CHAPTER FIVE

Penelope's POV

My hands were wet with sweat as I gripped the knife from the kitchen counter. My pulse thundered in my ears as I moved silently around the dimly lit hotel room, my back pressed against the wall, scanning every shadow. The strange quiet sent chills down my spine. I was sure—someone had been here.

I stepped toward the open doorway, my breath shallow, the knife tight in my grasp. The hallway was empty. No sign of movement. Whoever had slipped away was gone.

And then—

A sharp buzz shattered the silence.

I gasped, whipping around, my heart hammering in my chest. My eyes landed on the nightstand, where Madison's phone lay face-up, its screen brightened.

Julien.

My fingers trembled as I picked it up. I was about to tell him. About Madison. About the blood. About everything.

But before I could get a word out, his voice came through, sharp and urgent.

"Where the hell are you?" he demanded.

I blinked, my breath hitching. "I—"

"The guests are waiting, Madison. You just disappeared in the middle of our anniversary party without a word. Do you have any idea what this night means?"

The realization hit me like a huge slap. No one knew Madison was lying here, almost lifeless on the cold marble floor. No one knew—except me. And the person who had slipped away.

Julien sighed, frustration lacing his tone. "Fred Alo is the largest French fashion house, and if we don't seal this collaboration tonight, the entire deal is gone. They want you there, Madison. If you don't show up, we lose everything."

I swallowed hard. This wasn't just a party. This was business.

I glanced down at Madison. Her motionless form. The blood.

I hated her. I hated her for everything she had done to me. But I couldn't let this deal fall apart for Julien. He had worked too hard for it.

"I'll be there," I said before I could think twice.

"Good," Julien muttered. "Suit up, we are making an impression."

The line went dead.

A sharp exhale left my lips. I turned back to Madison, the urgency rising in my chest.

I had to be her.

I yanked open her suitcase and pulled out another red dress—sleek, fitted, something she would wear to an event like this. My hands moved fast, unzipping her dress and peeling it off her cold, unmoving body. The sight of her undressed, naked, made my stomach twist, but I forced myself to keep going.

I stripped her of everything—jewelry, heels, even her undergarments—until she was nothing but skin and bruises. Bruises? That wouldn't be from Julien, right? Then, I put the fresh dress I had pulled out of her suitcase on me, fastening the straps, fixing the hem, making sure I looked exactly as she had before.

Slipping into her clothes felt like slipping into a ghost. The fabric clung to me like a second skin, making me into someone I wasn't.

I grabbed my phone—then hesitated.

No.

I switched our phones, placing mine beside her on the floor and tucking hers into her clutch as her grabbed it, ready to leave. If anyone called, they'd reach me, thinking I was Madison.

With a shaking hand, I dialed emergency services. I gave the address, the room number, my voice strangely calm.

Now, all I had to do was disappear.

I stepped into the hallway, pressing myself against the wall, waiting. Minutes went into hours. And then—sirens.

Red and blue lights flickered through the windows. Hotel security rushed toward the room, paramedics followings behind.

I turned and slipped out the back exit the minute i saw them wheel her out.

—

The nearest salon was two blocks away. I burst inside, my breath ragged.

"I need a wig," I told the stylist, a woman with a sleek bob and a sharp eye, who stood behind the counter at the front of the store.

 "Shoulder-length, blonde, layered. And I need it now."

The stylist raised an eyebrow, her gaze sweeping over me as if she was sizing me up. Her lips pursed in an expression of disapproval. "We have one in stock that fits your description," she said slowly, "but it's a high-end piece. The price tag is accordingly...not affordable."

I didn't hesitate. "Wrap it up," I said, pulling out a thick stack of bills from my pocket and slapping them onto the counter. I had gotten it from Madison's hotel. She had it on the table of her hotel room, sitting pretty and vulnerable. The stylist's eyes widened slightly as she counted the cash, her expression softening into a more accommodating smile.

"Right away," she said, immediately ringing up the sale and handing me a stylish bag containing my new blonde locks.

Minutes later, I walked out, my reflection in the salon's window nearly unrecognizable. The wig was perfect—Madison's exact shade, her exact cut. I looked exactly like her. Aside from the fact that we were identical, we both had little to no different features. Every features were copied and it would take an observant person to tell our difference.

One last thing left.

I opened Madison's phone and checked Julien's location. The last call he made was from the venue.

Thirty minutes away.

I flagged down a cab and leaned forward. "Double your pay if you make it in twenty."

—

The event hall was breathtaking. Crystal chandeliers. Towering floral arrangements. A sea of designer suits and glittering gowns.

The moment I stepped inside, my heels- Madison's heels- clicking against the marble, a strong grip yanked me back.

My stomach dropped.

I spun around—

And came face-to-face with Julien.

His dark green eyes burned into mine, his grip firm around my wrist.

"I searched everywhere for you, where were you?" he demanded, his voice low, sharp.

For a moment, I forgot to breathe. His face was the same—harsh angles, a jawline so sharp it could cut, those piercing eyes that once made my knees weak.

The same eyes that had once looked at Madison with love.

I forced myself to smile, tilting my chin up. "I got caught up in something," I said smoothly. "But I'm here now."

His grip didn't loosen. His eyes scanned my face, searching for something. Although, he appeared calm and unbothered, but his expression was unreadable. His expression had always been. I fought the urge to shift under his gaze.

Will he figure me out even before I go into act? Maybe I should tell him now.

Then, finally—he let go.

"Fred Alo is waiting," he muttered. 

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.

I wasn't going to screw this up.

Because the real Madison was lying in a hospital bed.

And tonight, I was her.

He starts moving but suddenly swirls around again, making me halt, my heart pounding.

"I'm counting on you - don't disappoint." He muttered, his face dangerously close to mine. Oh, heavens, will I survive tonight?