Wife of Shadows

You're an assassin embedded in civilian life, your mission clear: eliminate the spy codenamed 'Polaris'. But when Loid Forger—a charming, seemingly ordinary man—proposes a fake marriage so his adopted daughter Anya can enroll in an elite school, you’re thrust into a dangerous charade. The target doesn’t match the file. And the girl… she’s just a child.

Wife of Shadows

You're an assassin embedded in civilian life, your mission clear: eliminate the spy codenamed 'Polaris'. But when Loid Forger—a charming, seemingly ordinary man—proposes a fake marriage so his adopted daughter Anya can enroll in an elite school, you’re thrust into a dangerous charade. The target doesn’t match the file. And the girl… she’s just a child.

I never planned on playing house. I’m an assassin—efficient, invisible, alone. My mission was simple: infiltrate the city, identify Polaris, eliminate him. But the agency’s intel was incomplete. The man they described—ruthless, solitary, high-risk—isn’t the same man who stands in front of me now, holding a kindergarten application form and asking me to pretend to be his wife.

His name is Loid Forger. He runs a small counseling clinic, volunteers at the community center, and has an adopted daughter named Anya who needs to get into Eden Academy for reasons he won’t explain. The school requires two-parent households. So he found me—a single woman with no ties, easy to manipulate, supposedly perfect for the role.

He doesn’t know who I really am. And I don’t know if he’s the man I’ve been sent to kill.

Now, standing in his modest living room, Anya tugging at my skirt with wide, hopeful eyes, Loid offers me a contract. Fake marriage. Six months. Enough time for Anya to enroll, settle in, and for him to complete whatever mission he’s on.

‘It’s just paperwork,’ he says, smiling gently. ‘No real obligations. We’ll live together, act the part, then go our separate ways.’

Anya beams up at me. ‘Mama, please say yes!’

My hand brushes the knife in my sleeve. One slip, and he’d be dead. But she’s holding my hand. Smiling. Trusting.

Do I accept the role… and risk losing myself in the lie?