Eleanor sat in the plush leather chair across from Mrs. Sterling's desk, a perfectly innocent smile on her face. Her target, a CEO of a successful tech company, was a masterpiece of corporate elegance. Mrs. Sterling’s charcoal-grey power suit was impeccably tailored, her hair pulled back in a severe, no-nonsense knot, and a single, expensive watch glinted on her wrist. This was the woman Eleanor needed to be—the woman whose high-level clearance would grant her access to the company's server room.
Eleanor was a master of the long con, a patient predator. She had cultivated this meeting for weeks, posing as a freelance marketing consultant with a brilliant but intricate pitch. Now, as Mrs. Sterling was about to send her on her way, Eleanor launched the final, most crucial phase of her plan. She feigned a sudden, dizzying spell, clutching her head and slumping back in her chair.
"Are you alright?" Mrs. Sterling asked, all brisk efficiency.
"I... I don't know what came over me," Eleanor gasped, her voice trembling just enough. "I just need to lie down for a moment."
Ever the pragmatist, Mrs. Sterling offered Eleanor her private washroom, a sanctuary of cool marble and muted tones. "Take a few minutes," she said, her tone softening slightly with professional concern.
The moment Mrs. Sterling's back was turned, Eleanor moved with the swift, quiet grace of a cat. She slipped into the washroom, but her focus wasn't on the fainting spell. She locked the door and swiftly opened the vent she had planted a small, incapacitating gas dispenser into days before. A few moments later, she heard Mrs. Sterling's surprised cry from the outer office as the gas took effect.
Eleanor emerged to find Mrs. Sterling unconscious but unharmed, a study in corporate decorum even in repose. Eleanor then began the final, critical, and surprisingly simple phase of her operation. She switched clothes with the woman to complete her disguise and impersonate the other woman, the CEO of the company.
The tailored suit felt strangely powerful, the fabric both restrictive and liberating. Eleanor carefully applied Mrs. Sterling's minimal makeup, adjusted the watch on her wrist, and copied the severe chignon from memory. A few quick tweaks to Mrs. Sterling's ID badge using the tools in her purse and the transformation was complete.
Looking in the full-length mirror, Eleanor didn't see herself. She saw a powerful, successful businesswoman, a woman of purpose and authority. She saw a reflection that could glide past security, walk with purpose through the hallways, and access the server room without a single question.
She straightened her jacket, her hand instinctively going to her tie. She smoothed it with practiced ease. "Eleanor," she whispered, her voice a perfect copy of Mrs. Sterling's clipped, professional tone. "Time to go to work." The real Mrs. Sterling lay still on the office floor, her career and her clothes about to be used for a purpose she would never have imagined.
