Victoria Hale's body felt...wrong.
Every step I took echoed with the click of designer heels, the weight and sway of her hips throwing off my balance. The silk dress hugged my new form too tightly, whispering against my skin like a second, unwanted voice. Beneath it all, my—her—heart pounded with unsettling precision.
"This is ridiculous," I muttered, staring into the bathroom mirror.
Only it wasn't my voice. It was hers. Sultry, precise, a melody with daggers hidden beneath every word. I blinked. Long lashes fluttered. My reflection stared back: Victoria Hale, the woman I was engaged to. Cold. Beautiful. Deadly.
Or maybe not so deadly. Because I was in her body. And my real body was probably still bleeding out somewhere.
"Great," I muttered again, flexing unfamiliar fingers. "I go to bed a golden boy and wake up in the Ice Queen's lingerie."
---
20 Minutes Earlier…
The party had devolved into whispers.
I—Victoria—floated through the marble hallway with deliberate grace, faking poise. My eyes scanned the room like a security camera on overdrive. Everyone who mattered was here. Everyone who could've hated me enough to kill.
I caught my reflection in the polished wine rack: hips swaying, heels clicking, jaw tight. This was how Victoria walked? I adjusted my pace. A little less stomp, a little more glide.
Okay, you've got this, I told myself. You're wearing a dress, not dying. Again.
I passed by Ashley Morgan, my fiery ex, who tossed her red hair with a scoff.
"Nice of you to show up late, Vic. Power play, or Botox emergency?"
I smiled, lips tight. "Oh, you know me. Can't resist being fashionably fatal."
Ashley blinked. Then snorted. "Whatever."
As I moved away, I caught her whispering to Mia, the girl I'd rejected last month. "She's acting weird. Like... too calm."
Good. Let them talk. Let them wonder.
One of you bastards killed me.
I slipped past the bar, where Ethan Cole nursed a drink like it owed him answers. Ethan, the friend who vanished for years and popped back up with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Victoria," Ethan said coolly.
"Ethan."
A pause.
"You look like you're planning something."
I leaned in, letting Victoria's perfume do the talking. "I always am."
I smirked when Ethan looked away first. Still got it.
I drifted toward the center of the room, where Sophia—my girlfriend—was standing far too close to James Porter. James, the business partner with too many secrets and not enough loyalty.
Sophia turned, smiled. Her eyes glistened.
"Victoria," she said softly. "You alright? You seem... tense."
Tense? I'm dead, wearing my fiancée's bones, and your mascara's still wet.
"I'm fine, darling."
Sophia nodded, but her eyes dropped. Guilty? Nervous? No—her expression was just sad. Controlled. Like someone hiding a bruise, not a murder.
No one. Not a single person looked guilty. Not a flicker, not a tremble.
But someone in this room had killed me. And I would make them pay.
---
Back in the bathroom, I stared down at the unfamiliar body again. The dress clung like paint. The heels felt like tiny stilts. I reached behind me to unzip—
How the hell did women do this every day?
"Ugh," I muttered. "Victoria, you sadistic goddess."
I turned, caught sight of the curve of my—her—hips in the mirror. Narrow waist. Smooth legs. Sharp collarbones. I reached up, touched her lips.
This was insane. And kind of hot. But mostly insane.
I had to get out there and start poking the bear. Shake the tree. Rattle the damn snakes.
---
I made my way into the living room, where the core group had gathered: Ethan. Sophia. James. Ashley. Mia. Elijah—the quiet one with too many thoughts and not enough words.
All eyes turned to me. No one smiled.
"Now that everyone's here," I said, walking to the center rug with Victoria's practiced glide, "let's play a game."
Ashley raised a brow. "You're not exactly the party game type, Vic."
I smiled tightly. "Tonight's different."
I looked around, eyes lingering on each face a beat too long. Sophia's lips parted. James looked at his shoes. Ethan folded his arms. Elijah scratched his neck.
I cleared my throat. "Last night, someone in this room murdered someone very important to me."
The silence was nuclear.
Ashley rolled her eyes. "What the hell are you talking about?"
I stepped forward. "I'm talking about a betrayal so deep it cut through bone. I'm talking about lies wrapped in champagne glasses. And I'm talking about someone here knowing exactly what I mean."
Ethan frowned. "You're not making any sense."
I laughed, sharp and cold. "Oh, I think I am."
Mia shifted. "Is this... like a metaphorical death?"
"No," I snapped. "It's literal."
James scoffed. "You've been drinking."
"I've been resurrected," I said. "And I want answers."
Sophia's face went pale. "Victoria..."
"Yes?"
She swallowed. "What... exactly are you accusing us of?"
"I'm not accusing. Yet. But the truth? It's going to come out. One way or another."
A long silence stretched.
Then Elijah stood, hands shaking. "I'm out. I didn't sign up for this horror movie bullshit."
He reached for the door.
I stepped forward and slammed it shut.
"No one's leaving," I said, locking it. "Not until we figure out who killed the CEO's son."
The air thickened. Someone gasped.
James stood. "That's insane—"
"Sit down," I barked.
And they did.
All of them.
Because for the first time in this twisted night, they realized I wasn't bluffing.
And one of them was a murderer.
---