The Identity Coup

Published by: eXtasy Books

Author : Gabriella Bradley

ISBN :978-1-4874-4388-7

Page :474

Word Count :127000

Publication Date :2026-03-06

Series : #

Heat Level :

Available Formats :

Category : , Romantic Suspense and Mystery , Mystery and Suspense , What's New

Product Code: 978-1-4874-4388-7

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She was kidnapped. Replaced. And no one in the world knows the truth—not even the man who trusts her most.

White House Press Secretary Olennia Fraser finds her life gone. A perfect copy of her—polished, confident, eerily perfect and precise—now stands at the President’s side, shaping public opinion and pushing the country toward a dangerous confrontation with the rising power of Vareshka. Branded unstable and hidden away, Olennia must fight to reclaim her freedom and her identity before her clone ushers the nation into war.

But Olennia isn’t the only target. Parson Brunweiger, the President’s Chief of Staff—and the man Olennia secretly loves—is being quietly cut out of his own administration.

“Where exactly are you taking me?” Her direct question hung in the air between them.

After a pause long enough to be deliberate, Phillips responded, “A verification site.”

No elaboration. No explanation. No reassurance.

“A verification site,” Olennia repeated. “I’m not familiar with that designation.” Her words came out more clipped than intended, her press secretary tone slipping.

Neither man responded. The silence stretched between them, filled only by the sound of tires on pavement.

She tried a different approach. “Has the Chief of Staff shared any details about what I’m needed for?”

“All information will be provided upon arrival,” Walton said, his voice a perfect monotone.

Olennia fought the urge to demand they turn around. Whatever was happening, creating a scene wouldn’t help. Better to maintain composure, gather information, and handle the situation with the same strategic thinking that had carried her through countless White House crises.

But this didn’t feel like any crisis she’d encountered before. This felt wrong on a fundamental level.

The buildings grew more sparse as they continued driving. Streetlights appeared at longer intervals. The occasional passing car dwindled to none. Her phone showed they were now in an area of Maryland she’d never visited, industrial zones interspersed with patches of undeveloped land.

Her pulse throbbed in her throat. She pressed her fingertips against the cool window glass, leaving small ovals of condensation that quickly faded. The night outside seemed darker now, the stars obscured by clouds that hung low over the unfamiliar landscape.

After twenty more minutes of silent driving, the SUV slowed, turning onto a road that had no street sign. A tall fence materialized in the headlights, chain-link topped with coils of razor wire that gleamed dully in the darkness. A guard booth stood at the entrance, illuminated by harsh floodlights that created pools of white light against the asphalt.

The SUV stopped. Phillips lowered his window and presented an ID card to the guard, who examined it briefly before nodding. The gate slid open with a mechanical hum.

“Security protocols?” Olennia asked as they drove through.

“Standard,” Phillips replied, which told her exactly nothing.

Beyond the gate lay a compound of low concrete buildings arranged in a pattern around a central structure. No signs identified the facility. No flags flew. No insignias or logos marked any of the visible surfaces. The place existed in a state of deliberate anonymity, a blank spot on the map designed to draw no attention.

Olennia scanned for any identifying features as the SUV followed a paved drive toward the central building. Security cameras perched on poles at regular intervals, their lenses tracking the vehicle’s movement. Concrete barriers formed a perimeter around the main structure, positioned to prevent any vehicle from approaching at speed. More floodlights bathed the entire compound in harsh white light, eliminating shadows and creating the illusion of perpetual day.

This wasn’t a government facility she recognized, and as Press Secretary, she’d been to most of them. This place had the feel of something classified, something that existed off the books. The kind of site that housed projects the public wasn’t meant to know about.

The SUV stopped in front of the main building’s entrance, a set of metal doors flanked by more cameras and a keypad access panel. The engine went quiet. Phillips turned in his seat.

“We’re here, Ms. Fraser.”

Olennia’s mouth felt dry. Her fingers curled tighter around her purse strap as she looked through the windshield at the unmarked building. Nothing about this looked like a place where the White House Press Secretary would be needed for a legitimate briefing.

“And where exactly is here?” she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

“The verification site,” Walton repeated, already opening his door. “Please exit the vehicle.”