Lena's POV
"How do I look?" I asked Claire as I stepped out of my room. She was glued to her phone, tapping away at something, barely paying me any attention.
"OMG, Lena," she gasped when she finally looked up, scanning me from head to toe. "You would definitely pass as my boyfriend."
I groaned, pulling at the hem of my oversized jacket. "Ugh. That means I look too good. I need to change. I'm supposed to look poor and struggling." I turned back toward my room, already planning to swap out the outfit.
Claire rolled her eyes, never missing a beat. "Lena, you're always beautiful. You can't change that. Even if you wear rags, you'd still look gorgeous." She smirked before adding, "Plus, your outfit looks cheap enough."
I scoffed, shaking my head. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm going like this, then." I adjusted the collar of my jacket and made my way to the door.
"Alright, baby. Take care," she teased, blowing me a kiss.
"Ew, bitch," I gagged, sticking my tongue out, "Let Chris hear you." I made a face before stepping out.
"Whoops! You know, a man won't want you," she shouted after me.
"You wish!" I shouted back, laughing, my voice disappearing as I walked down the stairs.
I hurried downstairs, heart pounding a little faster as I stepped outside, scanning the streets for a cab. Finding one in our area was like winning the lottery—most of the time, you had to book ahead, and the waiting could take forever. But today, for whatever reason, luck was on my side. I spotted a cab parked at the corner, and before I could think too much about it, I waved it down.
"Thank God," I muttered under my breath as the cab pulled over. I hopped in quickly, eager to get on with the mission.
"Where to?" the driver asked, looking at me through the rearview mirror.
I hesitated for a second, my fingers lightly gripping the strap of my bag. "Via Padova," I finally answered. It was one of the rougher neighborhoods in Milan, and it was where I was supposed to meet Henry before we head to Quarto Oggiaro. We were posing as struggling siblings, and our cover had to be airtight. That meant we needed to look, sound, and act broke—like we barely scraped by.
"Sure." The driver nodded and pulled away from the curb, easing into traffic.
The ride took about forty minutes, the city's buzzing streets slowly giving way to more run-down neighborhoods. When we finally arrived at Via Padova, I felt a small sigh of relief. No problems, no complications.
The driver gave me a strange, almost suspicious look when I handed him the fare, but he took the money without comment. I quickly stepped out of the cab, clutching my bag tightly in my hands. As the car sped off, I stood on the sidewalk for a moment, feeling the heat of the sun on my skin. The street was loud. Really loud. Some people were fighting, others were smoking, and I could even spot a couple making out in a doorway.
The whole area smelled like smoke, fried food, and sweat. People weren't just walking—they were practically gliding, swarming the street in groups, moving with an ease that suggested they'd been here their whole lives. But the way they looked at me—eyes narrowed, sizing me up—told me I wasn't exactly blending in.
I tightened my grip on the bag, already feeling the weight of the situation press against my chest. The environment felt tense, as though everyone knew each other, like a town with too many secrets.
A man started walking toward me, eyes lingering on my face for a little too long. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Just as things were starting to feel uncomfortable, I saw Henry across the street, moving swiftly toward me. I gave a breath of relief as he cut through the crowd to reach me.
"Sorry I kept you waiting," I apologized, smiling at him as he crossed over to my side.
"No. It's okay," he said, flashing me a warm smile. "I was just making sure we weren't being followed."
I nodded, grateful for his vigilance. Henry was always calm, always thinking a few steps ahead. We didn't need to worry about anything when he was around.
We had chosen Via Padova for a reason—to make it look like we were moving out of the neighborhood. It would help sell our cover of being broke and desperate.
"Should we meet him now?" I asked Henry. We were supposed to meet with our supposed agent here, someone who would connect us with a person in Quarto Oggiaro.
"I've already done that," he replied, his voice casual. "He called ahead. He'll be waiting for us." I loved how efficient Henry was. He wasted no time. He was punctual, always on top of things. It made working with him easy.
"Then, let's get going," I said, ready to get this over with. I could feel the eyes of the locals following us as we made our way to the nearest taxi stand. Henry waved one down, and we jumped in quickly.
As the cab pulled away from Via Padova, the tension in the air seemed to thicken. I could still feel those prying eyes on me, watching us leave. It was unnerving, but we didn't have time to linger. We had a mission to complete.
The street was quiet when the cab finally pulled into Quarto Oggiaro—a worn-out corner of Milan that felt like it belonged in a different time. The buildings were patched up in places, balconies clung to rusting railings, and the streets carried the scent of old bread, motor oil, and something faintly floral from a nearby open window. A laundry line swayed between two buildings above our heads, and the occasional bark of a dog broke the stillness. This place was nothing like the sleek, polished parts of Milan we were used to. And that was exactly what we needed.
Henry stepped out of the cab behind me, straightening the collar of his oversized hoodie. His eyes scanned the surroundings with uncertainty.
"Are you sure this is the place?" he muttered, a tone of concern in his voice.
"Yes. It's perfect," I said, adjusting the snapback cap that shadowed my face. My baggy jeans and thick jacket did the rest. With a tightened sports band across my chest and a looser walk, I was Lena no more. Just Leo, the protective younger brother. Undercover mode: activated.
A small man in a crumpled gray suit waved at us from the corner near a bakery. He looked like he had rolled out of bed and straight into the day, his tie flapping like a sad flag in the wind.
"You must be the siblings looking for a house?" he asked, squinting at us.
"Yes. Leo and Henry. Our agent said you'd be helping us today?" I responded, offering him a tight smile.
"Ah yes, call me Gino," he said with a dramatic bow. "Welcome to the royal tour of what I humbly call 'Milan's hidden gems'." He gave a cheesy grin, then leaned toward me. "No offense, Leo, but you're too beautiful to be a man. I almost second-guessed myself."
I chuckled, flicking my chin up in mock swagger. "You wish I was your girlfriend."
He burst out laughing. "If I were gay, I'd marry you right now."
Henry cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable.
"Alright, shall we get started?" I said quickly, sparing Henry from further awkwardness. We weren't here for Gino's personal comments, after all.
Gino led us down the street, pointing out three buildings we would be visiting. As we walked, we greeted a few neighbors—an old woman sweeping her doorstep, a boy chasing a flat soccer ball, and a man fixing a scooter outside a garage. The locals nodded politely, a mix of suspicion and familiarity in their eyes. In a neighborhood like this, new faces stood out. The sense of community was strong, but so was the quiet wariness that came with struggling to survive in a place where help rarely came from the outside.
The first house was a two-bedroom apartment on the second floor of a building that smelled like mildew and broken dreams. The ceiling had water stains, and the toilet groaned like a dying beast. Gino tried to hype it up.
"Excellent ventilation, see? You can smell the outside right from the kitchen."
We moved on, holding our noses, exchanging glances. Henry mouthed the word, "Disaster."
The second was slightly better—less peeling paint, and at least the faucet worked. But the price was too high for the story we were about to sell.
"This one's a little too fancy for our cover," I said, making a mental note to avoid it.
The third house stood at the far end of the block, tucked between a closed-down bakery and a pawn shop. It was small, with cracked windows and a crooked front door. But it had one thing the others didn't: potential.
As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, casting a warm amber glow over the rundown neighborhood, Henry and I wrapped up our exhausting day of house hunting. Our final choice—a dilapidated, single-story building with peeling yellow paint and a rusted gate—looked like it hadn't seen love in decades. A dog barked nonstop in the distance, and children ran barefoot across cracked pavement, laughter echoing off walls patched with mismatched bricks.
We stepped inside, and my feet sank into the dusty floor. The interior was no better. The walls were bare, the tiles chipped, and the smell of mold lingered in the air. I stood there, eyes scanning every corner, and smiled. "This is it."
Henry raised a brow. "You're joking. This place is practically falling apart."
"Exactly," I replied, brushing my palm against the dusty window sill. "Nobody would think two agents would live here. It's perfect."
Gino, who had followed us through at least five other homes, adjusted his glasses. "If you're sure... Most people would rather take the unit from earlier. It's smaller but in better condition."
I offered a sheepish smile. "We would have, but our budget's tight. Our old landlord decided to sell our previous place, and our mother is in the hospital nearby. We need to be close, even if it means settling for... well, this."
Gino nodded, sympathy flickering across his face. "Understood. It's unfortunate, really. This area's not what it used to be. But the neighbors are kind, at least. Hard-working folks. You'll blend in fine."
"That's what we're counting on," I said, though the thought of blending in didn't seem so easy. It wasn't just the house that needed to be believable; we had to act the part convincingly.
As Gino stepped out to make a call, I turned to Henry. "You've barely said a word. What's on your mind?"
Henry hesitated. "The conference. It's postponed. Indefinitely. Just got the alert while we were touring the second house."
I stiffened. "Damn it. That was our chance. Meeting Asher in public, playing desperate siblings—that would've made him more likely to accept us."
"I know," Henry muttered. "That's why I didn't bring it up earlier. I didn't want to break the flow."
I exhaled, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Then we go to Plan B. We approach Nexus Corp directly. Desperation won't look as convincing, but if we play our cards right, we can still land a position."
"Plan B was never your favorite," Henry teased.
"No, but I'm adapting. Unlike someone who still doesn't act like my brother."
He rolled his eyes. "I'm trying. You're a tough sibling to match."
We chuckled, the tension breaking momentarily. As I turned back to survey the house, I noticed a slight movement from above. An old woman with gray hair and a wrinkled face was peeking through the balcony window. She looked us over with wide, curious eyes, and then raised a finger to her lips, signaling us to be quiet. Then she said something in a heavy accent.
"You're buying here?" she asked, her voice shaky, yet oddly warm.
"Uh, yes. We're looking for a place close to the hospital," I explained, trying to seem casual.
She nodded, looking us up and down before speaking again. "The mold here... it's bad. The walls are thin, but the dampness, the rot... it's everywhere. You'll feel it in your bones."
I smiled politely. "Thanks for the tip. We'll keep that in mind."
She gave me a knowing look. "No one stays here long. It's not a place to stay if you want good health, that's for sure."
Henry shifted uneasily beside me. "Maybe we should... not mention the mold too loudly," he muttered under his breath.
I nodded. "Yeah, let's keep that between us."
As we turned to leave, I heard the old woman chuckle softly. "Good luck, young ones. You'll need it."
With a final glance at the house, I shrugged. "We'll be fine."
We signed the papers with Gino just as the sun sank lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the street. He handed us the keys with a big smile, but I could see the underlying discomfort. The house wasn't pretty, but it was ours.
We spent the next few minutes greeting some of the neighbors. We approached an elderly man who was sitting outside his door, smoking a cigarette. His eyes were bloodshot, but his gaze was sharp as he regarded us.
"You moving in?" he asked, his voice raspy from years of smoking.
"Yeah," Henry said. "Just settled in. Need to be close to the hospital."
The man squinted at us. "It's a rough neighborhood. But if you stay out of trouble, you'll get by. Not a lot of people around here have much patience for tourists or rich folks who come for a look."
"We're not rich," I said, maintaining my cover. "Just looking for a fresh start."
He snorted and puffed out a cloud of smoke. "Fresh start... sure. Good luck. But keep your wits about you."
I nodded, thankful for his candor, but his warning stayed in the back of my mind.
Later that evening, I returned to my apartment, the weight of the day settling into my bones. Claire was still there, slouched on the couch with a bowl of cereal in one hand, the other flicking through channels on the TV. She was watching a cooking show, though I was fairly certain she wasn't paying much attention to it.
"You survived!" Claire exclaimed, her mouth half-full of cereal.
I dropped down beside her with a long sigh, letting my head sink into the back of the couch. "Barely. We saw about six houses. Settled for the worst."
"Wow. That's commitment," she replied, raising an eyebrow in mock admiration.
I groaned, running a hand through my hair. "We needed to look desperate, and now we're officially tenants of 'the house mold forgot.'"
Claire laughed, the sound light and carefree, but then her expression shifted. She glanced at me with concern. "What's wrong? You look off."
I shook my head, feeling the exhaustion settle deeper. "The conference got canceled."
Her smile faltered, and she set the cereal box down. "Damn. That was the whole plan."
"I know," I murmured, my voice drained. "Now, we'll have to go to Nexus Corp directly. Just need a new angle."
Claire reached over and put a hand on my shoulder, a comforting gesture that made me feel a little lighter. "You'll figure it out. You always do."
I offered her a faint smile and leaned back, feeling the tension in my body slowly begin to melt. Just as I reached for a glass of water, my phone buzzed on the coffee table, breaking the quiet moment. I picked it up and saw a message from Chris.
Chris:Dinner before you disappear into the underworld? My treat. Sunday. 8 PM?
I stared at the message for a moment, blinking. Then I showed it to Claire with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, well, Agent Loverboy wants to wine and dine you before you go full secret identity," Claire teased, her grin widening.
I laughed softly, shaking my head. "He's sweet. And lovely."
"Yeah, lovergirl, I know," Claire shot back, rolling her eyes dramatically.
I snorted at her response but didn't comment further. I tossed my phone back onto the coffee table and stood up, stretching my arms over my head. "Whatever. I'm going to shower."
Claire didn't even look up as I started toward my room. "Sure, sure. You know, if you're not careful,you will fall for Asher," she called after me with a smirk.
I groaned and shook my head, closing the door behind me. I was in no mood for Claire's teasing tonight. I just needed a hot shower and some time to unwind. That's what I told myself, anyway. But I knew I wouldn't get the peace I was craving. Not with Claire spending the night.