Days later, I buried myself in work. Again.

"Fuck," I cursed, snapping my neck as I sat on the couch.

I read through some documents in my right hand while holding an iced coffee in my left.

I was trying to trace the impostor’s whereabouts and dig into my past—a task I dreaded—using Kesha’s help.

Unfortunately, this man had advanced skills that even Kesha couldn’t match. I’d anticipated this, so I wasn’t too disappointed when she informed me she couldn’t find anything about ...