Echoes in the Ballroom

The World Security Summit was a carefully choreographed display of power, set beneath crystal chandeliers and gilded ceilings. Soft classical music masked whispered conversations, and uniformed guards lined marble corridors, watching every move. There were leaders, diplomats, and military officials all packed into a single room, pretending the world wasn’t falling apart.

Jessica had always hated events like this. Too much security. Too many eyes watching. But tonight, she needed to get close to Ambassador Daniel Mercer.

Close enough to confirm the truth.

* * *

The team had spent the morning gathering intel, dissecting floor plans, and watching for security rotations. Olivia, posing as a journalist, had managed to secure press credentials for herself.

Jessica and Leanna had no such luxury. They would have to blend in another way.

Leanna adjusted the cuff of her stolen event staff uniform. “You sure about this?”

Jessica, now dressed in a sleek black evening gown, something Hannah would have approved of, glanced at her in the mirror. “Not at all. But we’re out of safe moves.”

Leanna exhaled. “Great. Love the confidence.”

* * *

They moved separately. Olivia was already inside, working the press section, listening for anything unusual. Jessica and Leanna had slipped in through a service corridor, blending in with the caterers and event staff. Rome’s elite moved around them, oblivious. Then Jessica spotted Mercer.

The ambassador was speaking with a European diplomat, his expression calm, professional. But something was off. Mercer stood rigidly straight, gestures mechanically precise, his smile calibrated just a fraction too perfectly. When he laughed, it never quite reached his eyes. It remained cold, distant, rehearsed.

Jessica’s gut tightened. He looked normal. But so had the President.

She turned slightly, muttering into her concealed mic. “Visual on Mercer.”

Olivia’s voice came back, low and steady. “Get closer. See if he slips.”

* * *

Jessica made her move, drifting toward Mercer’s group as if casually moving through the crowd. No direct eye contact. No sudden movements. Then she heard his voice. Something about the cadence. The rhythm. It was familiar. Her breath hitched. She had heard that pattern before. Not from Mercer, but from herself. Back when she was Jason. Back when she was being rewritten.

She turned away sharply, breath catching painfully in her throat. Her pulse surged, memories clawing their way back, the clinical room, the monotone voice drilling words into her mind until she repeated them flawlessly. She blinked, forcing the ghosts away

Leanna’s voice crackled in her ear. “Jess? What’s wrong?”

Jessica exhaled slowly, gripping her champagne glass. “He’s compromised.”

A pause. Then Olivia’s voice, quiet but certain. “Then we’re not leaving until we find out how.”