STAR ACADEMY

CHAPTER TWO

Reginald struggled to compose himself. The trembling in his hands stopped and his breathing steadied. Then he turned to the men and barked, "Stand down. All of you. Now."

Scarface hesitated. "Sir, he stole your card. We should at least—"

"I said stand down." Reginald's voice was loud and it cracked like a whip. "Step back. Ten paces. And turn around."

The men exchanged nervous glances but obeyed. They moved back and turned to face the van, presenting their backs to the scene.

Reginald waited until they were out of earshot. Then he turned back to Carter, who was still kneeling on the cold pavement, utterly lost.

"Stand up," Reginald said quietly.

Carter did not move, and instead asked, "What the hell is going on?"

"Stand up," Reginald said, his voice firmer this time.

Carter's legs were shaking but he managed to get to his feet. He swayed slightly, still winded from the punch to his stomach. Reginald steadied him with one hand, the touch surprisingly gentle.

"What is your name?" Reginald asked. His voice had changed completely. No longer cold or threatening. Almost careful. Like he was handling something fragile.

Carter hesitated, before answering, "Carter. Carter Hayes."

Reginald nodded slowly. Then he said,"Carter Hayes. Where were you born?"

"Brooklyn. Methodist Hospital. Why does that matter?" Carter asked.

"Your parents?" Reginald said, ignoring Carter's question.

"Dead. Car accident. I was eight," Carter replied, his confusion slowly turning to anger. "What is this? Why are you asking me all these?"

Reginald ignored the questions. "Do you have any existing family? And mind you, I can quickly run a background check and find out so don't lie to me."

Carter clenched his jaw as he answered, "Yes, I have an elder sister. Elena. The only family I have left except for her husband and kid." Carter's fists clenched. "And if you're planning to use them against me, I swear to God—"

"I'm not going to hurt your family, Mr. Hayes." Reginald pulled out his phone again. "I'm going to show you something. And I need you to look at it carefully. Can you do that?"

Carter nodded warily.

Reginald tapped the screen several times, then turned it to face Carter. The photo loaded slowly, the connection struggling in this part of the city.

It showed a young man. Early twenties, maybe twenty-three at most. He stood in what looked like a really huge garden, with a beautiful Manor in the background. His hair was blonde and perfectly styled. His eyes were blue, cold and distant even in a photograph. His expression was neutral but somehow conveyed contempt, like the camera itself was beneath his notice.

But none of that mattered.

What mattered was the face.

Carter stared at it. His breath caught in his chest.

The bone structure was identical to his own. The jawline, sharp and defined. The cheekbones, high and angular. The shape of the nose, straight with a slight upturn at the end. The spacing of the eyes, the curve of the brow, even the small asymmetry where the left ear sat slightly higher than the right.

Everything matched.

The coloring was different. The hair, the eyes, the overall polish and presentation. But strip all that away and one could have mistaken them as the same person. Like looking at himself in a mirror.

"Who is that?" Carter's voice came out hoarse.

"His name is Owen Grace," Reginald said, watching Carter's reaction carefully. "Heir to the Grace family fortune, one of the wealthiest dynasties in America. His father controls Grace Global Media. His mother was a diplomat before her marriage. The family has holdings in seventeen countries and a net worth measured in billions."

Carter could not look away from the photo. "Okay, that's a lot of information but first of all...why does he look like me?"

"The question, Mr. Hayes, is why you look like him." Reginald pocketed the phone. "Owen Grace is twenty-four years old. Born in Manhattan. Raised between New York, London, and Geneva. He has never lacked anything in his entire life."

"Good for him," Carter said, wondering why Reginald was telling him all these.

"Six months ago, he suffered a complete psychological breakdown," Reginald said suddenly. "The details are not important now. What matters is that he is currently residing in a private psychiatric facility in Switzerland. His condition is stable but his prognosis is uncertain. He may recover in months. He may never recover at all."

Carter finally tore his eyes away from where the phone had been. He looked up at Reginald and asked,"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because his family cannot allow his condition to become public knowledge. The Grace name carries enormous weight in political and financial circles. Any sign of weakness or instability in the heir would have catastrophic consequences for their interests."

"So they're covering it up."

"They are managing the situation," Reginald corrected and began to pace. "Owen's absence has been explained as an extended sabbatical. Like a short study abroad for his personal growth. But there are people who know Owen personally. Friends. Rivals. Teachers. And he's been away for too long, so they will expect him to return soon. And when he does, they need to believe that he's absolutely fine."

"But he's not," Carter said.

"No, he isn't," Reginald agreed. Then he added, "But that's where you come in."

Carter's stomach was turning over slowly as realization dawned on him. "You want me to pretend to be him."

"I want you to become him." Reginald stopped pacing and fixed Carter with a hard stare. "For one year. Perhaps less if Owen recovers sooner. You would attend his Academy in his place. Maintain his social connections. Preserve his reputation. Ensure that no one suspects anything is wrong."

Carter laughed. It came out bitter and slightly unhinged. "You're insane. I'm a random guy from Brooklyn. I've never been to college, much less some fancy academy. I don't know anything about being rich or even acting rich. This is the stupidest plan I've ever heard."

"Is it?" Reginald's tone turned sharp. "You successfully stole from me tonight, Mr. Hayes. You identified a high-value target, executed a clean pickpocket, and used stolen credentials to make a significant purchase. All within the span of two hours. That requires intelligence, observation skills, and nerves. The same skills required for this task."

"Pickpocketing some guy is not the same as pretending to be a rich kid for a year," Carter retorted.

"No. It's significantly easier," Reginald's replied. "We will teach you all you need to know and give you the resources you need to succeed. What you have is the one thing we cannot create. That face."

He gestured at Carter like he was indicating a piece of equipment.

"Do you understand how rare this is? The resemblance between you and Owen? I have worked in private security for many years. I have seen coincidences that defied probability. But I have never seen anything like this. It's almost..." He paused. "Well. It's extraordinary."

Carter shook his head. "Find someone else. There has to be other people who look like him. Hire an actor. Get a professional."

"Actors talk. Professionals have reputations to protect. They would demand contracts, legal protections, insurance against exposure," Reginald said with a thin and cold smile. "You, on the other hand, are a criminal caught in the act. You have no leverage. No protection. And most importantly, you have every reason to keep your mouth shut."

The reality of the situation was settling over Carter like ice water. "This is blackmail."

"This is an opportunity, Mr. Hayes. Try to see it as such." Reginald pulled out the black card that Scarface had recovered. He held it up between two fingers. "This card is registered to a subsidiary account. The transaction you made tonight totaled fourteen thousand, eight hundred and sixty-seven dollars. That constitutes grand larceny in the state of New York. A Class D felony. You would face between two and seven years in prison."

Carter's hands clenched. "You set this up. You let me steal from you."

"I did no such thing. You chose to follow me. You chose to take my wallet. You chose to use that card. And I only planned to teach you a lesson so you never steal again." Reginald pocketed the card again. "But imagine my surprise when I realized you look like my young master. So now, I offer you a choice."

"To work for you or go to prison," Carter spat.

"Precisely." Reginald clasped his hands behind his back. "Though I would phrase it more positively. Work for the Grace family for one year and maintain Owen's public image. And in return, receive compensation that will change your life."

Carter's jaw was tight. "What compensation?"

"Five hundred thousand dollars upon successful completion of the contract. All of your debts will be cleared immediately."

Carter's head snapped up and he yelled, "How do you know about that?"

"I did a quick research as soon as you told me your name, Mr. Hayes," Reginald said in a bored tone. "I now know about every job you've been fired from. Every con you've run. And I even know about your little nephew. Good-looking kid."

The anger in Carter's chest was burning hotter now. "You son of a —"

"Watch your language, Mr. Hayes," Reginald said with a sinister smile. "And I am offering you the opportunity to solve every problem in your life with one year of your time. You get to keep your apartment. Your nephew gets his education funded, a full ride to any school he qualifies for. And you walk away with enough money to start fresh."

"And if I say no?" Carter said.

"Then I make one phone call and you are arrested within the hour. Your sister will be contacted, and she will have to explain to your nephew why his uncle is in prison. You will lose your apartment within few days, as I said. And then your bail money will probably consume whatever savings she has left. Your nephew will grow up poor and ashamed, knowing his uncle was a thief who ruined everything."

The words fell like heavy blows. Carter wanted to lunge at Reginald, to wipe that smug expression off his face. But the men were still there, ten paces away, ready to intervene. And more importantly, Reginald was right. About all of it.

"You're a bastard," Carter said quietly.

"I am a professional," Reginald said as he checked his watch. "I am also on a schedule. So I need your answer, Mr. Hayes. Prison or opportunity. Which will it be?"

Carter looked at the scattered electronics on the ground. The bags that had contained his one chance at getting ahead. Then he thought of Elena and Eli.

"What happens if I fail?" Carter asked. "If someone figures out I'm not really Owen?"

"Then the contract is void and you will receive nothing. And depending on how much damage you cause to the Grace family's reputation, you may face additional legal consequences."

"So I have to be perfect."

"You have to be convincing." Reginald tilted his head slightly. "There is a difference. Owen Grace is not perfect. He has flaws, weaknesses, a documented history of poor decisions. You will not be impersonating a saint. You will be impersonating a troubled young man who is trying to recover from a difficult period. That actually gives you quite a bit of room for mistakes."

Carter's mind was racing through possibilities, angles, ways this could go wrong. There were hundreds of them. But there was only one way it could go right.

"I want the money transferred to my sister's account immediately. Before I agree to anything."

Reginald's eyebrow raised slightly. "You are in no position to make demands, Mr. Hayes."

"Then arrest me. Send me to prison. At least there I'll get three meals a day." Carter forced himself to meet Reginald's eyes. "You need me more than I need you. You said it yourself. That face is rare. You can't create it. So if you want me to do this, you pay my sister first."

For a long moment, Reginald said nothing. Then he sighed and said, "Half now. Half upon completion."

"Three quarters now," Carter countered.

"Half. And that is not negotiable," Reginald said, his voice turning harder. "You are a petty criminal who got lucky with genetics, Mr. Hayes. Do not mistake that for leverage. I am offering you a fortune. More money than you could steal in ten lifetimes. But I am not a fool, and I will not pay the full amount to someone who might simply disappear with it."

Carter's jaw worked. He wanted to argue more but he knew he had pushed as far as he could. Finally, he said, "Fine. Half now."

Reginald pulled out his phone and typed rapidly. "Your sister's account information?"

Carter recited it. Watched Reginald enter the numbers. Reginald made the transfer with the casual ease of someone to whom two hundred and fifty thousand dollars was a just a few figures.

"Done." Reginald showed Carter the confirmation screen for exactly two seconds before putting the phone away. "The funds will clear by morning and she will confirm it."

"Of course," Carter said with a hollow voice.

"Then we have an agreement." Reginald gestured to the Mercedes. "Get in the car, Mr. Hayes. We have a long drive ahead of us."

"Where are we going?"

"To meet your new family," Reginald said. "The Graces are eager to inspect their investment."

Carter looked at the car. At the men by the van. At the street that led back to his old life. The life of failed jobs and desperate cons and slow defeat.

Then he thought of Eli's drawing. The superhero. The good guy who fought bad guys and won.

Maybe this was his chance to be that person. Even if he had to lie his way into it.

Carter walked to the Mercedes. Scarface opened the door without a word. Carter slid into the back seat. The leather was soft and the interior smelled like good money.

Reginald got in beside him. The door closed with a solid, final sound.

"One more thing, Mr. Hayes," Reginald said. "From this moment forward, you will address me as Mr. Thorne or sir. You will speak when spoken to. You will follow instructions precisely and without complaint. Do you understand?"

Carter's teeth ground together but forced himself to say "Yes."

"Yes, what?" Reginald said, raising an eyebrow.

The humiliation burned in Carter's throat but he swallowed it as he replied, "Yes, sir."

"Good." Reginald settled back into his seat as the car pulled away from the curb. "Now. Welcome to the Family."