POV: Celeste
The apartment was wrong.
I stood in the doorway staring at four empty walls, a mattress on the floor, and three cardboard boxes. That was it. That was everything Adrian had generously left me from our shared penthouse.
My furniture? Gone. My clothes? Three boxes worth. My art collection? Vanished.
The door slammed shut behind me. The sound echoed in the empty space.
This wasn't even a real apartment. It was a studio one tiny room with a bathroom smaller than my old closet. The building smelled like old food and mold. Water stains marked the ceiling.
Twenty four hours ago, I'd lived in a luxury penthouse. Now I was here.
I walked to the boxes and opened the first one. Random clothes Adrian clearly didn't want. Old jeans. Worn t-shirts. Nothing nice.
The second box held books and a few photos. Pictures of me and Mom before she died. I touched her face in one photo, my throat tight.
I'm sorry, Mom, I whispered. I ruined everything you left me.
The third box was smaller. I almost didn't recognize what was inside at first.
Then I saw the scarf.
Mom's scarf, wrapped around something hard and square.
My hands shook as I lifted it out. The fabric was soft and faded, covered in stars and moons. Mom had worn this scarf every day before she got sick.
I unwrapped it slowly.
The mirror gleamed underneath, even in the dim apartment light.
It was beautiful about the size of a book, with an ornate silver frame covered in strange symbols I'd never understood. The glass was perfectly clear, not a scratch or spot on it despite being centuries old.
The Mirror of Fate, I said to the empty room.
Mom had given it to me the week before she died. She'd been so weak then, barely able to sit up. But she'd grabbed my hand with surprising strength.
This mirror has been in our family for generations, she'd said. Thorne women only. Never let anyone else touch it.
What does it do? I'd asked.
It shows truth. When you look into it really look it shows you the final moments of your soulmate's death.
I'd laughed nervously. That's dark, Mom.
It's protection, she'd insisted. You'll know who your true soulmate is. You'll see their face. And you'll see how much they love you because they'll die thinking of you.
I hadn't believed her. I'd thought the cancer medication was making her confused.
And I'd never looked into the mirror. Not once in five years.
Because I'd thought Adrian was my soulmate. Why would I need to check?
Now I knew the truth. Adrian had never loved me. He'd used me, betrayed me, destroyed me.
So who was my real soulmate?
I sat on the mattress and held the mirror in my lap. My heart pounded so hard it hurt.
This is stupid, I told myself. It's just a mirror. An old family story.
But my hands were shaking.
I took a deep breath and looked into the glass.
At first, I just saw my own reflection. Tired eyes. Messy hair. I looked awful.
Then the glass rippled like water.
My reflection disappeared.
And I saw him.
The vision hit me like a truck. Suddenly I wasn't in my apartment anymore. I was standing in a beautiful room all marble and gold. People were screaming. Running.
A man stood in front of me. Tall. Dark hair. A face so handsome it almost hurt to look at. He wore an expensive suit that was now torn and bloody.
But his eyes were what stopped my breath.
Storm gray eyes. Looking right at me. Looking at me like I was the only person in the world.
Celeste, he said. His voice was deep and warm.
Then I saw the knife.
Someone behind me I couldn't see who was holding a blade. It was aimed at my heart. Coming fast.
The handsome man didn't hesitate. He threw himself in front of me.
The knife plunged into his chest instead of mine.
NO! I screamed, but he couldn't hear me. This was a vision. The past or the future, I didn't know.
Blood bloomed across his white shirt, spreading fast. Too fast.
He fell. I the vision version of me caught him. We collapsed to the floor together.
Why? Vision me sobbed, holding his face. Why did you do that?
He smiled. Actually smiled, even though he was dying.
Because I love you, he whispered. His hand reached up, touching my cheek so gently. I've always loved you. From the moment I first saw your face, I knew. You're everything.
Don't leave me, vision me begged.
Never, he promised. His eyes were getting dim. I'll find you. In every life. Every universe. I'll always find you.
His hand fell. His eyes closed.
He stopped breathing.
The vision shattered.
I gasped and dropped the mirror. It landed on the mattress, glass side up, showing only my reflection again.
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
My hands touched my face my real face and came away wet. I was crying.
Who was that? I whispered to the empty room.
I'd never seen that man before in my life. Never. I would've remembered a face like that. Eyes like that.
But according to the mirror according to Mom's legend he was my soulmate.
My real soulmate.
And he was going to die. For me. Saving me from a knife I didn't understand.
When? How? Why?
And the biggest question: if I'd never met him, how could I be in danger?
I picked up the mirror again with shaking hands. This time, my reflection stared back normally. No visions. No handsome stranger.
But I remembered every detail. His face. His voice. The way he'd said my name like it was precious.
Celeste.
Nobody had ever said my name like that. Like it mattered. Like I mattered.
A knock on my door made me jump.
I shoved the mirror under my pillow and stood up. Who is it?
No answer. Just another knock. Harder this time.
My heart raced. Maybe it was Adrian, coming to gloat. Or Vivienne. Or the landlord kicking me out because I couldn't pay rent.
I opened the door a crack.
A man in a black suit stood there. He was huge six foot something of pure muscle. His face was blank and professional.
Celeste Thorne? he asked.
Who's asking?
He held out a thick black envelope. Delivery for you, ma'am.
From who?
I'm not authorized to say. He pushed the envelope toward me. You're expected tomorrow morning. 8:30 AM sharp. A car will pick you up.
Expected where? By who?
But the man was already walking away, his footsteps echoing in the hallway.
I closed the door and stared at the envelope.
It was expensive the kind of paper rich people used. My name was written on the front in gold ink.
Inside was a single piece of cardstock.
Job offer. Personal Art Curator. Ashcroft Enterprises. Salary negotiable.
There was a phone number at the bottom.
Ashcroft Enterprises. I'd heard of them everyone had. They owned half the city. Hotels, restaurants, office buildings. The CEO was some mysterious billionaire nobody ever saw.
Why would they want me?
My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number:
We've been waiting for you, Ms. Thorne. Please accept.
I read it three times.
Waiting for me? That didn't make sense. I'd never applied for a job there. Never even thought about it.
How did they know where I lived?
How did they get my number?
I looked at the mirror under my pillow. Then at the envelope in my hands.
Twenty four hours ago, I'd had everything. Now I had nothing except an impossible vision and a mysterious job offer from a company I'd never contacted.
My phone buzzed again.
Another text: He's been looking for you for a very long time.
My blood ran cold.
He?
Who was he?
And how did they know about the mirror?