Anne-Marie coughed violently as the bag was yanked off her face. The sudden rush of cool air filled her lungs, easing the suffocating panic that had gripped her. It took several seconds for her eyes to adjust to the harsh light of the room, the overhead ceiling fan whirring quietly, cutting through the otherwise suffocating silence.

Where was she?

The ropes binding her wrists chafed against her skin as she felt the rough hands of the men behind her loosening them. Her gaze darted around the room, trying to make sense of her surroundings. Her vision was still blurry, the remnants of whatever drug they had used to knock her out clouding her senses. In the far corner, she noticed two figures, men, standing side by side, whispering urgently to each other, but she couldn't make out their words.

Who were they?

She squinted, trying to focus, but her mind was still foggy. One of the men began to approach her, and she instinctively stiffened, her breath catching in her throat. As he moved closer, the other man turned as well, walking towards the table in the center of the room. Anne-Marie's heart pounded in her chest as the first man's face came into focus.

"Forgive my men for the manhandling, Miss Davis."

The calmness in his voice only heightened her fear. As he stepped closer, Anne-Marie cringed, trying to shrink back into the chair. How did he know her name? Her eyes followed him as he pulled out a chair across from her and sat down, making himself comfortable as if they were about to have a casual conversation. He handed his coat to one of the men beside him, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on her, studying her with unnerving intensity.

Anne-Marie shivered under his stare. There was something in the way he looked at her that made her skin crawl. She glanced around the room again, her mind racing, desperately trying to figure out what was happening.

Oliver, too, was having a hard time wrapping his head around the situation. Even now, with Anne-Marie sitting right in front of him, he couldn't fully believe it. The resemblance was uncanny, almost supernatural. When he first received pictures of her, he had been skeptical, but now, seeing her in person, he felt a shiver run down his spine. Octavia hadn't been exaggerating. Paris had a doppelgänger, and she was sitting right there, alive and breathing. How was it possible? Even their DNA was different.

"Forgive me for staring," Oliver said, realizing how unsettling his prolonged gaze must be. "I'm just... in shock. I still can't believe—"

"I know you," Anne-Marie cut him off, her voice trembling with a mix of recognition and fear. As her vision cleared, she finally placed his face. It was a face almost everyone in the country would recognize, especially those who owned a TV. Oliver Vurton, the Prime Minister of the country and the King's right hand. He was always there, always in the public eye, his reputation as one of the top power holders in the country preceding him.

"You're him, aren't you? The Prime Minister."

Oliver let out a weak sigh, confirming her suspicion without words. Anne-Marie's fear spiked, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst out of her chest.

Oliver leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table and placing his chin on his fist, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I've done nothing wrong," she stammered, trying to keep her voice steady. "I'm an honest hardworking citizen and I've never broken any rules."

"That's not why you're here, Miss Davis—"

"Then why am I here?" Anne-Marie's voice cracked with panic, her entire body trembling uncontrollably. "Why have you abducted me?"

Oliver exhaled slowly, clearly choosing his words with care. But before he could speak, Anne-Marie's fear spilled over, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a desperate plea.

"Whatever it is you want, I promise you, you've got the wrong person. I'm a nobody. I don't have anything that could interest you. I'm just doing my best to survive, to take care of my younger brother. Please, please let me go. I won't say a word about this to anyone, I swear—"

Oliver reached for an envelope on the table and calmly slid it towards her, his movements deliberate, almost methodical. The sight of it silenced Anne-Marie. She hesitated, her hands shaking as she picked up the photos inside. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she examined the images.

How?

The photos were of a young girl who looked just like her—baby pictures, school pictures, even recent ones. But the settings were all wrong. The girl was in places Anne-Marie had never been, wearing clothes far too expensive for her to ever own. And then there was the most shocking photo of all, one that appeared to have been taken recently, with her standing beside the Prince, her hair shorter and dyed in a rich shade of brown.

"This isn't me." She said in a whisper too loud for him to hear while her gaze still remained on the images in front of her. "It can't be.

"I know," Oliver said, breaking the silence.

Anne-Marie's mind was spinning, flashes of a day at the flower shop flooding her memory, the day she had seen someone who looked exactly like her. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut, and she dropped the photos, her hands trembling.

"That's my daughter," Oliver said quietly. "Paris Vutron."

Anne-Marie's eyes snapped back to his, her heart pounding in her chest. She remembered hearing about the royal engagement, the attack on the Royal family. So far it was only rumours with limited information about what had happened. The royal family were yet to give any official statements and the Vutrons had done their best to keep every information about Paris out of the news for the main time.

"She got shot on the day of her engagement to his Highness and is now at crossroads between life and death. That's why I brought you here," Oliver continued, his voice steady, almost soothing. "Because I need your help."

Anne-Marie blinked.
It was like everything was happening at once and she was too overwhelmed, scared and confused to wrap her head around it.

"I... I don't understand," Anne-Marie stammered, shaking her head as if that would somehow make sense of the situation. "How could I possibly help? I'm not a doctor. I'm barely even anything at this point. How could I be of any help to you?"

Oliver leaned back in his chair, his gaze unwavering as he spoke.

"I've gathered quite a bit of information about you, Miss Davis. Not everything, but enough to make a proposition."

"You... did a background check on me?" Her voice was small, disbelief mingling with fear.

"More like gathered knowledge," Oliver corrected, his tone calm. "I know you lost your parents years ago to the plague. Your mother first, and then your father shortly after. I know how hard you've worked to take care of yourself and your younger brother, how you had to drop out of school to support him. I know about the multiple jobs you've taken on just to afford his chemotherapy, and I know you were kicked out of your accommodation recently for being late on the rent. You need money, and you need it urgently."

Anne-Marie's frown deepened, her fear now tinged with anger.

"Your brother is sick, Stage three Acute Myeloid Leukemia and without insurance, the costs are overwhelming. You don't have any insurance because you take on cash-to hand jobs to avoid paying your taxes, you're also a stunt double, working under illegal conditions and thus, underpaid."
Oliver leaned closer to her.

"Now I understand that Abel's condition will only worsen if he doesn't get treated, and it progresses to another stage, it might be too late to save him."

"Stop," Anne-Marie whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

Oliver's gaze softened slightly, but he pressed on.
"I can change that, Miss Davis. I can give you everything and make it so that you would never have to work so hard another day in your entire life. I can get your brother admitted to the best hospital and ensure he receives treatment from the best doctors Breton has ever known."

Anne-Marie's breath hitched. Her heart was screaming at her to listen, to grab onto this lifeline, but her mind was reeling from the implications.
"What do you want?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

Oliver leaned forward, his tone firm but gentle.
"your help."

"My help with what?" Anne-Marie's voice cracked as the weight of the situation bore down on her.

"Become my daughter."

"What?" The word slipped out before she could process what he was saying.

"Temporarily, of course," Oliver clarified, his expression serious.

Anne-Marie stared at him, her breath caught in her throat. This couldn't be real. What he was asking, what he was suggesting, was beyond anything she could have imagined.

"As you know, my family is very powerful," Oliver continued, his tone steady. "And over the years, amassed lots of enemies, people who believe we don't deserve to be family of the future Queen. The attack on the engagement party was an attempt to eliminate my daughter, to remove her as a threat to their ambitions. They nearly succeeded, nearly. I need to protect Paris's position, to keep her position safe until she recovers. To find those that wish her dead and deal with them before she comes home. I need you to help me do that."

Anne-Marie squinted, trying to make sense of what he was saying.

"You want me to commit treason?" she asked, her voice trembling. "You want me to deceive the King? To play bait for your daughter? You want me to risk my life for your family?"

"No harm will come to you, I assure you," Oliver said, his voice calm, almost too calm. "I may have let my guard down with Paris, but I won't make that mistake again. You'll have my family's full protection and as for the King finding out, my daughter will be back before anyone even dreams of the truth. No one will ever know, Anne-Marie. I will make sure of that."

Anne-Marie's mind raced, her thoughts colliding with each other as she tried to grasp the enormity of what he was proposing. It was insane, beyond insane. And yet, as crazy as it was, there was a small voice in the back of her mind whispering that this could be her chance, her one shot at saving Abel.

Oliver leaned closer some more, sensing her hesitation.

"This could be everything you've ever wanted."

Anne-Marie closed her eyes, trying to block out his words, but they seeped in, filling her with doubt and hope in equal measure.

"Think about your brother," Oliver pressed on. "Think about his life. I am presenting you with an opportunity to give him a chance to live again, a chance to go back to school and live a normal life like every other child his age, a chance to be happy. You could give him the life he dreams of, and in return, you would have the chance to change your life too. You could have a future, a real future. All I'm asking for is a few months."

Anne-Marie's hands trembled as she rubbed her temples, her mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. He was right, this was an opportunity like no other. It could change everything, save Abel's life, give them both a future. But at what cost? Could she really go through with something like this? Could she risk everything, including her own life, for a chance at something better?

She raised her head to him.

"I'd think about it." She said.

Oliver exhaled and sat straight, his gaze on her less. She was asking for time to take his proposal in, it was a luxury he could at least afford to give to her.

"Fine." He said to her. "I'd leave my men here. Let them know when you need me-"

"I'd think about it at home." She cut in before he finished speaking, causing Oliver to hold the rest of his words back in his tongue, glaring at her like he didn't understand what she meant. "After I have made sure that my family is safe."

"You're not suggesting I let you leave here after everything you know do you?" Anne-Marie shrugged. "How do I know you won't run around telling the details of our meeting to your family?"

"And what exactly would I say to them?" She answered. "All of this is hard and crazy to believe, even for me." She scoffed. "Who would believe anything I say? I might not live in the imperial city but I have heard stories, stories about dirty politics and game of thrones. About powerful families like yours and the King's. I know that this is not a request, and that I won't be leaving this room alive if I refuse, after knowing all that I've been told. There wouldn't be any friends or kings to speak to anyway, I'd be dead before I manage to stand up on my feet."

Oliver's pushed himself backwards as he saw the turmoil in her eyes. For some reason, he believed her and understood what she was trying to say. He couldn't explain it but even though she tried to hide it under the premise of fear and confusion, it was something about her eyes that told him just how desperate she was for his help, just as much as he was desperate for hers.

"Take some time to think it over. My offer stands until ten PM tomorrow. My men would see to it that you get to your brother safe."

Anne-Marie looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear, anger, and desperation. She felt as though she was standing on the edge of a cliff, with no idea what lay on the other side.

The weight of the decision was too much, the stakes too high. She just sat there, staring at him, her mind a storm of emotions, her heart caught between hope and fear. She felt his presence get up from across her and shut her eyes, taking a deep breath as he walked away from her.

She let out an exasperated sigh and slowly returned her gaze to all the pictures and documents in front of her. Her head throbbing just as badly as her heart was.

How was any of this possible?
How could this happen?

She shut her eyes, saying only one prayer in her head, a prayer that she woke up and all of it would be a dream.