Mirror Crown
Xavier stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the collar of the suit he'd been told to wear. The reflection staring back at him was barely recognizable. Gone was the worn-out jeans and hoodie he had become accustomed to; in its place was a pristine tuxedo, the kind reserved for the ultra-wealthy. His fingers lingered on the fabric as he took in the image—a man who didn't belong here, wearing clothes that screamed power and privilege.
His phone buzzed again, snapping him out of his trance.
"Mr. Classic, your transportation to the airport is arranged. We'll be waiting at the front at 4 PM sharp. Please make sure you're ready on time. Safe travels."
Xavier closed his eyes for a moment. The weight of the message pressed down on him. The whole situation felt like an endless spiral, and each step deeper into it made him feel more suffocated. He had never been someone who liked to be noticed, to be treated differently. But now, everyone saw him as Christian, and that was a heavy identity to bear.
He had to play the part. There was no room for error. But in the back of his mind, a question gnawed at him: What happens when I get to New York? What happens when everyone realizes I'm not who they think I am?
The thought sent a chill down his spine. He couldn't afford to make any mistakes. Not now.
The door to the room opened softly, and a staff member stepped inside. "Mr. Classic, it's time. The car is ready for you downstairs."
Xavier nodded, his mind still reeling with questions, but he knew he had to keep up the charade. He followed the staff member out, his mind racing. The mansion was as quiet as it had been the night before, almost too quiet. It felt like a world frozen in time, a world that was too far removed from anything he could understand.
As they made their way to the front of the house, Xavier noticed the gleaming black car parked outside, its tinted windows reflecting the sunlight. It was a sleek, expensive vehicle, one that had no place in his former life, where he was used to cramped buses and late-night walks home from his part-time job.
The driver opened the door for him, and he slid into the backseat, trying to shake off the feeling of being watched. As they drove toward the airport, Xavier's mind wandered back to the life he had left behind—the normal one, where he worked for his wages, earned respect from his coworkers, and had real friends, not people who pretended to like him because of his last name.
What about the job? His part-time work. The one he'd had before all of this happened. He'd planned to go back to it tomorrow. He had shifts lined up. But now, with the flight back to New York looming, there was no time for it. How could he just disappear from a job like that? How could he tell his boss he was leaving without explanation?
For a moment, Xavier considered the absurdity of it all. How do I tell anyone that I'm not who they think I am? That I'm just a guy pretending to be someone else?
The thought made his chest tighten. It wasn't just the part-time job he had to think about anymore. It was everything. The moment he stepped off that plane in New York, he would be expected to take up Christian's life in full force. He would have to live in Christian's shoes, walk in his shadow, and continue playing a role that wasn't his own.
What did that mean for him? What did that mean for the people he'd left behind? He couldn't just disappear into this life and forget about the one he had. His old life, with its smallness and simplicity, was still a part of him. But no one here would care about that.
The car took a sharp turn, and the airport terminal came into view. The bright lights from the tarmac reflected off the windows, and Xavier felt a strange pang of unease. He was about to step into a world that didn't make sense, one where the rules were different, where the expectations were sky-high, and where every mistake would be noticed. But more than anything, he was afraid of losing himself in this new identity.
The driver pulled up to the private terminal, and Xavier stepped out of the car. A team of staff members, all dressed in black suits, waited for him by the entrance. They greeted him with exaggerated smiles, treating him like royalty, and it made Xavier sick to his stomach. He tried to keep his face neutral, but every part of him screamed to run.
They escorted him to a private lounge, where everything was laid out in front of him—luxury food, drinks, and a few scattered business associates of the Classic family who greeted him with respect, though they seemed to know very little about him. No one questioned him, not even once. It was as if they had all agreed to act as if he were Christian.
Xavier's mind raced. What if this is it? What if I never get out of this?
He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The flight to New York was about to board, and the reality of what he was about to do hit him full force. The staff had already made arrangements for everything—private security, first-class seating, even special treatment at the airport. They had anticipated every detail of Christian's return, just as they had done for years.
And as they made their way toward the plane, Xavier was hit with a sudden sense of déjà vu. How am I going to live this life? He had no idea what Christian's life truly entailed, what his responsibilities were. The questions piled up with every step he took.
The staff led him onto the plane, a sleek private jet waiting for him like a luxury ride into a new chapter of his life. He took his seat, looking out the window as the plane taxied down the runway. He had a choice: keep pretending, keep living in this world of opulence and deceit, or find a way to escape.
But for now, all Xavier could do was sit back, try to ignore the gnawing panic in his chest, and hope that somehow,someday, he'd find a way to stop pretending.