Narissa didn't care. Fresh off a mission with time to kill, she figured she'd have fun with this.

Sure, the fancy lessons were like kid stuff to a trained agent like her, but she was digging it anyway.

After her one-on-one session, she stepped out of the private classroom and ran smack into Miranda, who stood there, arms crossed, eyeing her like she was gum on her shoe.

"So, you're Cressida's little cleaner sister from overseas, huh? Narissa, right? I'm Miranda, her bestie," she said, all smug. "Guess that makes you my little sis too."

'Sis? Please.' Narissa saw right through her. This rich girl wasn't here to play nice, and sure enough, Miranda dropped the act fast.

"Look, since we're 'sisters,'" Miranda smirked, "I can't let you crash and burn. Next is combat boxing.

"We girls don't need to be pros, but knowing how to throw a punch? Total must for high-class ladies."

"Yeah, and?" Narissa shot back, already over it.

"And," Miranda grinned, "I'm doing you a solid with a quick lesson. Don't thank me—just don't cry when I knock you flat."

Her plan was obvious—she was here to mess with Narissa. The classmates nearby were already snickering.

Narissa played along, blinking innocently. "So, I should thank you?"

"Pfft!" The room erupted in stifled laughs.

Everyone knew Miranda was the class "prank queen." No way she'd help some nobody cleaner.

Miranda cracked up, her laugh sharp and mean. "Oh my God, you actually bought it?"

Still chuckling, she leaned in, voice dripping venom. "So, what's the deal with being a cleaner?

"Scrubbing toilets, digging through trash? Bet you smell like crap, huh?"

The other kids roared, some fanning their noses and stepping back like Narissa was radioactive.

Miranda waved it off, still smirking. "Fine, since you're Cressida's sister, I'll go easy.

"Answer my question for real, and I might teach you some legit moves so you don't totally bomb next class."

The crowd was eating it up, loving the drama.

But Narissa? She tilted her head, flashing a sly grin.

No more playing dumb. She raised an eyebrow and dropped a bomb.

"Anyone ever tell you how pathetic you look, acting like a clown trying to dunk on people?" Narissa said, cool as ice. "Thanks for the heads-up, though—you've made it real clear my sister hates me being back.

"But you? Teaching me to fight? Sweetie, you're not even in my league."

Boom. Dead silence.

Miranda's face twisted with rage—she was the fool now.

"You little bitch! You knew I was screwing with you and still played me?" she yelled. "And you think I'm not qualified? Oh, you're toast.

"You have no idea what we learn in Regality Academy's combat class. I'm gonna make you eat those words—now!"

Miranda lunged, her moves sharp, her fist slicing the air toward Narissa.

She wasn't just showboating—she had real skills.

'No show-off nonsense here,' the crowd thought, holding their breath. 'Wow, Narissa really got under Miranda's skin.

'She's got some bad luck, picking a fight with her. Fresh home and already in deep shit.'

Miranda wasn't the academy's top fighter, but she was no rookie either—she'd been trained to throw down.

These rich kids were trained hard in self-defense—kidnapping was a real risk when they were loaded, so Regality Academy drilled combat into them.

In their mind, Narissa, some random girl from the streets? No way she could handle this.

"She's gonna get smashed," the onlookers whispered.

Everyone watched, waiting for Miranda's fist to land.

Then—whoosh!

Narissa's eyes sharpened, a cold, confident glint flashing through them, like a pro who'd faced worse than this brat and laughed it off.

She radiated the vibe of someone who owned the room.

And then—