Three days left.

I looked at myself in the mirror. The sharp haircut, the expensive suit. I looked the part of a made man. But I knew it wasn't me.

My phone buzzed again. A photo. Madeline and Ryan in a luxury suite in Las Vegas. Champagne, rose petals, and them wrapped in an embrace.

[She says fucking in a suite this nice makes it even hotter. Way better than your wedding suite, huh?]

I ignored it and called my private advisor at a Swiss bank.

"Mr. Chen, a pleasure."

"I need to liquidate all assets in my account. Convert everything to cash and bearer bonds. By end of day."

Two days left.

I met Aaron for a final goodbye. He was my only friend, my old brother in arms.

"William, you don't look so good," Aaron said, his eyes as sharp as ever.

"I'm leaving Chicago," I said, straight to the point.

"Leaving? When are you back?"

"I'm not coming back."

Aaron stared at me for a moment, then nodded. "I get it. Need me to wipe your tracks?"

That's why I trusted him. He never asked questions. Just offered support.

"No. But…" I handed him a small package. "This is for you."

He opened it. Inside was a Patek Philippe watch worth two hundred thousand dollars. "William, this is too much—"

"It's a gift for a true friend," I said, gripping his hand. "Take care of yourself, Aaron."

As I left the museum, a new message came in.

[Check out the three-million-dollar watch she bought me at the auction tonight. Nice, right? You better enjoy your last few days as Mr. Windemere.]

I blocked the number.

The final day.

Three in the morning. The mansion was as quiet as a tomb.

I stood in the walk-in closet, looking at the millions of dollars' worth of suits and watches. Custom-tailored on Savile Row, Rolexes on display… each piece was a symbol of the comfortable life I'd chosen. Now they just looked like a gilded cage.

At four a.m. sharp, a truck from a local charity arrived. I helped them load everything inside.

"Mr. Windemere, are you sure you want to donate all of this?" one of the young volunteers asked, his eyes wide. "This stuff… it's priceless."

"That's exactly why it should go to people who actually need it."

After they left, I drove three large boxes to an abandoned factory on the outskirts of the city. Inside was an old incinerator, shut down for years.

One by one, I tossed the "evidence" inside.

Wedding photos, love letters from Madeline, souvenirs from our honeymoon… I fed it all to the flames. The fire danced in the darkness, consuming every last trace of William Windemere.

The only things I kept were my tactical go-bag and my K-Bar knife. I'd gotten it on my first op. It was one of the few things in my life that was truly mine.

As the flames died down, I felt a sense of relief I hadn't felt in years.

William Windemere was dead.

At dawn, I took a car to the airport. Just as we pulled up, I saw a familiar black Maserati leaving from another terminal. Madeline was back.

At that exact moment, my phone rang.

"Baby! I'm back!" Madeline's voice was as excited as a child's. "The business in Vegas went faster than I expected. I'll be home soon. I can't wait to see the surprise gift you got me!"

A surprise. She was definitely in for a surprise.

"I'm waiting for you," I said calmly, watching her car disappear into the distance.

"I love you, William. Wait for me."

I hung up, snapped the SIM card in half, and threw it and the phone into a trash can.

I clutched the brand-new passport. The photo was me, but the name was Noah Chen. A new identity. A new beginning.

I took one last look at Chicago, then turned and walked toward the boarding gate.

Goodbye, William Windemere.

Hello, Noah.