Chapter 54
Chapter Fifty-Four
JULIET
Itake a step backwards and find that my back is now pressing against a wall, the rough plaster digging into my back.
My heart pounds so hard it echoes in my ears.
The room feels smaller now, the old wood beams overhead pressing down.
The lamp's light casts long shadows that twist her face, making our doppelganger similarity suddenly eerie, like looking in a warped mirror.
"Disposed of?" I repeat, my voice barely a whisper, disbelief flooding me. Emotion chokes my throat—fear, yes, but anger bubbles up hot too. My hands clench at my sides, nails digging into my palms as I try to steady the tremble.
She laughs softly, steps closer, and shakes her in wonder.
"You really thought this whole elaborate charade was just to give me a break?
A vacation in Europe while you played house with my husband?
" She pauses, her eyes narrowing—so similar to mine but harder, emptier. “Goodbye, Juliet. I want to thank you for making Blake fall in love with me again. I really thought that fire was dead. Maybe I won’t even need a divorce anymore.”
My mind races, internal thoughts tumbling—Blake, Freya, Frances's words "We want you" echoing like a lifeline. But here I am, trapped, with no proof, no way out. The farmhouse is isolated, so there are definitely no neighbors close enough to hear if I scream.
"I’ve got bad news for you, Carolyn. Frances is not dead," I blurt out, fear giving way to defiance. “Frances survived.” My hands unclench as I step sideways, slowly, toward the door. “She's alive—in the hospital. They’ve revived her. She saw you and knows you tried to kill her."
Carolyn’s face twists at this bit of news, shock flashing in her eyes. A sudden shriek of fury and frustration tears out of her mouth, and she raises the gun higher, her hand shaking now. The farmhouse floorboards creak like they are reacting to her rage.
"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 na?ve 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.