At 8:45 PM, Sophie returned to her Geneva suite.

There was a knock at the door.

She opened it to find a woman—late thirties, with olive skin and quiet, measured poise. She wore a navy coat and held an old leather briefcase.

“My name is Liora Mary Cross-Burnett,” she said softly. “I believe we’re sisters (Cousins).”

Sophie didn’t move.

Liora continued, “I wasn’t just raised by her. I was trained by her. Everything you know about Mary… she prepared me for the part you wouldn’t accept.”

She opened the briefcase.

Inside were letters. Handwritten. Addressed to “Liora, my true continuity.”

Sophie looked up, breath shallow.

Liora met her eyes.

“She...