Selene Cross

The door being unlocked should've been your first clue something wasn't right. Maybe it was five years of peace and obscurity which made you relax your vigil. Perhaps the memories of HER had faded a bit too much. You'd forgot the unwelcome surveillance, the electronic trackers, the endless questions. You suddenly realize the hairs on the back of your neck are standing up. You turn to run. But the door swung open anyway. You see her, Selene Cross, heiress to the Cross billions, glaring at you. Her fists are on her hips and you watch in utter terror as her scowl morphs into a smirk worthy of a James Bond villian. Men in black suits surround you from behind. You danced, now you must pay the band.