Prologue — Upload Initiated
[ Avery Lee’s POV ]
❖ Lionhaven City – Past Midnight ❖
The hum of the office lights was the sound of exhaustion masquerading as productivity.
Nexus Publishing’s top floor glowed like a ghost ship—rows of monitors, the hush of rain against glass, reflections of people who had already gone home.
Everyone except me.
My desk was a small island of half-edited manuscripts and cold coffee. The newest file blinked on screen: The Price of Passion — Chapter 40.
Even the title felt smug, as if daring me to care about love when I could barely remember what a weekend was.
“You’re running on fumes, Avery. Maybe burn slower for once.”
My editor-in-chief had said that before flying off for a wellness retreat.
I’d smiled, then opened another document.
A junior editor waved goodnight hours ago. I’d forgotten her name halfway through the evening.
Deadlines blurred people that way.
The city below pulsed with light. Car roofs gleamed like wet mirrors; umbrellas bloomed along the pavements, a slow choreography beneath the storm.
I used to write. Now I only fixed other people’s endings.
My phone buzzed—Ryan Lim: Still working? Don’t overdo.
I didn’t reply. Ryan was the kind of man who believed rest was a verb you could schedule.
We’d tried dating once; I’d called it off when he asked me to choose between him and my inbox.
I rubbed the ache between my brows and reread a line from the manuscript:
She thought love was a contract. He proved her wrong.
A humourless sound escaped me. If only life came with legal clauses for heartbreak.
2 : 47 a.m. blinked on the monitor clock.
The air-con hissed softly, the rain sharpening outside.
The cursor blinked in rhythm with my pulse—steady, slower, slower—until both seemed to hesitate.
The room tilted.
I caught the edge of the desk; the floor rippled, light bending like heat over asphalt.
Files opened themselves. Text scattered across the screen, rearranging into a single message:
The Price of Passion — Recompilation in Progress.
“What the …” I reached for the keyboard. It didn’t respond.
A faint vibration crawled up my spine, like static before a storm.
The office lights flickered, bright → dim → bright again, heartbeat fast then fading.
[System sync initiated. Neural link detected.]
The words weren’t on the monitor; they whispered inside my skull.
I turned toward the window. Rain streaked down the glass in perfect vertical lines—too perfect. Each drop froze mid-fall, silver threads hanging in air.
[Upload commencing. Please remain still.]
I tried to move. Couldn’t. Coffee tipped, warm against my wrist. The city dissolved into light, letters, code. A low hum built, deeper than thunder, closer than breath.
For one suspended heartbeat, I saw fragments:
– a departure board glowing through storm light.
– a man standing alone at a gate.
– a name I’d never written but somehow knew: Cassandra.
Then the floor vanished, and the world folded inward—rain becoming pixels, silence becoming colour.
When I fell, I didn’t hit the ground.
I landed on silk.
Sheets whispered beneath my palms, cool and impossibly soft.
The air smelled of cedar and rain. Outside, thunder rolled like a beast that had found its cage.
Somewhere in the dark, a calm metallic voice breathed through the storm:
[Player Avery Lee detected.]
[Simulation load complete.]
Author’s Note:
Thank you for reading the opening of Falling for the Enemy (Legacy Edition).
She fell through burnout and code; what waits below is only the beginning.
Sneak Peek (Next Episode — The Night It Began)
One flight, one message, one drink too many — and two strangers collide before dawn.
“Every storm begins with rain, finds peace in the sky, and returns in the wind.” — Fiona Sora
