The Mirror Trade

It wasn't just about the money. Maybe at first — it was a golden opportunity. But once Victoria got involved, everything changed.

Victoria Langston. Elegant, sharp, and clearly tired of living in the shadow of her husband, Richard Langston — founder and CEO of HelixNova, the nation's leading bioengineering firm. She claimed he was a tyrant. That she wanted out. That she needed my help.

And I helped her.

As a contracted security consultant, I had access. I copied files, leaked information, bypassed protocols. All under her direction. It was a perfect plan. Until, of course, it wasn’t.

Richard knew. He always knew.

I thought I was caught. I thought I’d be arrested. But what actually happened was far, far worse.

---

I woke up in a sterile facility — bright, cold, clinical. Across the room, someone was panicking. I recognized the face. It was me. Or at least… my former body.

I ran to the glass wall and saw my reflection. It was her face. It was Victoria.

"Full genetic transfer," Richard explained calmly, appearing as if he were unveiling a new prototype. “Not a mind swap. Not magic. Biotechnology. The two of you are now each other — biologically.”

I was in her body. She was in mine.

---

Victoria — now looking like me — was handed over to the authorities, along with all the evidence of the crimes we committed. But to the legal system, it was Ethan Cole who was arrested.

And me?

Richard made me an offer:

“You can turn yourself in. Try explaining the impossible. Say you're a man trapped in Victoria Langston’s body. They'll call you unstable — or guilty.

Or… you can stay. Assume her role. Her name. Her life — beside me.”

---

I tried to resist. Refused to answer when people called me by her name. Stayed isolated, waiting for a way out. But days passed. Nothing changed.

The world saw Victoria Langston when they looked at me. The face, the voice, the fingerprints. Everything. Who would believe the truth — and even if they did, what difference would it make?

Richard kept the facade perfectly intact. In public, we were the same refined couple. In private, he was cold, calculated. He never made direct threats, but his message was always clear: the other option was still on the table.

Prison. Complete erasure. Public collapse.

---

Six months later, I still sometimes wake up expecting to see my old reflection. But all I find is hers — the face I’ve learned to maintain. To wear. To inhabit.

And I keep wondering:

If she’s imprisoned living as me, and I’m free, living as her…

…who’s really more free?