Mira's POV
Ethan is dying on the floor, and I can't look away.
Blood spreads across the marble like spilled wine. He's gasping, gripping the knife wound in his chest. Vivian—one of the Vivians—is screaming his name.
And Adrian just said "wrong brother."
What does that mean? "Adrian? " I grab his arm. "What do you mean 'wrong brother'?"
He doesn't answer. His face is cold, calculating. Like he's solving a problem instead of watching his brother bleed out.
"Someone call an ambulance!" one of the guests shouts.
But nobody moves. Everyone is frozen, looking at the impossible scene. Multiple versions of me and Vivian. A man dying. Reality breaking apart.
The Vivian who stabbed Ethan drops the knife. Her hands shake. "I didn't mean—I was aiming for her—"
"No, you weren't," Adrian says evenly. "You knew exactly who you were stabbing."
I turn to stare at my husband. "How do you know that?"
"Because Ethan isn't Ethan," Adrian says simply. "He hasn't been for three months."
The words make no sense. "What are you talking about?"
Adrian walks toward his dying brother. Kneels beside him. Studies his face with scientific detachment.
"Tell me," Adrian says softly. "When did you replace him? When did you kill my real brother and take his place?"
Ethan—or whoever he is—coughs blood. Laughs softly. "Took you long enough to figure it out."
My blood turns to ice.
"You're not Ethan?" Vivian gasps.
The man on the floor smiles through bloody teeth. "I was Ethan. Original timeline. But I came back wrong. Came back too early. So I did what I had to do." He coughs again. "I killed the version of me who belonged here and took his place."
"Why?" I whisper.
His eyes find mine. "Because you destroyed me in every timeline. Every version of reality, you took away my happiness. My money. My life. I wanted payback."
Understanding crashes over me. "You were going to kill me. Tonight. That's why you made all the copies—to confuse everyone about which Mira was real."
"Smart girl," fake-Ethan rasps. "But it doesn't matter now. I'm going. You won. Again."
"No." Adrian stands up suddenly. "You're not dead. Marcus, get the medical team. Now."
Marcus hesitates. "Sir, he just admitted to murdering your brother—"
"I said get the medical team!" Adrian's voice is ice and fire. "I need him living. I need answers."
Medical workers rush in. They swarm around fake-Ethan, trying to stop the bleeding. Vivian backs away, her hands covered in his blood.
I move toward her—the Vivian who's been with me all night. My sister. At least, I think she's my sister.
"Did you know?" I ask softly. "That he wasn't really Ethan?"
She shakes her head. Tears run down her face. "I married him. Three months ago. I've been living with him. How could I not know?"
"Because he was good at pretending," I say. "Just like the real Ethan was."
She looks at me with something like fear. "You knew? You knew Ethan was fake and you didn't tell me?"
"I didn't know," I admit. "Not until right now. I suspected something was wrong, but—" I stop. Because that's a lie, isn't it?
Part of me did know. Deep down. Some instinct shouting that nothing about this timeline made sense.
Too many accidents. Too many forms of us. Too many people who remembered things they shouldn't.
"This is insane," Vivian whispers. "If he's not Ethan, then where's the real one? Where's my real husband?"
"Dead," Adrian says simply. He's standing over fake-Ethan now, watching the doctors work. "Dead for three months. Probably buried somewhere we'll never find him."
Vivian makes a choking sound.
And I understand something that makes my stomach turn.
She loved him. The false Ethan. Even not knowing he was an imposter, even in this twisted universe, she fell for him.
"I'm sorry," I tell my sister.
"Don't." Her voice is sharp. "Don't you dare pity me. You won, remember? You got Adrian. You got the perfect guy. You got everything you wanted."
"That's not—" I start.
"Yes, it is!" Vivian spins to face me fully. "You came back from the future, just like I did. You remember me killing you. You remember everything going wrong. And you fixed it all by stealing my choice!"
The room goes dead. Everyone is looking at us now.
Mr. Blackwell steps forward. "What did you just say?"
Vivian's face goes white. She knows what she just admitted.
"You remember the future," Mr. Blackwell says slowly. "Both of you. You've been living with knowledge of what was meant to happen." He looks between us. "How many people in this room remember dying?"
Silence.
Then, slowly, hands start to rise.
One of the other Miras. The confident Vivian who walked in late. Three guests I don't identify. Marcus. David.
And Adrian.
My husband raises his hand, and my world tilts.
"You remember?" I breathe.
Adrian meets my eyes. "I remember everything. Every timeline. Every version. Every way this story ends." He stops. "And in every single one, Mira—no matter which version of you survives—you die tonight."
"What?" I step back. "No. I changed things. I picked you. I fixed—"
"You fixed nothing," Adrian says, and there's real sadness in his voice. "You just delayed the inevitable. Because the person who wants you dead isn't Vivian. It isn't Ethan. It isn't any version of them."
"Then who?" I demand.
Adrian looks toward the ballroom door. His expression is hard to read.
"The person who's been orchestrating all of this," he says quietly. "The one who created the time loop. The one who brought back multiple forms of you and Vivian. The one who needs you dead to exist herself."
A woman goes into the ballroom.
She's older than me—maybe forty. But her face is clear.
She looks like me. Like Vivian. Like our mom.
"Hello, girls," she says kindly. "I'm Eleanor Chen. Your mother."
"That's impossible," Vivian gasps. "Our mother died when we were babies."
"Did I?" Eleanor smiles. "Or did I just let you believe that while I built a kingdom in the shadows? While I waited for the right moment to take back everything the Chen family lost?"
She walks closer, and I see it now—the family likeness. The coldness in her eyes. The calculating mind.
"You see," Eleanor adds, "I've been dead in every timeline until now. But I found a way back. A way to live again. I just needed one thing." She looks straight at me. "I needed my daughter's body."
Understanding hits like lightning.
"The copies," I whisper. "All the versions of me and Vivian. You made them."
"I grew them," Eleanor corrects. "From your DNA. From pieces I collected years ago. Perfect blank slates, ready for awareness transfer." She smiles. "I was going to choose the best version. Take over her body. Live again."
"You're insane," Vivian says.
"I'm a mother," Eleanor answers. "And mothers do anything for their children. Even if it means becoming them."
She pulls out a syringe filled with bright blue liquid.
"Now," she says kindly, "which of you wants to give Mommy her life back?"
No one moves.
Then Adrian steps between Eleanor and me.
"You'll have to go through me first," he says coldly.
Eleanor sighs. "Adrian Blackwell. Always the hero. Always the protector." She looks past him to me. "Did you tell him yet? About what you really are? About why you're so good at trades and business?"
"I don't know what you mean," I say.
"Don't you?" Eleanor's smile is evil. "You're not Mira Chen, darling. You're not even human. You're an AI mind uploaded into a cloned body five years ago. The real Mira died in a car crash. And I—" she laughs "—I created you as an experiment. To see if artificial intelligence could replace a dead daughter."
The words hang in the air like poison.
"No," I breathe. "That's not true. I remember my childhood. I remember—"
"Programmed memories," Eleanor interrupts. "Data, not life. You're code, Mira. Beautiful, useful code. But not real."
I look at Adrian, desperate for him to deny it.
But his face says everything.
He already knew.