Three weeks before the wedding
The nightmare always began the same way—Elena Vasquez's face staring back at her from the laptop screen, lips curved in that cold, knowing smile. But tonight, the dream twisted into something worse. The face morphed, features shifting until Adelina was looking at Sarah Mitchell, then back to Elena, then to some horrible combination of both.
"Who are you really?" the voice asked, echoing from all directions. "Which life are you stealing today?"
Adelina jolted awake, her heart hammering against her ribs, sheets soaked with perspiration. The familiar weight of Nathan's arm around her waist grounded her immediately, his steady breathing a reminder that she was safe, that she was real, that she belonged exactly where she was.
"Another nightmare?" Nathan's voice was thick with sleep but instantly alert. His hand found hers in the darkness, fingers interweaving with the practiced ease of someone who had done this countless times before.
"The same one," she whispered, not trusting her voice to remain steady at normal volume.
Nathan shifted behind her, pulling her closer against his chest, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just below her ear. "Tell me what you need."
The simple question, asked without judgment or frustration despite the fact that she'd been waking him with nightmares for three weeks straight, made her throat tight with emotion. "I need you to tell me I'm real," she said quietly.
"You're real," Nathan murmured against her skin, his voice carrying absolute conviction. "You're Adelina Sarah Mitchell, the woman who chose to fight for herself when everyone else had given up. You're the person who turned trauma into purpose, who built a family from strangers, who taught me that love isn't about knowing someone's entire history—it's about choosing to write a future together."
His hands moved slowly, reverently, tracing the familiar map of her body—the curve of her waist, the line of her shoulder, the pulse point at her throat that always betrayed her emotions. "You're the woman who makes me coffee exactly the way I like it even though you prefer tea. Who stays up too late helping people she's never met because you can't stand to see anyone suffer alone."
Adelina turned in his arms, meeting his eyes in the pale moonlight filtering through their bedroom windows. Even in the darkness, she could see the depth of feeling there, the kind of love that had grown stronger through every trial they'd faced.
"What if she's right?" The question had been haunting her for weeks. "What if I am just stealing someone else's life?"
Nathan's expression shifted, becoming fierce with protective intensity. "Adelina, listen to me. I don't care if you're the consciousness of Elena Vasquez in Sarah Mitchell's body, or if you're some completely new person born from the combination of both experiences. I fell in love with your heart, your mind, your soul—not your DNA or your origin story."
He cupped her face in his hands, thumbs brushing away tears she hadn't realized were falling. "You are not stealing anyone's life. You are living the life you've built, with choices you've made, surrounded by people who love you for exactly who you are right now."
The sincerity in his voice broke something loose in her chest—a knot of fear and doubt that had been tightening for weeks. "How can you be so sure?"
"Because I've seen you make a thousand small choices that reveal who you really are," Nathan said, his voice soft but unwavering. "The way you comfort Marcus when he's struggling with his identity. How you never let Sebastian's sarcasm hide his pain. The patience you show every person who calls you for help, even when you're exhausted."
His lips found hers then, soft and warm and tasting like promise. The kiss was gentle at first, a reassurance, but it deepened as Adelina pressed closer, needing to feel connected to something real and solid and unchanging.
"I love you," she whispered against his mouth, the words carrying the weight of every fear she was choosing to set aside.
"I love you too," Nathan replied, his hands threading through her hair. "Let me show you how much."
What followed was tender and slow, a conversation conducted in touches and sighs rather than words. Nathan loved her like she was precious, like she was fragile but not breakable, like she was exactly what he had been waiting for his entire life. And in the warmth of his devotion, in the safety of his arms, Adelina finally began to believe that she deserved this happiness.
When she woke again, it was to sunlight streaming through the windows and the smell of coffee brewing downstairs. Nathan's side of the bed was empty but still warm, and there was a single white rose on his pillow with a note: Good morning, beautiful. You are exactly who you're supposed to be.
The simple gesture, so typically Nathan in its quiet romance, made her smile for the first time in days.
Downstairs, she found their chosen family gathered around the kitchen table, the easy domesticity of their morning routine a balm to her anxious soul. Marcus was attempting to explain cryptocurrency to Adriana, who was pretending to understand while Sebastian watched with barely concealed amusement.
"There she is," Adriana said warmly, jumping up to pull out a chair. "Feeling better?"
"Much," Adelina admitted, accepting the cup of perfectly prepared coffee that Nathan pressed into her hands along with a soft kiss to her temple.
"Good timing," Sebastian said, looking up from his tablet. "We need to discuss final arrangements for this weekend."
Adelina frowned. "This weekend?"
"The bachelor and bachelorette parties," Adriana reminded her with barely contained excitement. "Nothing elaborate—just a quiet evening to celebrate with family before the big day."
"Adriana," Adelina began, but Nathan cut her off with a gentle hand on her arm.
"It's already planned," he said with a smile. "And before you object, it's exactly what you would want—small, intimate, just us."
The fact that he knew her well enough to anticipate her concerns, to plan something that would bring her joy rather than stress, made her chest tight with emotion. "What did I do to deserve you?"
"You chose to trust me," Nathan said simply. "Even when you had every reason not to."
The conversation moved on to lighter topics—wedding favors and seating arrangements and whether Marcus was old enough in his current body to have champagne at the reception. But Adelina found herself watching the interactions around the table with new eyes, seeing not just the individuals but the bonds they had forged.
Sebastian catching Adriana's hand and holding it without conscious thought. Marcus laughing at something Nathan said, his expression relaxed in a way it rarely was around strangers. The way they all naturally included her in decisions, sought her opinion, treated her not as a guest in their lives but as a fundamental part of their family.
That evening, true to Nathan's promise, their celebration was perfectly suited to her tastes. The women gathered in the library while the men claimed the study, but the walls were thin enough that laughter carried easily between rooms.
"I have a confession," Adriana said as she poured wine into three glasses. "I've never actually been to a bachelorette party before."
"In this body or the previous one?" Adelina asked, then immediately felt guilty for the question.
But Adriana just laughed. "Either. Rebecca Morrison was apparently not much of a party person, and neither was I, originally. But somehow that makes this feel more special—like we're creating new traditions instead of following old ones."
Marcus had joined them after the men's gathering had devolved into what sounded like a heated discussion about sports statistics. "They sent me to ask if you have any board games," he said, but his eyes were bright with curiosity about their gathering.
"Stay," Adelina said impulsively. "Family doesn't have gender restrictions."
As the evening progressed, as they played games and shared stories and made plans for the future, Adelina felt something settle in her chest—a sense of belonging that had nothing to do with whose body she inhabited or whose memories she carried.
"Can I say something sentimental?" Adriana asked as the night was winding down, her cheeks flushed with wine and happiness.
"Only if you promise not to make me cry before my wedding," Adelina replied, but she was smiling.
"A year ago, none of us existed in the way we do now," Adriana said slowly. "We were all lost in different ways—you and I literally, the others emotionally. But look at us now. We found each other, we found love, we built something beautiful from the ruins of what came before."
She raised her glass, and the others followed suit. "To chosen family, to second chances, and to love that transcends every definition of impossible."
As they clinked glasses, as Marcus laughed and Sebastian appeared in the doorway to check on them with fond exasperation, Adelina felt a rush of gratitude so overwhelming it nearly brought tears to her eyes.
"I want to say something too," she said, standing slightly unsteadily. "Two years ago, Elena Vasquez thought she had her whole life planned out. One year ago, I woke up in a stranger's body thinking I had no life at all. But sitting here now, I realize that both of those women were wrong."
She looked around the room, meeting each pair of eyes in turn. "This is my life. Not the one I inherited or the one I lost, but the one I chose. And I choose all of you, every day, for the rest of whatever this existence brings."
The moment was interrupted by Nathan's voice from the study, carrying a note of urgency that immediately put everyone on alert. "Sebastian, you need to see this."
They found the men clustered around Nathan's laptop, their expressions grim. On the screen was a news article with a headline that made Adelina's blood run cold: "SINCLAIR HEIR'S FIANCÉE QUESTIONED IN FEDERAL INVESTIGATION."
"When did this go live?" Sebastian demanded, his fingers flying across his own keyboard.
"Twenty minutes ago," Nathan replied, his voice tight with barely controlled anger. "Someone leaked information about the federal investigation. They're claiming that Sarah Mitchell is wanted for questioning in connection with illegal medical experimentation."
Adelina sank into the nearest chair, her brief moment of happiness evaporating like morning mist. "The wedding," she whispered.
"We're not canceling anything," Nathan said immediately, moving to kneel beside her chair. "This is intimidation, pure and simple. Someone is trying to force us into hiding."
"Nathan, if I'm under federal investigation—"
"Then we face it together," he said firmly. "We have lawyers, we have allies, and we have the truth. More importantly, we have each other."
His phone buzzed with an incoming call from an unknown number. Without thinking, he answered it, putting it on speaker.
"Mr. Sinclair?" The voice was professional, official. "This is Agent Jennifer Walsh with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I'm calling to inform you that we have a warrant for the arrest of Sarah Mitchell, also known as Elena Vasquez, in connection with violations of federal statutes regarding consciousness transfer procedures."
The room went deadly silent. Adelina felt her world tilt on its axis, all the happiness of the evening crashing down around her.
"Furthermore," Agent Walsh continued, "we have reason to believe that Ms. Mitchell may not be the only affected party. We're requesting that all members of your household present themselves for questioning within forty-eight hours."
Nathan's grip on Adelina's hand tightened. "Agent Walsh, we'll be happy to cooperate through our attorneys. However, I should mention that we're planning to be married this weekend."
"I'm afraid that's not going to be possible, Mr. Sinclair. Ms. Mitchell is considered a flight risk. We'll be taking her into custody tomorrow morning."
The line went dead, leaving them all staring at each other in the sudden silence.
"So," Sebastian said finally, his voice carefully controlled. "I suppose we should discuss contingency plans."
But Adelina wasn't listening. She was staring at Nathan's laptop screen, where a new email had just arrived. The subject line made her heart stop: "From the Real Elena Vasquez."
She clicked it open with trembling fingers, and her own face filled the screen in an embedded video. But this Elena was different—perfectly composed, professionally lit, speaking with the authority of someone who had never doubted her own identity.
"Hello, Adelina," the impossible Elena said. "By now you've probably realized that your little fairy tale is coming to an end. The federal investigation, the media attention, the timing of it all—none of it is coincidental."
The Elena on screen smiled, and it was Adelina's own face twisted into an expression of cold satisfaction. "You see, I've been very busy these past two years. Building a life, establishing connections, gathering evidence. And now it's time to reclaim what was always mine."
The video paused, then cut to security footage that made Adelina's blood run cold. It showed her—or someone who looked exactly like her—entering a federal building, shaking hands with officials, signing documents.
"Tomorrow morning, when the FBI comes for you," the recorded Elena continued, "they'll find evidence that you've been impersonating a federal witness. That you've been living under a false identity, taking advantage of a grieving family, manipulating a vulnerable man."
Nathan's face had gone white with rage and understanding. "She's been setting you up," he breathed.
"The best part?" the video continued. "When you're arrested, when your true nature is revealed, I'll be there to comfort poor Nathan in his time of need. After all, who better to help him through this betrayal than the woman you've been pretending to be?"
The screen went black, leaving them all staring at their own reflection in the dark monitor.
"Well," Marcus said into the silence, his young voice carrying decades of hard-won wisdom, "I guess we know who's been pulling the strings."
But Adelina barely heard him. She was staring at Nathan, waiting for the moment when he would realize that everything they'd built together was about to crumble, that loving her had been the worst mistake of his life.
Instead, Nathan stood up, his expression settling into the same determined focus she'd seen him use in the most challenging business negotiations.
"Sebastian," he said calmly, "how quickly can you move assets offshore?"
"Give me two hours," Sebastian replied without hesitation.
"Adriana, can you pack emergency bags for everyone?"
"Already on it," she said, moving toward the stairs.
"Marcus, I need you to wipe every computer in this house and activate the emergency communication protocols."
"Nathan," Adelina began, but he cut her off by pulling her to her feet and kissing her with fierce, desperate intensity.
"We are not running," he said against her lips. "We are not hiding. And we are absolutely not letting some elaborate con artist destroy what we've built together."
"But the investigation, the evidence—"
"Can all be fabricated by someone with the right connections and resources," Nathan said grimly. "The question is, who is she really, and what does she ultimately want?"
As if in answer to his question, Adelina's phone buzzed with a text from the same unknown number that had called Nathan: "What I want is simple, darling. I want my life back. All of it. Starting with my fiancé."