by Anna Antonia
A real person here, a flawless digital replacement there—it took a tremendous amount of time and resources to ferret out what was the true picture and what was a perfect fake.
Rumors flourished, elections were swayed, revolutions happened, and people could vanish while still maintaining a presence all thanks to hundreds of thousands of fake accounts.
What in my life was really mine anymore? How long had I lived in this false world, blissfully ignorant and believing I actually had control?
Maybe I don’t exist. Maybe I’m already dead and this is the skewed memories of a brain about to die.
Those thoughts scared me—at first. Now they were a constant, underlying drone.
Though it tortured me to lie to my family, I took guilty comfort in hearing their voices, and in knowing my Damian was bound to hear me. Despite causing him harm.
Because even without Marcus telling me explicitly, I knew these calls served a dual purpose.
One was to establish the fact that I was still alive. The other was to throw Damian off my scent. He could spend the rest of his life chasing dead-ends and still not come close to where I was.
Therefore, a queer tightening appeared in my stomach every time I called home. I always smiled extra wide during those conversations. I had to. Otherwise I’d break down and cry for him, beg for him to make this all go away.
And I wasn’t allowed the luxury of tears anymore.
Apparently, there was much for Marcus to do in order to fulfill his contract to Damian’s father. Me? I just had to pose and smile on command.
At first, I attempted to be more than just a grinning fool. I poked around, asking Marcus what I could do to help speed the process along. Marcus politely, but bluntly, told me, “There’s nothing for you to do at the moment, Miss Kelly, other than practice on the drawings. Beyond that, take this opportunity to rest up. You’ll be busy soon enough.”
Strange how much that stung me. It didn’t take much for me to deduce why. Damian didn’t want my help, going so far as to lie to keep me in the dark. Apparently, Marcus didn’t need it either.
Doing nothing but waiting brought out the worst in me.
After the first week in isolation, my days stretched out into a familiar monotony. This plan that I was a part of, this great role I had to play in helping free the man I loved, didn’t feel like a plan at all.
It felt like hiding because it was. What else being called buried alive in this tomb, far underground? Daily I wondered what would happened if the elevator cable broke. How would we get out?
I asked Marcus once. He simply smiled and continued on with his work.
When he wasn’t stuck to his machine for eighteen hours a day, Marcus did his best to keep me occupied—of a sorts. He’d known we were going to end up in this bunker and had prepared for it.
I was no longer unnerved at how thorough his reconnaissance of my life had been. He’d already outfitted my room with books by my favorites authors, and movies I’d watched too many times to count. I appreciated his thoughtfulness, despite having no access to the outside world outside of make believe.
I wasn’t allowed to watch the news or read newspapers or get online.
In fact, other than the phone calls I made on the computer to my parents, I was completely cut off from the outside world.
It drove me crazy, bit by bit.
I didn’t really want to eat anymore. By week two I didn’t get out of bed unless I was forced to. What was the point? I’d come to help Damian by fulfilling his father’s plan, but instead I’d been cut off with nothing but my thoughts for company.
Which were hardly good.
Fear and uncertainty overwhelmed me. I replayed those last days with Damian, wincing with each unkind word I’d thrown at him. I doubted my decision and my ability to fulfill it. I was already breaking under the weight.
How was I ever going to be of any use?
Grigor, you’re probably already regretting your faith in me. I don’t blame you. I thought I’d be better than this and it turns out I’m not.
One would’ve thought my kidnapper would’ve been thoughtful enough to leave me to my misery but no.
Marcus forced me out of bed and made me sit with him while he talked. Anything he spoke of could’ve been false or could’ve been real. I didn’t know. And as time went on I didn’t care.
The world had shrunk to two people: me and Marcus. But a ghost inhabited this purgatory state I had fallen into.
I thought of Damian constantly. I wondered where he was, what he was doing. Was he thinking of me? Was he keeping up with business? What did he have for dinner that day?
I began to spin fantasies of me and Damian together.
I imagined what life would’ve been like if he was indeed a normal man. Would we be engaged by now? I would’ve liked to think so. I imagined planning my wedding, fantasizing about all the little things that went along with it.
We’d be married in the church I grew up in. My cousin’s twins would make the cutest flower girl and boy. I’d ask my college girlfriends to be my bridesmaids, but only if Damian had groomsmen.
My dad would give me away, unable to keep from crying as we went down the aisle. Of course, this would make me cry too. Damian would note all of this with a solemn expression, but the gleam in his silver eye would give away how adorable he found us both.
Damian would then take me by the arm, tucking me close to him, and stand there proudly as we exchanged our vows. I’d have one set for public and another for just the two of us.
The minister would speak of eternal bonds of matrimony while I stood next to this man I loved with all my heart. I’d look up at him, unable to keep from grinning at just how lucky I was to have found him.
Then the time would come. Damian would lift my veil and lean far down to kiss me. Nothing too passionate, but just enough as a promise for the night to come. The minister would announce our married names and we’d march down the aisle together, smiling for all to see the new Mr. and Mrs. Damian Black-Price.
My fantasy always hit a snag at this point. Black-Price or Konstantinov?
And just like that, I’d plummet back to reality. Each time it happened I’d scramble mentally to get back to my dreamland, frantically imagining the reception and our first dance. Sometimes it worked, but more often than not, I was left to suffer in the absence of that gorgeous fairytale.
This was unhealthy for sure. But it was all I had left in this world where I lived underground. Far from anyone. Far from the man I loved.
Especially when I was in the company of someone who mimicked the very things I’d cherished in Damian.
Marcus was fastidious in making sure my new ink healed. He checked on it more than he checked on me I imagined. After all, someone had to take care of the billion dollars worth of research that lay nestled inside my body.
It also went beyond that.
I dropped weight by the end of week two. Marcus noted it with a frown, telling me, “You need to take better care of yourself, Miss Kelly.”
I might’ve told him to fuck off. In vivid, crude detail.
From that day on he took to weighing me daily along with taking my temperature. He even drew my blood once a week, taking it back to his workstation in the warehouse. I should’ve been outraged by the gross invasion of privacy. What I weighed or didn’t weigh, my temp, my bloodwork—all of it—was my own goddamned business. Not his.
But as I began to learn from the moment I laid down on that dirty desk, I no longer belonged to myself.
I belonged to an idea, a plan. Marcus had informed me I was a pawn in this game, but that I could be the Queen. I didn’t feel like a queen. I couldn’t even say I felt like a pawn.
I was a thing. A tool if I was being generous. A doll if I wasn’t.
Marcus ensured I ate, even if mechanically. He broke out the frozen meat to go along with the canned vegetables. My meals became a medley of flavor, but it couldn’t tempt me away from my inner life.
; All I wanted to do was retreat in my mind and imagine a world where none of this ugliness existed. One where Damian and I were free to love each other, to live a life together. I knew it would’ve been so good.
Hope, the utter faith in a future that had yet come, in a forever that wasn’t here, that was what kept me going.
It was all I had left in a world with no color except for a green screen.
Colorless days all came to an end when Marcus came to me and simply said, “It’s time.”
“Time for what?”
Marcus smiled. He answered softly, “We’re leaving.”
This was different. It was a difference I wasn’t sure I was okay with.
As much as I disliked being stuck underground with no one for company except Marcus, books, and the occasional movie, this had become my new normal.
Heart beating hard in my chest and nervousness making my voice high and breathy, I struggled to answer. “Where are we going? Are we going to see Damian?”
Marcus handed me a pile of clothes. “And what if you are?”
I didn’t know how to answer that. I wanted to see him, of course I wanted to see him, but seeing Damian wasn’t a simple thing. It meant other things that were far from simple.
Scary things.
Things were moving in motion. I was being called upon to do a thing I didn’t understand. Which meant Damian was in the crosshairs.
I wanted it to be over, absolutely, but fear made a nest in my heart.
What if I can’t do it? What if I fail?
Marcus trapped me beneath a steady stare. Although his expression remained pleasant, I had spent enough time with him to see he weighed and debated what the best course of action was to take with me. This only made me more nervous.
“I would’ve thought you’d be excited to finally be leaving this place.”
“I would be if I knew where I was going.”
Marcus nodded his head. “We’re going to New York.”
Excitement fluttered through my veins. New York was where Damian was! Or at least where he could be. Maybe it wasn’t going to be scary after all. Maybe this was a treat for good behavior.
“Are you letting me go back home?”
“For a little bit of time.” Marcus gestured around the room. “You’re wasting away here, Ms. Kelly. Not only am I a babysitter but I’m also apparently playing the part of a nursemaid. I think we both earned a break, don’t you?”
A smile danced on my lips. The fog I had existed in, the false world I’d taken refuge in, faded away with the promise of something much better.
Damian.
“Will I really get to see him?”
I didn’t dare think I’d get to talk to Damian or be in his presence. If I could just see him I knew I’d feel a million times better. Obviously, I didn’t forget why I was doing this, never that, but if I could just see him, I knew it would give me the strength to continue in this colorless world that had become my prison.
I knew better than to think my part in this plan was done.
But maybe, just maybe, I’d get a tiny break, a chance to feel a little bit normal. To be just like everyone else going about their lives, blissfully ignorant to the bad things waiting if you came too close to the dark side.
I smiled.
“There’s finally a bit of color in your cheeks, Miss Kelly. Get ready. Quickly. We have a long flight ahead of us.”
25
I’d been on a series of private jets for the past three days.
We crisscrossed the globe, using aliases for each leg of the journey. Marcus even went so far as to put me in a wig and apply a prosthetic for my nose. That wasn’t the worst of it. He deftly applied a balm to my lips which made them look bee stung within minutes.
“It’ll help fool facial imaging software.”
Once I would’ve made a crack about paranoia, but not anymore.
Each time I thought I knew what true fear was, life managed to up the ante.
Finally, we arrived in New York by nightfall. Arranging my wig and slipping on tennis shoes equipped with lifts to give me an extra three inches, I followed Marcus off the plane.
We immediately entered a limousine which took us to a busy street corner. “We’re going to get out here?”
“Yes.”
The driver opened the door, giving me his hand. I took it with trepidation, eyes busily scanning the sidewalk for attackers. No one appeared to be paying attention to me, but I couldn’t be for certain.
It was too loud and there were too many people. I felt oversensitive after a month of near silence. Locking my legs, I took a moment to calm my careening senses. This heightened awareness was just another change in me. Grim, I wondered what else would happen.
Marcus took my arm and steered me to a nondescript building. We entered it easily, descending down into the bowels of place before emerging in front of a train five minutes or so later.
Eyes wide and wary, I wondered where exactly we were. It didn’t look like a subway open to the public although I knew Grand Central Terminal was nearby. Marcus placed a hand on my back, smoothly urging me forward. He waved me on before taking the controls. It felt like we were on it for only a minute before we exited inside a basement.
The eerie silence kept me on his heels. I doubted Damian would be hanging out in and empty space. At least, I hoped he wasn’t.
“Damian isn’t…ah, down here. Right?”
“No. He’s not tied up to a chair with a bow on top. Although you might like it, hmm?”
“No comment.”
Marcus chuckled. He confidently led us further up until we spilled into a magnificent lobby.
Magnificent and empty.
“Where is this?” I asked in hushed awe, reluctant to disturb the silence.
“The Waldorf.” Marcus strolled to the elevator. Looking over his shoulder, he teased, “I thought we should take the stairs, but that would be rather unkind to you. Unless you want the exercise?”
“No.” I looked around in awe. “You’re serious. The Waldorf.”
“The very one.”
“Where is everybody?”
“I drugged them and stuffed them in the kitchen…I kid. The Waldorf is undergoing renovation for the next three years. Lucky you.”
“Lucky. Right.”
“You’ll see.”
After a long ride up, Marcus led me to a door on the 35th floor. “You’re lucky because this, Miss Kelly, is the Presidential Suite. Every president since Hoover has stayed here. Queen Elizabeth II and Emperor Hirohito has as well. And now you get to. For only a bit, but it still counts.”
The plaque on the door proved him right. Surreal as the last month had been, I was impressed. Silly as it may have been, I acutely felt horribly undressed. I was sure jeans, t-shirts, and tennis shoes weren’t on the acceptable dress code for one the Waldorf-Astoria’s famous suites.
Marcus whistled, jogging over to a dining room table that was a little smaller than I expected. He reached under, muttering, “Where are you…ah there you are.” He pulled out a gun, holding it in the air with a smile.
I quickly looked away, not wanting to delve too deeply why he needed that particular weapon when he had plenty.
“Relax, Evangelina. I’m not going to shoot your Damian with this. I’m just retrieving my property.”
I startled, still trying to accustom myself to the last alias Marcus provided for me. “I’m sure you won’t. I’m fine. Really, John.”
“Great.”
Marcus then went into the bedroom, leaving me alone in the sitting area. Looking around, I discreetly scratched my nape. The wig itched. I couldn’t wait until it went back into its bag.
I’d spent enough time with Marcus to know he wasn’t the least bit interested in me sexually, so being here alone with him didn’t worry me. But I was curious.
Why didn’t he just take me straight to Damian? Or rather, wherever Damian was. I was sure Marcus already knew precisely where he was.
&
nbsp; Marcus came out of the room a scant minute later, gun nowhere in sight. “Why don’t you freshen up, Miss Kelly? It was a long flight and I’m sure you’d rather change into something prettier.”
Curiosity morphed into wariness.
“Why?”
“Don’t look at me that way,” he admonished with a boyish pout. “I thought we’d moved from automatic suspicion to something a bit like less suspicion.”
“Sure. Remind me why we’re here and where we’re going next?”
Marcus crossed his hands in front of him, low, like a manservant. He even gave me a small bow.
“I’ll tell you as soon as you freshen up.”
I stared at him, clenching my jaw several times. “I’m wasting my time trying to get anything out of you, aren’t I?”
He smiled. “You’ll find new clothes in the bag. Although I hate to be pushy, can you please be ready within a half hour?”
Sighing, I tugged at my hair. “Sure. Do you need to take my nose off first?”
“No. It’ll come off once you wash your face. Just leave it on the counter and I’ll be sure to get it before we leave.”
I went into the bedroom, not even bothering to take note of the décor other than to say it was as elegantly appointed as the room I’d just left. Stripping down in the bathroom, I got the enormous shower going.
Thoughts of the famous and powerful who showered here before me fled as fatigue caught up. If I had to count my blessings, I’d say how wonderful it was to unlimited water after the last month. While I’d been able to clean up every day, our rationing meant I only had five minutes.
Although by the looks of it I won’t have much more here.
My tired body urged me to lean against the tiles and let the water wash me clean. I gave in for a minute or two. Why were we here in New York? I knew it was because of Damian, but no matter the hours alone in the air, Marcus and I barely spoke.
He was confident the planes were clean, but better safe than sorry.
Which meant I couldn’t talk about Damian at all.
What if I get to see him? Maybe I’ll get close enough to touch him.