Chapter 11

CAMILLE'S POINT OF VIEW

"Stanford University, class of 2016. Summa cum laude. Double major in Economics and Computer Science."

I stared at the diploma in my hands, the heavy paper embossed with gold seals and signatures. My name, Camille Kane written in elegant calligraphy across the center. A degree I never earned from a university I'd never attended. "How is this possible?" I asked, running my finger over the raised seal. It felt real. Everything felt real. Victoria sat across from me in her priva to-

ceiling bookshelves. A massive desk separated us, covered with documents spread out like puzzle pieces forming my new life. "Money opens many doors," she said, sliding another folder toward me. "People a at graduation. The woman in the pictures looked like me, but with subtle differences, straightened hair, confident posture, designer clothes I'd never owned.

"That's not me," I whispered, touching the smiling graduate's face.

“Digital manipulation. Quite good, isn't it? We had an expert blend your features with photos of a real Stanford graduate. Just enough to pass as you if no one looks too closely."

1 moved to the next document. Harvard Business School acceptance letter, followed by more transcripts, more doctored photos.

"MBA with focus on venture capital and

emerging markets, Victoria continued, watching me closely. "You were quiet but brilliant. Professors remember you as intensely private but insightful."

"And these professors will confirm this if asked?"

Victoria's smile was thin. "They already have. Three different background checks from various business publications have contacted them. All received the same carefully constructed memories of the remarkabl My head spun. The depth of the deception was staggering. An entire life constructed from nothing, solid enough to withstand scrutiny.

"What about before college? High school? Childhood?"

handed me another folder, thicker than the others. Your entire history,

Switzerland. Before that, exclusive boarding schools to shield you from media attention after I adopted you at age ten. Your biological parents, distant relations of mine died in a yacht accident off the coast of The folder comained

of a young girl who resembled me but

absence from public life," Victoria said. "You were my closely guarded secret, educated abroad to protect you from

weight of this new identity pressed down, both gift and

records. Tax filings.

owned for years. Even a driving record with a speeding ticket from

"The speeding ticket?"

life

moving to the window overlooking Manhattan. Sixty floors below, people scurried like ants, unaware of the fiction being written in this room. A fiction that would soon become my reality. "Social media?" I asked, knowing the

the exact digital footprint one would expect from a private heiress. Our team has been building them slov I turned

managed. Your college records show an unremarkable student who never graduated. Your employment history

disappearance aligns with expectations, the less anyone will question

pressed a button on her desk phone. "Send in James

tall man

carrying a sleek laptop and several files. He nodded respectfully before setting them on

surveillance report, Ms. Kane," he said to Victoria. "And the social media monitoring as requested." "Thank

departed silently, closing the heavy

one of the files, considering its contents before looking

your

doing

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