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MAKAYLA POV

Her fingers leisurely yet with impatience, tapped the table. He was supposed to be here.

9:00pm. Her glittering gold watch read. Her frown deepened. She was hungry-- very for that fact and her father, adopted, wasn't here for the dinner at a luxury suite, that he himself invited her to. If she didn't love the man, she would've left. This was an insult!

Her jaw ticked as the faint ticking of her watch filled her eardrums. Where was the damn man?! Again, she repeated, if she didn't love this man, she would've left.

Picking up her glass of exotic champagne, her perfectly manicured fingers played with the glass, her reflection becoming visible to her eyes. Her excellently carved eyebrows, eyes, lips; lips that never smiled, nose and the outlines of her face. Those weren't hers. It belonged to another-- a dead another.

This face wasn't hers.

Life, oh life and it's little petty quirks.

Five years ago, everything was different. Her face, character, everything was different.

Makayla was different.

The day the tragedy turned her life in a route she would've never imagined. Not that she hated it. A fatal car crash that should've left her dead, just like the original owner of this face.

She remembered, opening her eyes to bright white lights, with doctors and nurses over her, watching, saying what she couldn't fully comprehend.

She did remember the doctors plain sentence. She has awoken. That meant a lot. She has awoken symbolized the beginning of the life of new Makayla.

Till this day, when she stood before her mirror, and her full view came to view, those words echoed through her eyes.

She has awoken. It never came with a smile. It shouldn't.

A man came in soon after. Old looking, not too old, middle sixties, with a smile, the smile of a father seeing his daughter. He called her Makayla. At times, apart from her face, she knew he saw his former daughter in her. It didn't upset her, rather, she was glad. She took him as her own father, her saviour, and the warmth in his eyes when he saw her, talked to her, hugged her was something incomprehensible. She wanted it. She felt safe with it, accepted.

Who, what she was cannot be remembered, sadly, yet not so sadly. Not even a name to her past self, not even a dream, a memory to bring comfort.

She has awoken.

Waking up from that hospital bed, was her new birth. Rebirth as they liked to name it. Whenever she tried to recollect, her head always hurt, maybe her past was like that. Filled with hurt and that's why it's hidden, vanished, probably never to return.

9:20. Bringing the champagne to her lips, she poured and gulped, her taste buds reviving to life as the delightful champagne met with it.

She ordered for another, patiently waiting for her saviour. He was rich, her father, filthy for that matter and gave her whatever she pleased, desired. Pampered she might say. She was particularly thankful he didn't hide the truth of her existence from her.

Two days later after she had woken up, he sat with her and they had a long chat. Still, he called her Makayla. That meant acceptance. A stranger, then, gave her that.

With time, she grew into her rebirth as Makayla, quite well.

Her father taught her the grace and effortless yet powerful way of dominance.

9:25.

A being who dominates it's own kind can rule, achieve, manipulate anything, anyone.

Dom. She was a dom, proudly.

At first, it sounded off, weird. Now twenty seven, experienced, and cultured, she fully understood why and oh, she was grateful. She had that aura of rich, dominating and should be feared wherever she went and with who she met. That's the main reason, she's very powerful, both money and otherwise.

9:30.

Still, there was something missing, a thing that she couldn't figure out. Anyone who knew her, knew she never had a smile on her face. There wasn't a reason to.

There was a sadness that all the money, power couldn't give her. She knew it was because of her forgotten life. She wanted to know who she was. Maybe she had a family. Family.

Maybe.

And now, they wouldn't know she was alive, and even if she managed to find them, they still wouldn't know her. She had changed.

She was-- is Makayla.

Her former face had also burned away, not managing to give a small glimpse of who she really was-- is.

Life and it's petty quirks.

Her soul was incomplete. Something was missing, and no one could find it.

9:35

Makayla decide it was time to go home, to the comfort of her bed, to her comfort zone.

KNOX POV

He continued to scroll down until he got to her picture, "Oh!" He exclaims. "That ass." He smiled to no one but himself

"Makayla Adamson." He breathed out.

He continually checked the file that contained everything he needs to know about his next "target"

Name: Makayla Adamson

DOB: February-02-1990

Age: 27years

Height: 5ft9

Weight: 56kg

Genotype: AA, O- (negative)

Eye color: Gemstone green

Hair color: Wavy brown

"Brunette." He grinned and continued to browse through the file.

Skin color: Tawny

No disorders, no disability.

He read through the remaining papers, placed it back on the counter then stood and walked out of the kitchen to the living room balcony.

The cool afternoon sun blew against his olive skin tanned body.

Knox took some sip of his vanilla cream, his mind dashing to Corey Argento, his father who gave to him all the wealth he had today, although it was generational.

Every member of the Argento family are known in America to be the richest family. The name is not just known in America alone, but in every country that is associated with them.

La gambilia La Argento, Argento Hotels and Suites, Argento Restaurant, Argento Auto mobile company...and the list goes on.

Only that, people didn't know that the Argentos were the greatest con artist.

Pick an Ace or a King card and they'd end up switching it out of your hand until you.

"Ding Dong" The door bell rang.

He groaned.