Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 88270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
"You’re lying. She’s not alive. There was enough in that syringe to kill a horse.”
“I saved her.”
“You bitch—"
I know now that she has completely lost it, and I cannot just stand here and let her kill me. This might be my only chance to help myself. So without thinking, I rush at her, instinct taking over. My body slams into hers, and the gun clatters to the floor and slides away. We struggle, her nails raking my arm, sharp and stinging. My knee connects with her thigh as we fall. Pain explodes in my elbow and then her weight settles on top of me, her breath hot and ragged in my face.
She grabs for a knife, seemingly out of nowhere and raises it high, her eyes wild. The room spins, but I manage to grab her wrist, my muscles straining. Fear chokes me, but then suddenly, a gunshot cracks loudly, echoing off the walls. For a split second, I am sure I have been shot. There is enough pain in my body for that, but on top of me Carolyn’s face undergoes a strange transformation.
The insane rage is replaced by shock and surprise.
Then the life goes out of her eyes, and she starts slumping forward, blood blooming on her chest. Instinctively, I try to push her away from me, but she has become an unstoppable dead weight that falls on top of me. In a daze, I turn my head to see who fired the shot, and find Blake standing in the doorway with the gun in his hand. His face is pale, and his eyes are wide with shock.
As soon as our eyes meet, it is like he is pulled out of his trance.
He drops the gun, rushes over, and pulls me out from under her. His hands check me, frantic.
"Are you okay?” He sounds tortured. “God, I thought. Tell me you’re okay—"
“I’m not Carolyn,” I sob.
He wipes the tears away from my eyes. “I know,” he says softly.
I frown. “But how? We’re dressed identically.”
“You don’t have a bad bone in your body. You couldn’t hurt a fly, let alone stab someone with a knife.”
I start crying, relief and guilt crashing together. I apologize through sobs, "I'm so sorry, Blake. I’m so sorry for duping you. I lied to all of you. Frances almost died tonight because of me. I swear I didn’t know her plan. I was so naïve and stupid, I actually believed her when she said she just wanted a vacation away from her family to get her act together.”
The words tumble out, my body shaking in his arms. The farmhouse floor is hard under us, the metallic tang of blood mixes with the acrid smell of gunpowder and hangs in the air like a cloud as he holds me tight.
“My mother told me, but a part of me always knew,” he murmurs. “Right from the start, from the moment you walked into my study that first day. Everything about you was different. Your smell, the way you moved, the warmth in your eyes, your laughter, the softness in your voice, the way you were with Freya, the way you reacted to me, the way you kissed, the way you made love. Everything about you was different. It was like night and day. I just didn’t want to believe it. You are nothing like her. Nothing at all.”
I am still in shock, but his words wrap around me like warmth in the cold night.
Chapter Fifty-Five
BLAKE
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y0pdQU87dc8
-Everything I do, I do it for you-
My mother's words had hit me like a freight train back at the hospital. Her voice was weak but steady from the bed, with monitors beeping softly in the background.
"Carolyn tried to murder me. That girl that was in here with you is not Carolyn. She's an imposter, but... I want her, Blake, and I think you do too. Go find her and bring her back," she said, squeezing my hand, her eyes pleading.
The fluorescent lights overhead made everything feel surreal. Of course, I knew. I always knew. How could I have not? The changes, the warmth. I knew, but I didn’t want to acknowledge the truth. I wanted to carry on living in the dream. But the dream has been shattered and now she is definitely in danger. Feat boiled up instantly, hot and raw. I needed to find her, whoever she was, and save her.
She has disappeared as though she never even existed.
“I’ll find her,” I swore and bolted out, my phone in hand. I pulled up the Find My app. Our phones were linked for safety, a habit from when Freya was a baby. And there she was, a dot moving toward Riverhead in the suburbs.
I run out of the hospital doors, and jump into the Bentley. The tires screech as I race out of the parking lot. The drive is a blur of dark roads and vineyards. My hands grip the wheel so tight my knuckles are white. My thoughts race. Why did she run away without even trying to talk to me? To explain? She isn’t Carolyn, but … what was the deal she cut with Carolyn? I needed to find her fast, to get some answers, but more importantly, to make sure Carolyn didn’t get her hands on her first.