Chapter 4

"Emily remained in the hospital for several days. Had she not been so understanding and insisted on stopping me, I would have notified the authorities to have you arrested," Maxwell snarled, his words piercing the air like sharp icicles.

I stood still, wordless, offering no justification. My lack of response only intensified his rage.

"You're no longer the Grace I once knew," he snarled. His voice wavered with exasperation as he gestured towards the exit. "Leave! Leave now! I don't ever want to see you again!"

Just like that, I was expelled from his residence.

The luggage I had prepared in advance now felt like both a weight and a lifeline. Pulling it behind me, I ventured into the tempestuous night, the frigid rain seeping through my attire and skin.

This was Maxwell's first time striking me—and it would be the last. But the pain wasn't from the blow. It stemmed from the reason behind it: another woman.

The roads were unnervingly empty, not a cab in view. I accessed the Lyft application, only to find 45 riders ahead in the queue. Resigned, I continued walking, my suitcase wheels rattling against the damp sidewalk.

After what seemed like an eternity, I finally stumbled upon a Budget Inn. I checked in, soaked and trembling, the sound of the tempest raging outside.

Rest eluded me that night. Tossing and turning, I felt a temperature rising, the warmth spreading through my body like a harsh reminder of the cold world I was departing. Fortunately, I still had pain relievers in my bag—my silent companion through countless sleepless nights.

By morning, the fever had subsided. I compelled myself to rise, swallow a cold remedy, and confront the day ahead.

It consumed half the day, navigating various departments and signing countless documents, but I finally completed my resignation process. As I exited the office building, a slight sense of relief washed over me. At least I hadn't encountered Maxwell.

In the afternoon, I obtained my New Zealand work permit without issue. I phoned Air New Zealand to confirm my reporting date, then reserved my flight to Auckland International Airport for two days later.

The following day, I visited the graveyard, carrying a bunch of sunflowers—Charlotte's preferred bloom.

She was my twin sister. Six years prior, while traveling along the dangerous Pacific Coast Highway, we were involved in an automobile accident. I escaped with minor wounds, but Charlotte remained frozen in time, forever 21.

The visage etched into her headstone exuded the same youthful allure that had always illuminated my life.

I knelt before her grave, my voice quivering. "Charlie, I'm departing for New Zealand. I may never return."

Tears clouded my vision as I murmured, "I'm sorry. I can't look after Maxwell for you anymore."

A harsh, mocking voice disrupted the silence.

"Don't fret, I'll take care of Maxwell from now on. You'd better hurry off to the southern hemisphere quickly and never return."

I hadn't noticed Emily's approach. Her presence made my insides churn.

I fixed her with an icy stare. "What brings you here?"

Emily smirked, her long, wavy locks cascading like a crown of arrogance. "Reeds are lush, white dew turns to frost. But it's unfortunate—you're just Grace. You'll never be Charlotte."

My voice was terse. "Emily, stop beating around the bush. What are you implying?"

Her words were like daggers, sharp and deliberate.

"Grace, do you truly believe that slipping into Maxwell's bed with the same face as your sister will make him love you?"

"Don't fool yourself," she sneered. "Charlotte is his white moonlight—the one he's always yearned for but can never possess. The love of his life, forever out of reach."

Her voice oozed with venom. "And you? At best, you're merely a substitute. A shadow to be summoned and dismissed at his whim."

I felt the color drain from my face, but I refused to let her see me crumble.

Emily's smile grew even more malicious. "You spend your sister's money, sleep with your sister's man... How shameless can you be? Aren't you afraid she'll come haunt you in the dead of night?"

I shook my head, my voice barely audible. "No... It's not like that."

Her cold laugh cut through me. "Stop deceiving yourself. If Maxwell truly loved you, why hasn't he ever discussed marriage? Why hasn't he ever acknowledged you publicly at the company?"

"Tell me," Emily's voice dripped with malice, "when he's intimate with you, does he call out Charlotte's name in his heart?"

Her words struck like a blade, and I felt my world disintegrate around me.

She persisted, her words cutting even deeper. "He once asked me, why didn't you perish in the car accident that year?"

The gravity of that question crashed into me like a tidal wave. Why didn't I die?

The final thread of my composure snapped.

Without thinking, I raised my hand and struck Emily across the face.

The world fell silent.

Maxwell's enraged roar shattered the stillness. "Grace, what the hell are you doing?"