Death changes a person… Especially when their death is faked.
When your father happens to be the next Presidential hopeful, flying under the radar is about as easy as scaling a twenty-story glass building in broad daylight. Even if I was mostly in the background, staying in Dad’s spotlight would make my ambition of becoming a spy difficult at best. And he didn’t want to be the one to take away my dreams.
The plan was to fake my death a month after he announced his candidacy, but everything changed when I didn’t make it home for winter break.
They insisted it was a car crash, but that didn’t explain the gunshot wounds in my chest. Or why Dad said it was best to let people think that I was dead.
Six weeks and eight surgeries later, I was back at school. New name, new face, and a couple hundred classmates still mourning my death. I thought it would be easy to adopt the new identity, especially since I’d spent the last three and a half years at a special high school run by the Department of Defense.
But no amount of training could have prepared me for this.
After all, I still had to figure out who killed me.