Calla’s POV
Performing Cara in a room full of people who had actually known Cara was the most technically demanding thing I had ever done, and I once held a cover identity for eleven days in a country where I didn’t speak the language.
I had spent two weeks building her back up from the outside. Cara’s social history memorized: the names, the warmth calibrations, the three topics she reliably moved toward at charity functions, the two she reliably avoided. I had her posture, her pace, her particular way of entering a room without needing it to respond. I had assembled her carefully and worn her in the mirror until she sat over me without gaps.
What I had not accounted for was a room that had known the real Cara well enough to notice the gaps anyway.
The Hartwell gala was exactly the ki
