Chapter 4

June’s Pov

When I opened my eyes again, the room was quieter. The woman was sitting beside my bed, scrolling through her phone, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the screen.

I tried to speak, my throat still raw and dry. “What… happened?”

She looked up immediately, her face lighting up with relief. “Oh my God, my baby, you’re awake!” She set her phone down and leaned closer. “Sarah and Amelia just left not too long ago. Your father will be here soon. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

My father?

“What happened?” I asked again, my voice stronger this time.

She reached for my hand, squeezing it gently. “You were on your way to pick up the ring for the wedding, and then you had an accident. You fell unconscious for five days. Five whole days.” Her voice cracked. “Your father with his crazy theories and all, I don’t know what happened, but thank God you’re alive now.”

Wedding? Ring? None of this made any sense.

“Dad?” I whispered.

“Yeah,” she said with a small smile. “You know how he is with all that scientist shit. But you’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

I stared at her, trying to piece together what she was saying, but nothing fit. I didn’t recognize this woman. I didn’t recognize any of what was happening.

“I don’t understand,” I said slowly. “I don’t remember anything. But I’m not Chloe.”

She frowned, her expression shifting to concern. “Honey, you are Chloe. You’re my daughter.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. The movement made everything spin, and I had to close my eyes for a moment. “I’m not. I’m June.”

“Chloe—”

“What happened to my babies?” I demanded, my voice rising again. “What happened to them?”

She looked genuinely confused now, almost scared. “You weren’t pregnant. Did you hide it from me? Did you hide them from me?”

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t sit here and listen to her tell me things that didn’t make sense. “I just want to be alone,” I said, my voice breaking. “Please.”

“I’m here to stay with you—”

“Please go,” I begged. “I don’t want anyone here right now.”

She hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Okay, baby. Take your time. I’m going to go.”

The door clicked shut behind her, and I was finally alone.

I stared up at the ceiling, my mind racing. Frederick. The gun. The man who shot me. The babies. All of it came flooding back in painful, vivid detail. Was it all a dream? Had I imagined it?

I tried to sit up, biting back a gasp as pain shot through my body. Everything felt wrong. My limbs were too long, too light. My body didn’t move the way it was supposed to.

I looked down at my hands again. They still weren’t mine.

There was a small mirror on the table beside the bed. I reached for it, my fingers trembling, and slowly lifted it to my face.

The woman staring back at me wasn’t June.

She had different eyes. A different nose. Different skin. Different everything.

Holy shit.

This wasn’t my body.

Whose body was I in?

My whole world was spinning. What the fuck? How was this even possible?

I gripped the edge of the bed, my fingers digging into the thin hospital sheets as I looked around frantically. My eyes scanned every corner of the room, searching for something, anything that made sense. Where was my phone? I needed my phone. I needed to call Blue, to call someone, anyone who could get me out of here.

I pulled at my hospital gown, checking the pockets even though I knew there wouldn’t be any. Nothing. Just thin fabric and the cold bite of air conditioning against my skin. I looked down at the IV taped to my arm, the clear tube snaking up to a bag of fluids hanging beside the bed.

How did I even get here?

The last thing I remembered was the gun. The man’s face. The deafening bang. The pain exploding through my chest. I remembered dying. I was sure of it. So who brought me to the hospital? And why? What the hell had happened to me?

I need to get out of here.

The thought came sharp and clear, cutting through the fog of confusion. I had to leave. I had to figure out what was going on before I lost my mind completely.

I pushed myself up slowly, every muscle protesting, and shuffled toward the door. Part of it was glass, and I pressed my face close, peering out into the hallway. No sign of Sarah or Amelia. No sign of the woman who claimed to be my mother.

What sort of joke is this?

Maybe it was a prank. Maybe I was dreaming. I raised my hand and slapped myself hard across the face.

“Ouch.”

The sting was sharp and real. Definitely not a dream.

I took a deep breath and reached for the door handle, turning it slowly. The hallway was quiet, a few nurses moving between rooms, but no one was paying attention to me. Good.

I stepped out, keeping my head down, and started walking. My legs felt weak and shaky, but I forced them to move. One step. Then another. I just needed to find a phone. I knew Blue’s number by heart. I could call her. She’d help me. She had to.

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure no one was following me.

And then I slammed straight into someone.

“Sorry, sorry,” I muttered, stumbling backward.

I looked up.

And my blood turned to ice.

It was him.

The man from the restaurant. The one who shot me.

“You,” I breathed, my voice shaking. “You fucking shot me. You killed my babies!”

He just stood there, staring at me with those cold, unreadable eyes. No reaction. No guilt. Nothing.

Something inside me snapped. I lunged at him, my fists pounding against his chest. “You killed my babies! You killed them!”

He caught my wrists easily, his grip firm but not painful. “What the fuck are you doing?” he said, his voice flat.

“Chloe!”

The voice came from behind me. I turned to see the woman, my so-called mother, rushing down the hallway with another man beside her. He was older, dressed in a white coat with a name tag I couldn’t read from this distance. A senior doctor, maybe. Or is that my so-called father?

“What is this, Chloe? What’s the problem?” the woman asked, her face twisted with concern and confusion.

“Stop calling me that!” I shouted, jerking my hands free from the man’s grip. “I am not Chloe! I don’t know what you people did or what kind of sick game this is, but I am not her! And this man, this man killed my babies. He fucking killed my babies!”

“I can see your daughter is running mad, Mrs. Alice.” The man who shot me said, pulling a stack of papers from his briefcase. “Well, I came here for you to sign the marriage papers. I don’t have time for this. I don’t even want to be here.”

He tossed the papers at me who caught them without even looking. “Just get it signed and let’s get this over with. Nobody wants this.”

Marriage papers?

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I demanded, my voice rising. “I am never marrying him!”

The woman, Mrs. Alice—my mother  stepped closer, her expression softening. “Chloe, stop this. I know you probably came out of a bad state, but you shouldn’t react like this. You need to sign the marriage papers now. If you don’t, there are so many things that are going to happen.”

“I am never signing those papers,” I said through gritted teeth. “This man killed my babies.”

The doctor—my father, shook his head. “You probably have amnesia and all that, but trust me, you’ll be fine. It’s just a matter of time. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself.”

The man who shot me just stood there, watching me with that same stone-cold expression. 

“You want me to sign, right?” I said, my voice trembling with fury.

He tilted his head slightly. “You don’t have a choice.”

I really don’t have a choice. I don’t know where to go. 

I stared at him for a long moment, my chest heaving. Then I snatched the papers from his hand. “Okay. I’ll sign.”

Mrs. Alice’s face lit up. “Oh, thank you, baby. I know this isn’t supposed to be easy, but—”

I didn’t let her finish. I scrawled my name across the bottom of the page, my hand shaking so hard the letters came out jagged and uneven. There. Done.

“Congratulations, sweetie” Mrs. Alice said, her voice filled with relief. She turned to the man. “Where are the rings?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, tossing it to her without a word.

She caught it awkwardly, laughing nervously as she opened it. Inside were two silver bands, simple and elegant. She pulled one out and reached for my hand. “They look so pretty on you.”

I stared down at the ring on my finger, cold and foreign.

The doctor cleared his throat. “Well, she’s already okay, so she’s going to be discharged today. We’ll be monitoring her from home, from your house.”

Wait.

“Wait,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “This son of a bitch, killed my babies?”

“He did not kill anybody,” Mrs. Alice said firmly.

I ignored her and turned to the man. “And now I have to live with him?”

He looked at me for the first time since the papers were signed, his expression unreadable. “Yes. You have to live with me. Do you have any problem with that?” He paused, and something flickered in his eyes. “This is what you’ve always wanted, Chloe. Why are you running now?”