Fatal Disclosure

The ballroom shimmered beneath grand chandeliers, light reflecting off crystal flutes and sequined gowns. Laughter mingled with murmured diplomacy, creating a deceptive tranquility.

Jessica had done a lot of things in her life. She had fought in the dark corners of the world, survived assassins, uncovered hidden truths that reshaped her very existence. She had lied, stolen, and killed. But she had never purposely seduced anyone.

And now, standing in the soft glow of the gala, a champagne flute dangling from her fingers, she was about to try.

Ambassador Daniel Mercer was already watching her, his gaze heavy with interest, the kind of attention that made her skin crawl. Men like him were predictable, seasoned politicians who believed their power made them untouchable, who collected favors the way others collected rare wines. The way he smiled, slow and confident, told her that he already considered himself the most powerful man in the room. He had no idea what kind of game he was walking into.

Jessica took a steadying breath, reminding herself that this wasn’t about her. This was about getting close, about drawing him in just enough to make him talk. But it felt wrong. It felt like wearing a stranger’s skin, playing a role that didn’t fit.

Still, she moved forward.

* * *

Olivia’s voice crackled in her earpiece, low and measured. “Let him come to you. Guys like this can’t resist a mystery.”

Jessica didn’t have to wait long. Mercer navigated the room with an ease that spoke of years in diplomatic circles, weaving between officials, shaking hands, trading smiles. But his trajectory was set. He was already making his way toward her.

She let him take her in, let the chandelier’s glow catch on her bare shoulder, the dark silk of her dress shifting subtly as she adjusted her stance. She felt ridiculous, but she forced herself to stay in character. This was a means to an end.

Mercer reached her, exuding a practiced charm. “You’re new here.”

Jessica let her lips curve, not too much, just enough. “That obvious?”

He smiled. “I know everyone in this room.” He lifted his glass, studying her over the rim. “And I never forget a beautiful woman.”

Jessica almost rolled her eyes but caught herself. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, feigning amusement. “Quite the skill.”

Mercer chuckled. “Among others.”

His tone made her want to break his nose. Instead, she sipped her champagne and met his gaze with deliberate slowness. “I imagine a memory like yours must be invaluable.”

Something flickered in his expression. He adjusted his cuff, his smile still in place but slightly tighter.

Jessica’s pulse quickened. It was a small reaction, barely noticeable. But it was there.

She turned slightly, angling them toward a quieter corner of the ballroom. “Tell me, Ambassador, how long have you been stationed in Rome?”

“A few years,” he replied smoothly. “Time tends to blur in this line of work.”

Jessica hummed. “I suppose. And before that?”

He hesitated. Just a beat too long. Then: “Washington.”

It was a safe answer, but Jessica caught the pause before it, the fraction of a second where his mind had stumbled. His programming was compensating.

She pushed further. “You must have seen a lot of changes over the years. Do you ever miss the early days?”

Mercer lifted his drink to his lips, but she saw it. There was the briefest flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “Sometimes. But nostalgia has a way of distorting things, don’t you think?”

Jessica let the moment hang, then offered him an easy smile. “I suppose that depends on what you remember.”

Another hesitation. Small, but noticeable.

She had him.

* * *

Jessica touched his arm lightly—calculated, deliberate. “It’s a bit loud in here.” She gestured toward the open doors leading to the terrace. “Would you mind some fresh air?”

Mercer glanced toward the exit, then back at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he nodded. “Of course.”

As they stepped outside, the cool night air tinged with jasmine from the terrace gardens wrapped around them, a stark contrast to the warmth of the ballroom. The city stretched beyond the marble railing, the glow of Rome flickering against the Tiber. Jessica’s skin prickled with awareness, every shadow suddenly sharp-edged.

Jessica leaned against the balustrade, watching him. “I have a confession.”

Mercer tilted his head. “Oh?”

She exhaled, feigning vulnerability. “Lately, I’ve been having… strange dreams. About a life I don’t remember.”

A pause. A careful sip of his drink. “That’s an interesting problem.”

Jessica turned to face him fully. “Is it?”

Mercer met her gaze. “What are you suggesting?”

She took a step closer, lowering her voice. “I think you understand.”

For the first time, he looked uneasy. He set his glass down with measured precision. “I think you’re mistaken.”

Jessica held her ground. “Am I?”

His breathing changed. His fingers tightened against the stone railing. His body was betraying him.

Then, just barely above a whisper, he muttered, “It happens at night.”

Jessica’s stomach clenched. “The dreams?”

His voice was barely audible. “I think… I think they’re memories.”

Her pulse hammered against her ribs. She knew this feeling too well. The weight in her chest was unbearable. He wasn’t a willing player. He was like her.

Mercer looked at her then, truly looked at her, his composure slipping, his mask cracking. His voice was raw, uncertain. “I think they did something to me.”

And then. A gunshot.

* * *

The force of the impact jerked Mercer forward. Blood sprayed across Jessica’s dress. For a split second, silence. Then chaos. Screams. Security scrambling.

Jessica barely had time to react before Olivia’s voice snapped in her ear. “Shooter. Get out, now.”

She didn’t freeze. She moved.

Leanna was already scanning the rooftops, searching for the shooter. Jessica wasn’t looking at Mercer’s body. She was looking at the figure retreating into the shadows, moving with precision.

Jessica’s instincts kicked in. She bolted.

She had seen that technique before. She knew this assassin. And now, she had to catch them.