MY DAUGHTER, THE ASSASIN

At 12:47 a.m., Eleanor Hayes woke to the sound of her front door opening. She sat upright in bed. For several seconds, she didn't move. The house was supposed to be silent. Her security team had been instructed not to allow anyone through the main entrance after midnight without notifying her. The staff quarters were on the opposite side of the estate, and the security cameras covered every entrance. Eleanor reached for the lamp beside her bed. Then she heard footsteps. Slow. Measured. Coming down the hallway. Her heart began to beat faster. She glanced at the digital clock again. 12:48. There was only one person who could enter the house at this hour without being announced. Her daughter. Sophia. Eleanor pushed the blankets aside and slipped into her silk robe. "Sophia?" No answer. She opened the bedroom door. The hallway was dark except for the faint golden light coming from the staircase. A figure stood at the bottom. Sophia. Her daughter was dressed entirely in black. Black trousers. Black boots. A black jacket zipped almost to her throat. Her dark hair was pulled into a low ponytail, and one hand held a small black bag. Eleanor frowned. "Sophia?" The young woman looked up. For a moment, their eyes met. Something was wrong. Eleanor had known her daughter for twenty-one years. She knew every expression on Sophia's face—the slight narrowing of her eyes when she was annoyed, the small smile she gave when she was pretending not to be amused, the way she looked away whenever she was hiding something. But the expression she saw now was different. Sophia looked empty. Not tired. Not frightened. Empty. As though whatever had happened tonight had forced her emotions somewhere Eleanor couldn't reach. "Where have you been?" Sophia's gaze moved briefly toward the grandfather clock. "Out." "At this hour?" "I lost track of time." Eleanor descended the stairs. "You're wearing black." Sophia looked down at herself. "So?" "So you left this house this afternoon wearing a white dress." Silence. Eleanor stopped halfway down the staircase. Sophia had changed. Not simply her clothes. Something about her entire presence had changed. She looked older. Colder. Dangerous. "Look at me," Eleanor said. Sophia did. "Where were you?" "I told you. I was out." "That's not an answer." "It is the only answer you're getting." Eleanor stared at her. Sophia had never spoken to her like that. Not once. Eleanor's voice softened. "Are you all right?" Sophia's expression flickered. For half a second, she looked like the little girl Eleanor remembered. The child who used to crawl into her bed during thunderstorms. The teenager who called her mother whenever she was frightened. The daughter who had once told her that no matter what happened, they would always have each other. Then the moment disappeared. "I'm fine." Eleanor stepped closer. "You're bleeding." Sophia froze. Her eyes moved to her left sleeve. A dark stain had spread across the black fabric. Because of the color, Eleanor hadn't noticed it immediately. Now she could. Blood. "You're hurt." "I'm not." "Then whose blood is that?" Sophia said nothing. Eleanor felt a chill travel down her spine. "Sophia." Her daughter slowly removed her jacket. She placed it over the back of a chair. "Go back upstairs, Mum." Eleanor didn't move. "Where did the blood come from?" "I can't tell you." The words landed harder than a scream. Eleanor stared at her daughter. "What do you mean you can't tell me?" Sophia looked away. "I mean exactly that." "You are my daughter." "I know." "I raised you." "I know." "I have protected you your entire life." "I know." "Then why are you standing in my house at one in the morning covered in someone else's blood?" Sophia's jaw tightened. "Because you wouldn't understand." "Try me." "I can't." "You don't get to decide what I can understand." Sophia looked at her mother again. There was something painfully familiar in her eyes. Fear. But Eleanor realized it wasn't fear for herself. It was fear for Eleanor. That frightened her even more. Sophia walked toward the kitchen. Eleanor followed. "Did someone attack you?" "No." "Did you attack someone?" Sophia stopped. The silence answered before she did. Eleanor's breathing caught. "No." Sophia closed her eyes. "Mum..." "No." Eleanor shook her head. "No. Whatever you're thinking, don't." "I wasn't going to say anything." "Good." Sophia opened her eyes. "Eleanor—" The use of her first name stopped Eleanor cold. Sophia almost never called her that. Only when something was seriously wrong. Eleanor stared at her daughter. "Why did you call me that?" Sophia didn't answer. Then a phone vibrated inside her pocket. She pulled it out. The screen showed a single message. TARGET CONFIRMED. Eleanor didn't see the words. But she saw Sophia's expression change. Sophia immediately locked the phone. "Who was that?" "No one." "Give me the phone." Sophia looked at her. "No." Eleanor's voice became firm. "Sophia." "I said no." The atmosphere between them changed. Mother and daughter stared at each other across the kitchen. Then Sophia's phone vibrated again. This time, Eleanor saw the screen. Another message appeared. ONE TARGET REMAINS. Eleanor's face went pale. "What does that mean?" Sophia didn't answer. "What does that mean, Sophia?" Her daughter slipped the phone into her pocket. "You need to forget what you saw." "I can't forget it." "You have to." "Who are you?" Sophia looked at her mother. The question seemed to hurt her more than anything Eleanor had said before. "I'm your daughter." "No." Eleanor took a step backward. "That isn't what I mean." Sophia's eyes glistened. "I know." "Who are you?" Sophia swallowed. Before she could answer, the lights in the house went out. Eleanor gasped. Darkness swallowed the kitchen. Somewhere outside, an alarm began to sound. Sophia reacted instantly. She grabbed Eleanor's wrist and pulled her down. "Get on the floor." "What—" "Now." There was something in her voice that made Eleanor obey. A second later, glass shattered somewhere upstairs. Eleanor screamed. Sophia covered her mouth. "Don't move." Another sound followed. A gunshot. Then another. Eleanor's entire body trembled. Sophia remained perfectly still. Too still. She wasn't surprised. She wasn't confused. She was listening. Waiting. As if she had done this before. Eleanor looked at her daughter in the darkness. "How do you know what to do?" Sophia didn't answer. A shadow moved across the doorway. Sophia reached into the black bag she had brought home. Eleanor's eyes widened. "What is that?" Sophia pulled out a handgun. Eleanor stared at it. Her daughter held the weapon with a calmness that made Eleanor's blood run cold. "Sophia..." "Stay here." "Where did you learn to use that?" Sophia looked at her. "From the people who raised me." Eleanor's heart stopped. "What did you say?" Sophia stood. "Stay here, Mum." Then she disappeared into the darkness. Eleanor heard footsteps. One. Two. Three. Then silence. A minute passed. Two. Five. Finally, the lights returned. Eleanor immediately ran toward the hallway. "Sophia!" No answer. She searched the entire ground floor. The doors were locked. The windows were intact. There was no sign of an intruder. Then she saw something on the floor. A small black envelope. Eleanor bent down and picked it up. Her name was written across the front. ELEANOR HAYES. Her hands began to shake. She opened it. Inside was a photograph. Eleanor looked at it. Then she nearly dropped it. It was a picture of Sophia. But Sophia wasn't alone. Standing beside her was a man Eleanor hadn't seen in twenty-one years. A man she had buried in her heart. A man she had been told was dead. Her husband. Victor Hayes. On the back of the photograph, someone had written four words. YOUR DAUGHTER REMEMBERS EVERYTHING. Eleanor stared at the message. Then she heard the front door close. She ran toward it. "Sophia!" Nothing. Her daughter was gone. And for the first time in twenty-one years, Eleanor understood something terrifying. The daughter she thought she knew had never really been hers alone. Someone else had been raising Sophia in the shadows. Training her. Preparing her. Turning her into something Eleanor had spent her entire life believing existed only in nightmares. Eleanor looked down at the photograph again. Victor's face stared back at her. Her hands trembled. "You're supposed to be dead." From somewhere outside the house, an engine started. A black car disappeared into the darkness. Inside it, Sophia sat silently in the back seat. Her phone vibrated. She looked at the message. THE LAST TARGET IS YOUR MOTHER. For the first time that night, Sophia's composure broke. "No." She stared at the words. Then another message appeared. IF YOU DON'T KILL HER, WE WILL. Sophia closed her eyes. A single tear slipped down her cheek. Because there was one thing her employers didn't know. Sophia Hayes had never been afraid of killing. But she was terrified of losing her mother. And now, for the first time in her life, she had been given a target she could never bring herself to eliminate. Her own mother.