Chapter 1 Prologue: A Mission Gone Awry

• Alicia Miles darted through the dimly lit alleyways of Artasia's bustling capital, her heart pounding in her chest. The mission had been simple: intercept a courier carrying top-secret documents and bring them back to headquarters. Alicia had planned every step meticulously, but in a split second, everything had gone wrong. The courier, a nimble and surprisingly agile teenager, had slipped through her fingers like a ghost.
• "Stop! ABI!" she yelled, her voice echoing off the narrow walls.
• But the chaos of the night market drowned out her shouts. Vendors hawking their wares, children laughed and played, and the smell of street food filled the air, creating a sensory overload that hindered her pursuit.
• The teenager, wearing a red hoodie, had ducked and weaved through the crowd with ease. Alicia pushed through the throng of people, knocking over a cart of exotic fruits in her haste. The vendor shouted curses after her, but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop.
• Her pulse quickened as she saw a flash of red turn down a side street. Alicia picked up her pace, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She skidded around the corner, only to find herself in a maze of interconnected alleys. The shadows seemed to mock her as she frantically scanned for any sign of the courier.
• In her desperation, Alicia made a wrong turn and ended up cornered in a dead-end alley. The teenager had disappeared, and with him, the documents she had been sent to retrieve. She stood there, panting and frustrated, as the gravity of her failure sank in. It wasn't just a botched mission; it was a critical blow to her career.
• Back at headquarters, the atmosphere was tense. Alicia sat across from General Matthews, a stern figure with a perpetual scowl. The fluorescent lights flickered ominously, casting an eerie glow on the sparse room.
• "Special Agent Miles, this is unacceptable," General Matthews barked, slamming his fist on the metal table. "The intel in those documents was vital to our national security."
• Alicia winced, her hands clenched in her lap. " That’s not my title anymore, sir. I know I put us in an awkward position, sir. It was a mistake. Someone must’ve tipped them off and that’s how they were able to escape flawlessly.”
• The general's eyes bore into hers, his expression unyielding. "You're right. I'm reinstating you. You're my best agent that finally grew a pair to talk back. Must be losing my touch." He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a small vial containing a single, pale blue pill. He placed it on the table between them with a grim finality.
• "Luckily, we had caught that carrier and this is what we found on him plus several silver Apryae notes on him, most likely counterfeits. He said that this was his last pill and was getting more to sell here. His connect is from Paritnam."
• Alicia examined the pill closely and took out a pocket knife from her side leg strap. She grabbed a latex glove from the box that was in the room and reached inside the small glass vial to grab an innocent pale blue pill with green speckles littered everywhere.
• Alicia looked at it closely and sniffed it “this could almost pass off as the prescription drug Sudanol, the painkiller narc, but the only difference is the base color should be more beige than pale. What is this?”
• General Matthews walked over, taking the pill from Alicia's hand. He held it up to eye level and said, "This pill is called the Grim Reaper’s Helper, or Death’s Door on the street. It’s highly addictive and dangerous. Users need more without realizing it slowly shuts down their bodies. It releases chemicals in the brain, making users feel relaxed, uninhibited, falsely superior, and increase in libido. There's no safe antidote for the general pop. Once a user stops taking these pills, it's usually too late, especially with this potent concentration. Dealers sell these pills for $5,000 in silver notes to clubs and whatnot. The powder form is more common and goes for $120. Our Narc Unit and local police have found the powder on the streets and in illegal nightclubs. It's less addictive because it’s given in smaller doses. Users can be identified by swollen lips and yellow eyes, indicating liver damage. Dialysis only prolongs life, as the pill integrates into their bloodstream.”
• General Matthews slid a brown folder with red lettering CONFIDENTIAL across the silver metal table. "Your next assignment. We need your experience to infiltrate HubInc. We have reason to believe they're involved in money laundering and illegal drug trials. Those deadly pills, like the one you're holding, are hitting our streets and killing the vulnerable—students and the poor experimenting with drugs.
• A similar request was made on behalf of the newly appointed CEO, Tristan Duncan. One of our plants in their finance department informed him about suspicious activities in their shipping and receiving. HubInc is a powerful conglomerate with connections to their country’s government and top 50 clients. There's a lot of money and influence flowing through them, and an audit showed their accounts were too good to be true. We were right. Your cover will be as Tristan Duncan's secretary. Gather evidence, and don't get caught. You have three months to provide us with tangible information and evidence of illegal activity that we all suspect. Your old partner is also there because another case may involve HubInc as well, or it may all be connected."
• Alicia nodded, taking the folder. As she stood to leave, General Matthews added, "And Miles, no personal entanglements. You’re there to do a job, not to make friends."
• "Yes, sir," she said, turning on her heel and leaving the room.
• As she walked down the sterile corridors of the agency, Alicia couldn't shake the weight of the vial's presence. The Grim Reaper's Helper was a harbinger of death and destruction, spreading its poison across the city. This mission wasn't just about money; it was about making the netizens' safe in every corner and walk of life. With a determined set to her jaw, Alicia vowed to succeed. She had no other choice.
• A Week Later
• Tristian's Office
• Tristian Duncan sat at his desk, head in his hands, feeling the pressure mounting. His best friend and HR director, Micah Taylor, walked in, immediately sensing something was wrong.
• "Hey, man, you okay? Why are all your lights off and Larry Williams playing in the background? What's wrong? Let me guess, another chick got wise and knew that you're a workaholic billionaire. All work and no fun?" Micah asked, laughed and sat on the red leather couch in Tristian's office
• Tristian looked up, his face pale and drawn. "I have to marry Felicia Montgomery."
• Micah's eyebrows shot up. "What? Why? That was sudden! I thought yall broke up months ago?"
• Tristian took a deep breath, his mind drifting back to the first and only disastrous date with Felicia.
• **Flashback: The Date**
• Tristian had taken Felicia to a charming little restaurant on the boulevard. It was supposed to be a nice evening, but the moment they stepped out, things went sideways. Different men approached him, one after another, handing him business cards for therapists and suggesting self-help books. One even bolted down the street, screaming when he saw them together.
• "You have to understand," Tristian said, snapping back to the present. "It was like I had a sign on my back saying 'Help me.'"
• Micah chuckled, but stopped when he saw Tristian’s serious expression. "It can't have been that bad."
• "Oh, it was," Tristian insisted. "And it didn't stop there. Any time I tried to go on a blind date, Felicia would somehow find out and ruin it. Once, I went over to her house to talk things through. It was a nightmare. The entire place was pink, covered in lace and frills smelling like bubble gum, cotton candy, and wax with a hint of moth balls. Porcelain dolls everywhere, in every shape, dress, size, color, and she talked to them like they were her children."
• Tristian shivered at the memory. "It was like stepping into a twisted dollhouse."
• Micah shook his head. "That's intense, man. No wonder you're freaking out."
• "I can't marry her, Micah," Tristian said, panic creeping into his voice. "I need another plan. Another woman or identity. I think I can be a good chef or a car salesman."
• Micah leaned forward, a determined look in his eyes. "No! I need you to stay as my rich best friend. Do you know your name alone gets me into different clubs, invites, women. You're not ruining this for everyone! Don't be selfish, Tristian. Think of the little people i.e me. Think of my social life. Pfft. So...we will find you one. You don't have to go through this alone. I think I have just the answer."
• Micah walked out of the office to make a call.
• "So, we have a new hire and she is hot. Not your typical dating partner and she will technically be working under you...I do know that you don't condone office romance but I honestly think that she will fight the ticket. She's here highly recommended. She'll be up here in a few. But I also need to discuss another thing with you," Micah said and brought out his phone to send some documents to Trisitan's email.
• Just as they were deep in conversation, the door opened. Tristian turned to see a woman he had never seen walking in. She was strikingly beautiful, with a confident presence that immediately captivated him. He felt his breath catch, unable to take his eyes off her.
• "Alicia Miles," Micah said, standing up. "This is Tristian Duncan, your new boss."
• Tristian stood up, extending his hand. "Nice to meet you, Alicia."
• Alicia smiled, her eyes meeting him. "Nice to meet you too, Mr. Duncan."
• For a moment, Tristian forgot all about Felicia and the chaos she brought into his life. All he could think about was the stunning woman standing in front of him.