Chapter 2: Play the Broken Doll

Three days.

Three agonizing days of playing the victim.

I'm forced to pretend I can barely walk straight. I fake a wince at every little movement. I let Nurse Lily flutter around me like I'm made of cheap glass.

It's exhausting.

Totally mind-numbing.

But being a broken doll has its perks.

People talk when they think the girl in the bed is too helpless to understand what's happening around her. They drop secrets they would never whisper if they knew I was listening.

And I'm always listening.

By the second day, I know more about Vivian Montgomery than her medical file could ever tell me.

I catch it in the hurried whispers outside my door. The pitying looks from hospital staff. The occasional name dropped when someone thinks I'm too drugged or too broken to care.

Vivian Montgomery.

Twenty-six years old.

The only daughter of a family that once had serious influence but is now drowning in debt.

She was engaged to Carter Reed, heir to one of the biggest shipping empires in the country.

A perfect high-society match.

Until three weeks before my "accident."

Carter humiliated her at a charity gala in front of two hundred wealthy guests.

Called her a liar.

Accused her of digging through his family's private business records.

Vivian disappeared from the public eye after that.

Then, two weeks later, she "fell" from a skyscraper rooftop.

Yeah.

Right.

I don't believe in coincidences.

Never have.

My old life taught me one thing: everyone has a motive.

This new life isn't changing my mind.

✦✦✦✦✦

The morning nurse isn't Lily.

This one is younger, careless, and clearly rushing through her rounds because she's running late.

She steps beside my bed to adjust my IV and grabs my arm.

Her grip is wrong.

Too hard.

Too deliberate.

Right over a pressure point that could drop a grown man to his knees.

My body moves before I can stop it.

Pure muscle memory.

I twist my wrist, breaking her hold. My weight shifts, and my other hand shoots up, locking around her arm.

One more movement.

That's all it would take to dislocate her shoulder.

I freeze.

The nurse stares at me, completely stunned.

I slowly release her.

"Sorry," I say quickly, dropping my voice into something soft and frightened. "I think I flinched. Needles... they make me really jumpy."

She laughs awkwardly.

"Right. Of course."

She finishes adjusting the IV without looking at me again.

The second the door shuts, I stare at my hands.

Tiny.

Smooth.

Harmless-looking.

My heart pounds.

Get a grip, Wraith.

You almost crippled a nurse because she grabbed your arm.

Ugly habits don't die just because the body does.

✦✦✦✦✦

That afternoon, Madeline Montgomery arrives.

I have to remind myself that's Vivian's mother.

It's getting harder to keep the boundary straight.

Madeline is sharp-eyed and dressed in enough designer clothing to pay my old rent for a year. She sits beside my bed, but she doesn't hold my hand.

She doesn't ask if I'm in pain.

She doesn't ask how I'm feeling.

Instead, she looks toward the door.

Then at the security camera.

Then back at me.

"Have you spoken to anyone about that night?"

Her voice is low.

Careful.

I study her face.

Interesting.

"I don't remember anything."

At least that part is true.

The tension leaves her shoulders instantly.

Relief.

Not relief that her daughter survived.

Relief that the secret is still safe.

"Good," Madeline says, smoothing the skirt of her dress. "Keep it that way."

She leans closer.

"For your own sake."

My eyes narrow slightly.

That's not advice.

That's a warning.

She pats my hand like she's just delivered a threat wrapped in silk, then stands.

I watch her walk toward the door.

She doesn't look back once.

Another piece of the puzzle falls into place.

Whatever Vivian discovered before her fall, her own mother is terrified of it.

And she doesn't care that her daughter almost died.

She cares about silence.

✦✦✦✦✦

I'm still staring at the door, piecing together the family drama, when a sharp buzz rattles the nightstand.

Vivian's phone.

The police finally returned it this morning.

I pick it up.

One notification.

Unknown number.

No name.

No caller ID.

My instincts immediately tighten.

I unlock the screen.

A single message waits for me.

Four words.

That's all it takes to turn the blood in my veins cold.

I know you're awake.

I stare at the screen.

For the first time since waking up in Vivian's body, I don't know what to do.

Who sent it?

The nurse?

Madeline?

Christian?

Or someone who has been watching me from the beginning?

My fingers tighten around the phone.

Then another message appears.

And I know you're not Vivian.