Phantom Strings

A pity I had to do that, I think as I sip my drink.

I sigh, my gaze drifting to a picture of the girl I assassinated. My hand trembles so badly that the glass nearly slips. My head pounds, a relentless throbbing. I just want to sleep. My mind burns, stuck in a loop with no way back.

Oh, how lovely it would be to sit with someone-anyone-sipping wine, talking about meaningless things, complaining about little struggles. How I wish I could go back to the time when I was just a pretty little teenager, unaware of what was coming. Back when my biggest concern was what i should eat tonight, not realizing I had everything I needed. Happiness. Not that I don't have it now.

A few drops spill onto the picture. Vanessa. Pretty name. Suits her face-so full of life and potential. A shame she had to go.

Greed makes people do terrible, reckless things. I would know-I have first-hand experience. I've done things I wish I hadn't. Things I regret. And yet... sometimes, I don't.

My head throbs harder. I place my drink down, and it sloshes onto the intricately carved wood of my desk. The pain sharpens, growing unbearable. Seven long, suffocating seconds pass before my phone rings.

The shrill sound sends chills down my spine.

I inhale, forcing myself to steady my shaking fingers, and answer.

"S-Saraphina. Sara," the voice stammers. A man's voice. Ragged breathing. "I was just about done for the day when I checked the security footage from January 1st. That girl-Victoria, Cassie, Veronica? Whatever. Saraphina. The footage is gone. Wiped. Like it never existed. It's eerie. The fire happened, but there's no sign of her. Sara, this is scary. Whoever was working with her... they erased her so cleanly I had to dig deeper."

He pauses. I hear him swallow.

"And that's where it gets worse." His voice lowers. "Vanessa didn't exist. Do you get me? She's gone from everywhere. Thank god we got her files before-before that wiper got to them too."

My brother. My twin brother.

The only one I trust to handle my company's cybersecurity. The only person I trust, period.

And right now, even he sounds terrified.

I swallow hard, my fingers tightening around the glass. "Just get home safe and stay off the radar for now." My voice comes out steady, but my mind is racing.

"Yeah... yeah, okay," he mutters.

We say our goodbyes, and I end the call.

I exhale sharply, rubbing a hand down my face. The clock reads 21:00. I don't want to deal with this bullshit right now. The whiskey burns as I down it in one go, but the pounding in my skull doesn't stop.

Vanessa's friend. Daliya, I need to meet her.

I sigh. My work never ends. When was the last time I slept without worries? Ten years ago? Twelve? Did I ever?

I need to go home. I should change. Right now, I'm in my building, in my office, where I have a private wash room. I step inside for a quick check, making sure I don't look like I'm running on fumes. I rinse my face, adjust my shirt, and take a deep breath. When I step back out, my knees almost buckle beneath me. My body is too tired, but I need to stay conscious.

My phone buzzes-a missed call. Another person who should care about me but only wants something in return. My grip tightens around the device. I almost let out a bitter laugh. Is there a single person in this world who would even-

A knock on the door.

"Mam, I'm about to turn in for the night," Jessica, my assistant, calls from outside.

The smile comes automatically. "Come in, Jess."

She steps in, her usual professional composure in place. "Will you be staying late again, or are you heading out too? Everyone else has left."

I chuckle lightly. "Oh, I was just about to leave."

She nods. "Wonderful, Mam." A polite smile, a small bow, and then she's gone.

The moment the door shuts, the exhaustion crashes back over me. My whole body aches, but I can't tell how much of it is physical and how much is in my head.

Before I know it, I'm in the elevator. Then my car. The 30-minute drive home passes in a blur.

At home, I eat, recharge, and take a long shower. By the time I'm out, I feel a little more alive. I slip into a mid-thigh red dress-built-in shorts for comfort and mobility-then apply my signature dark pink lipstick. Black glasses, wavy hair. Even now, when I don't know if I'll make it back alive, I still look good.

I laugh at that thought.

Now, it's time to talk to Daliya.

I tracked her down to an orphanage. No wonder Vanessa was an easy target for whoever was responsible for blowing up my club. She had no real protection, nowhere safe to fall back to. A lost girl, easy to manipulate.

At least no one was inside when the explosion happened. The detectors caught it before it could turn into a disaster. We'll have to shut the place down for a while, get it restored.

But first, I need answers.