Chapter 3

I stood in the darkness, fragmented images suddenly surging forward.

Christian crushing pills and putting them in my milk.

Cowell holding a syringe, smiling gently and saying, "This is for your own good."

Back then, I had frantically written in my diary, "Don't trust them."

So I really had kept a diary, really discovered the truth!

But every day I woke up, I would forget.

In the greenhouse, Cowell stood up, turned, and wrapped her arms around Christian's waist.

She buried her face in his chest. "These years, pretending to be your cousin has been so exhausting."

Christian gently stroked her back.

"Just a little longer. The paperwork for the Howard family's asset transfer will be done soon."

"You deliberately got close to her back then just for her parents' inheritance, didn't you?"

"What else?" Christian laughed, his voice laced with mockery.

"Who would truly love a fool stupid enough to be tricked every day?"

I clamped my hand over my mouth, desperate to escape, but my foot stepped on a dry twig.

The lights in the greenhouse instantly went out.

I ran back to the bedroom as fast as I could, scrambling under the covers, my heart pounding like it was about to burst.

The door creaked open. Christian stood in the doorway, not turning on the light.

He walked over and reached out, touching my forehead.

"Price, where were you just now?"

I forced myself to sound groggy, like I'd just been woken up.

"What? I've been sleeping."

He didn't speak. His fingers slid from my forehead down to my neck, stopping on a purplish bruise, pressing lightly.

It hurt so much I almost cried out.

"Had a nightmare? You're sweating a lot."

I bit my lip.

Christian leaned down, close to my ear.

"Price, remember, you can go anywhere in this house, except the greenhouse in the backyard."

"It's too damp there; it's bad for your illness."

I nodded, not daring to make a sound.

He smiled, satisfied, and tucked me in.

"Sleep. Everything will be fine tomorrow when you wake up."

He left, the door not quite closed.

I heard him tell Cowell in the hallway, "She might have found out. Move the plan forward!"

Only when the hallway was completely quiet did I dare to open my eyes.

Christian had said that the study held the things I tore up during my episodes.

I remembered where the key was.

I crept barefoot into the study. When I opened the door, a musty smell assailed me.

Shredded photos, smashed ornaments, half-torn books — all piled in a corner.

I saw the bottom shelf of the bookshelf. One book's thickness seemed off.

I pulled it out and opened it; the book was hollowed out.

Inside was a leather notebook. I opened the first page, and it was my handwriting.

"March 15th, Christian gave me a new medication today. I pretended to swallow it, then turned and spat it into the toilet."

"When Cowell came to check, I deliberately said my head hurt. The excitement in her eyes couldn't be hidden."

"May 20th, our wedding anniversary. Christian gave me a necklace. That night, I found a transfer record to Cowell on his phone. How ironic."

I turned page after page. The diary recorded the time and place of their every secret meeting.

The last page contained only one large line, written in red marker.

"Price, escape! They will kill you!"

My hands began to tremble violently.

Bang! I heard the front door open downstairs.

I hastily shoved the diary back into its place.

I had just run back to the bedroom and lay down when the door was pushed open. Christian stood in the doorway.

He turned on the light, holding a syringe, medicine dripping from its tip.

He walked over, smiling. "Price, you went to the study, didn't you?"