The wig came off first, the synthetic strands landing on the counter with a quiet rustle as Luelle sighed in relief. Every time she shed her disguise as "Gerard Aptos," it felt like she could finally breathe again. She stared at her reflection in the mirror—halfway through removing the prosthetics that aged her features—and allowed herself the smallest moment of reprieve.
This life she had built in secret, a life even the Dominion didn't know about, weighed heavily on her. "Gerard" was more than just a mask—it was a safeguard, a means to remain close to Ethan while staying hidden. The office, the quiet apartment, even the peculiar habits of a reclusive old man—all of it was part of her carefully constructed facade. This was her secret, one of many, and it allowed her to work in the shadows unnoticed. But this life was more than that too.
She glanced at the corner of her room where a small, nondescript folder sat—a reminder of the other identities she had created, the lives she had saved, the empire she had built away from the Dominion's watchful eye. It was her rebellion, quiet and invisible, saving those the Dominion had condemned unjustly, giving them new beginnings, and gathering them under her protection. Those who had once feared her now served her with unflinching loyalty. They had become her people, her hidden kingdom, almost as vast and wealthy as the Dominion itself.
But in this moment, she was just Luelle. And just for a moment, she wanted to forget about everything—the Dominion, her network, and even Ethan—so she could focus on undoing the adhesives that clung stubbornly to her skin.
Then came the knock.
It was sharp, insistent, cutting through the quiet like a blade. Luelle froze mid-motion, her fingers pausing just as they were about to peel the next prosthetic from her jawline. Her pulse quickened as the knock came again, followed by a voice that made her stomach twist.
"Mr. Aptos," Ethan's voice called, steady and firm, but not unkind. "I know you're home. Can we talk, please?"
Her heart raced. Ethan. Here. Now.
The scattered remnants of her disguise stared back at her from the counter, accusingly. Wig off. Makeup half-removed. Prosthetics in various states of disassembly. She was vulnerable, exposed. If she opened the door now, there would be no Gerard Aptos to greet Ethan—only her.
The knock came again, more deliberate this time. "Mr. Aptos?"
Forcing herself to breathe, Luelle called out in Gerard's gruff, gravelly voice, "I was about to take a shower." The words came out smooth despite the panic clawing at her chest.
There was a pause, long enough to give her a flicker of hope that he might leave. But then, Ethan's reply came, calm yet insistent. "It'll only take a minute. Please."
Luelle's mind raced as adrenaline surged through her veins. Ethan was relentless when it came to finding answers, and she knew he wouldn't go easily. If she didn't open the door, he'd grow suspicious. But she couldn't let him see her like this—not with the disguise incomplete, not with Gerard's persona threatening to unravel.
Her hands moved on autopilot, securing the wig over her hair in shaky, hurried motions. It wasn't perfect—stray strands poked out from underneath—but it would have to do. She grabbed the glasses, slipping them onto her face as she fumbled to press the prosthetics back into place. The adhesive was coming undone in patches, but there was no time to fix it.
"What is it you need?" she called through the door, her voice steady despite the chaos inside her.
"I need to ask you something," Ethan said, his tone lowering slightly. "It won't take long."
Luelle glanced at her reflection in the mirror. The version of Gerard staring back at her was a rushed, imperfect iteration of the meticulous disguise she had spent years perfecting. But it was better than nothing.
She took a deep, steadying breath and stepped toward the door. Her hand hovered over the doorknob, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Every instinct screamed at her to be careful, to stay in control. Ethan couldn't know. He could never know.
Her grip tightened on the knob as she readied herself to face the man she had spent her life protecting, all while keeping her truest self hidden in the shadows.
She opened the door just a crack, enough to let Ethan see a sliver of Gerard Aptos but no more. "What?" she snapped, her tone sharp, Gerard's irritation a perfect mirror of his hermit-like reputation.
Ethan stood tall in the hallway, his presence imposing despite his calm demeanour. His eyes fixed on the narrow opening, studying her—or rather, the persona she presented. "I need to come in," he said simply, his voice steady, determined.
"No," she said, tightening her grip on the edge of the door. "Go away. Whatever you need, I'll come to you later."
He frowned, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he weighed her response. "It'll only take a moment," he pressed. "I just need to check something."
"I said no," she snapped again, keeping her grip firm on the door. "I'm not dressed."
Ethan hesitated but didn't back down. "Fine," he said after a moment. "Then I'll wait inside while you get dressed. It won't take long."
Panic surged through her chest. He was pushing now, his hand brushing against the door as though testing her resolve. She couldn't let him in—not like this. Her heart raced, her mind scrambling for a solution.
But before Ethan could push further, another voice broke through the tense silence.
"Ethan," Rowan said, his tone measured, casual, yet firm enough to draw Ethan's attention. He appeared at the end of the hallway, flanked by two men dressed in discreet civilian clothing—security, undoubtedly.
Ethan turned his head slightly, irritation flickering across his features. "What?" he asked, his voice clipped.
Rowan approached, his sharp eyes flicking to Gerard's door for a brief moment before settling on Ethan. "I thought we agreed earlier to be thorough," he said casually, his words carefully neutral, yet laden with meaning only Ethan would fully understand. "Now's not the time to leave things to chance."
Luelle's heart skipped a beat, her grip on the door tightening further. Her mind raced to decipher the subtext of Rowan's words, but the meaning eluded her. She couldn't afford to focus on it now—she just needed to get through this moment without breaking character.
Ethan hesitated, his gaze shifting between Rowan and the narrow gap of Gerard's door. There was an internal debate playing out behind his eyes, the weight of unspoken concerns pulling at him.
Rowan didn't wait for a response. "The sweep's already started," he continued smoothly, nodding toward the two men with him. "We'll handle this."
Ethan exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. With a final glance at Gerard's door, he took a step back. "Fine," he muttered, though the frustration in his tone was clear.
Rowan lingered for a moment longer, his sharp gaze flicking back to the door as if to say something more. But then he turned, following Ethan down the hall with the two security men in tow.
Luelle waited, her breath shallow, until their footsteps faded completely. Only then did she let the door fall shut, her trembling hands gripping the cool surface as she pressed her back against it. Her heart pounded in her chest, the tension still coiled tightly in her veins.
She had narrowly avoided disaster, but the encounter left her shaken. Ethan's determination, Rowan's cryptic words—it all felt too close, too dangerous.
Luelle moved to the mirror, staring at her reflection. The rushed disguise stared back at her, a fragile facade that had barely held. She adjusted the wig and glasses, her hands trembling as she worked to restore the mask of Gerard Aptos. But the cracks remained, and she couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.
Ethan
Ethan stood in the hallway, his fingers brushing against Gerard's door as he debated whether to push it open further. The old man's resistance was frustrating, almost suspicious. Why was Gerard so unwilling to let him in? And why did Ethan feel so compelled to see the inside of his neighbour's apartment?
He couldn't explain it, but the feeling of being watched—the sense of someone lingering just out of sight—had gnawed at him for days. Gerard was an enigma, a reclusive figure who had lived next door for years yet remained a mystery. The desire to see the apartment wasn't just idle curiosity; Ethan wanted to understand the man, to piece together whether there was anything unusual about him or the life he led.
Just as Ethan's hand shifted, Rowan's voice cut through the air behind him. "Ethan," Rowan called, his tone casual but pointed.
Ethan turned his head, irritation flickering across his face as Rowan approached with two men in tow. They weren't strangers—security officers dressed in civilian clothing, discreet but efficient. Ethan frowned, the frustration from his encounter with Gerard spilling into his response. "What is it?"
Rowan's expression didn't change, his calm demeanour matching the subtle weight of his words. "Thought we agreed earlier to be thorough," he said, his voice neutral yet carrying enough meaning to remind Ethan of their conversation about feeling watched. "This needs to be done properly."
Ethan exhaled, his jaw tightening. He knew Rowan was right, but the timing couldn't have been worse. With one last glance at Gerard's door, he stepped away reluctantly. "Fine."
Rowan didn't say anything more, leading the security officers toward Ethan's apartment. The sweep began in silence, their trained eyes scanning for anything out of place. But as the minutes stretched on, Ethan's frustration grew. Nothing unusual had been found—no hidden cameras, no signs of tampering. The apartment was just as it had always been.
By the time they reached the living room, Ethan's thoughts had already drifted back to Gerard. The old man had been evasive, unwilling to answer questions or let him inside. It wasn't enough to accuse him of anything, but Ethan couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Gerard than the quiet, reclusive figure he presented.
The search concluded uneventfully, Rowan giving Ethan a brief nod to signal they were done. Ethan's mood hadn't improved, his curiosity about Gerard only growing stronger as he followed Rowan to the hallway to see him off.
It was then that Gerard's door opened, the sound of the hinges echoing through the quiet space. Ethan's gaze snapped to the old man standing in the doorway, his posture slightly stooped but his expression sharp.
"Young man," Gerard said gruffly, his tone carrying the faintest edge of disdain. "What is it you want?"
Ethan straightened, surprised by the sudden invitation but unwilling to back down. "I want to buy your apartment," he said, his voice calm but resolute. An excuse he thought off earlier when he decided to knock on Gerards door. "I need more space, and I've been considering expanding my place. Let me look at your rooms."
Gerard's eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. "The apartment isn't for sale," he said, his voice clipped. "But I'll keep it in mind if I ever decide to sell."
"Can I see it anyway, please?" Ethan insisted, his tone sharpening. "If I don't know what it looks like, will not know if my plans will work."
Gerard pulled his shoulders back, his displeasure evident. For a moment, Ethan thought the old man might shut the door on him entirely. But then, with a slight tilt of his head, Gerard gestured for Ethan to follow.
"Fine," Gerard muttered, his voice laced with irritation. "But don't take long."
Ethan stepped inside, his eyes scanning the space as Gerard led him through the apartment. The layout was simple: two bedrooms with ensuite bathrooms, a small office, an open-plan living room and kitchen, and a pantry tucked neatly to the side.
The furniture was expensive but understated, the decor plain yet tasteful. Signs of living were scattered throughout—books stacked on the coffee table, a blanket folded on the couch, a pair of reading glasses resting near a lamp. Gerard wasn't a neat freak, but the apartment was clean and strangely homey, an unexpected contrast to the aloofness of its occupant.
Ethan's eyes lingered on the pantry for a moment longer than necessary, his thoughts swirling as he searched for anything out of place. But there was nothing unusual about the space—just a well-kept apartment owned by a man who seemed to keep his life private.
"There," Gerard said, his tone flat as he gestured around the room. "Satisfied?"
Ethan didn't respond immediately, his gaze still taking in the details of the apartment. There was nothing suspicious here ,and yet, the feeling of unease still lingered, gnawing at the edges of his mind.
"Thank you," Ethan said finally, his voice even as he turned back to Gerard.
Ethan stood near the door to Gerard's apartment, his arms crossed as he cast one last glance around the room. The layout was simple, the decor understated, and everything about the space screamed ordinary.
He clenched his jaw, tension pulling at his shoulders as his gaze drifted to the pantry again, then the office nook, then the perfectly clean but lived-in kitchen. There was nothing suspicious here—no hidden agendas, no signs of surveillance, no evidence to suggest Gerard Aptos was anything other than a solitary old man living a quiet life.
Ethan felt his pulse thrum with frustration, his chest tightening as the realization settled in. This, too, had led nowhere. Another dead end.
He had felt so sure, standing outside Gerard's door, that he was on the verge of uncovering something—anything—that would explain the unease, the sense of being watched. And yet here he was, standing in an apartment that was just as it should be, with nothing to show for his efforts but the lingering suspicion that wouldn't let him rest.
Gerard's gruff demeanor and clipped responses only heightened Ethan's frustration. The old man hadn't been friendly, but neither had he given Ethan any reason to suspect him. He had allowed Ethan to inspect the apartment, albeit reluctantly, and there had been no signs of resistance or concealment beyond the initial hesitation to let him inside.
"Anything else, young man?" Gerard asked, his tone flat but edged with the faint annoyance of someone eager to be rid of a guest.
Ethan turned to face him, his jaw tightening as he suppressed the urge to demand answers he knew Gerard didn't have. "No, thank you" he said, his voice clipped, though his mind screamed for resolution.
As Ethan walked back into the hallway, his thoughts churned. He had checked the security footage. He had searched his own apartment. And now, he had inspected Gerard's place—all with the same result: nothing.