AMELIA
It was nighttime.
I could tell, even without opening my eyes, by the hushed silence and the chirping of insects somewhere far away.
"Please let this all have been a dream," I prayed silently to whoever was up there listening.
All I wanted was for all that had happened in the last few days to be a trance I had been having while in a coma.
But when I opened my eyes, I was still in the same hospital room with the beeping machines, the adjustable bed, and the white walls.
The thought that I was back to my old self had me reaching with shaky hands for the metal tray at my bedside. Quickly, I poured away the contents, flipped it over, and studied my reflection.
My heart sank.
It was still the same vivid red hair, pretty freckled face, and smooth skin staring back at me.
I was still trapped in the body of Emma Mitchell.
Someone began to wheeze, and I realized an instant later that it was me.
The panic had started to take over. It was difficult to draw in a breath.
I suddenly felt that if I kept lying there, staring at the blank white walls, I would go mad. The walls seemed to be closing in on me.
Thank goodness Alexander was not in the room. I wouldn't have known how to deal with him now. If I had had to look at his handsome, jeering face, I would probably have lost it.
Fresh air. Yes.
That was what I needed to clear my head.
I swung my legs out of bed and felt a tug and a sharp, little pain at the back of my hand.
I was hooked up to an IV.
Impatiently, I pulled out the needle.
I was hurrying to the door when it opened.
A tall, fair nurse gave me an exclamation. Her light blue eyes widened.
"Mrs. Pierce!" she gasped, quickly dropping the tray and glass of water she had brought and reaching for me.
I shrank back.
"What are you doing out of bed at this time? It's past 2 a.m.! If you had wanted something, you could have just pressed the button by the bed." She pointed at the little red button. "I was just bringing you water—"
"I don't want anything," I interrupted.
"Oh. Couldn't sleep?" she asked kindly. "I understand. I could ask the doctor if I could bring you a little something to help you sleep."
"I don't want anything!" I snapped, resisting the urge to stamp my foot like an angry child.
I knew everyone was trying to help—maybe with the exception of Alexander, who hated my, well, Emma's, guts—but I just wished they would all leave me alone to figure this craziness out.
"I wanted to go out to get some fresh air," I explained.
The nurse looked surprised. She had gently held my arm, trying to lead me to the bed. I refused to move. I brushed her hand away.
"But you are not yet fit to go out on your own," she protested.
"I can talk and move, can't I? Besides, I didn't say I was going home, just outside. There is nothing wrong with someone who woke up from a coma wanting to get some air, is there? Or am I a prisoner here?"
"Of course you aren't, but you're still under observation. I would probably lose my job if I let you walk out that door."
She glanced at the curtain, which someone had drawn fully closed. Her lips thinned, and she looked a little angry, though her anger seemed directed at someone else, not me.
"There are reporters crawling all over the hospital."
"Reporters?"
"Yes. One or two of them even tried to pretend they had come to visit patients here just to get an idea of where exactly you are."
She heaved a deep sigh.
"The lengths these people will go to is beyond me. The hospital's security has been working overtime ever since you regained consciousness. If these reporters spotted you, Mrs. Emma, they wouldn't even care that you're recovering. They'll take pictures of you, and... I don't need to paint the whole picture. I'm sure that as popular as you are, you have had your share of trying to handle annoying reporters."
"But why?" I asked, forgetting for a bit my need to go outside. "Why is the media so interested in me?"
"Because you're *the* Emma Mitchell," was the response. "The news of your sudden recovery is the biggest news since... well, since forever."
I was going to be stuck in Emma's body for a while. I realized that now. So I figured it would be wise, even necessary, to know as much as I could about the woman whose body I was wearing.
"Please," I said, allowing her to lead me back to the bed. "Tell me who exactly I am and why I'm obviously so important."
The nurse started to say something, stopped, and bit her lip.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I keep forgetting that you don't really remember who you are. Hold on. I think this will explain better."
From the pocket of her scrubs, she pulled out a phone and quickly typed something. I guessed she was searching for my name on the internet.
I really needed to demand a personal phone. I felt so out of touch without one.
"Here," the nurse said, handing her phone over to me. "This one is a pretty detailed article about you. You are..."
She was saying something else, but I wasn't listening anymore.
I stared at the picture of the redhead on the screen. Emma Mitchell, dressed in a dark-colored corporate gown that complemented her complexion, posed for the cover of a popular magazine.
She looked beautiful, successful, and confident.
The fact that I looked exactly like that now was hard to take in.
After a moment or two, I dragged my eyes away from the picture to read the article. A paragraph caught my eye.
"...Emma Mitchell, married to Alexander Pierce, a young man from an equally wealthy and influential family. Emma is the daughter of the popular business tycoon and billionaire, Timothy Mitchell..."
Timothy Mitchell.
I frowned as I thought of that name. It sounded familiar, like something I had heard before and recently too.
I stopped reading and thought, hoping that the nurse would not interrupt me.
She didn't. Humming to herself, she moved around the room, fluffing the pillows, straightening the bedsheets, and arranging the objects on the table.
Suddenly, I sat up and gasped. In a flash, it had come to me. I not only knew Timothy Mitchell. I had met and even talked to him.
Like it was yesterday, I remembered my business trip to Italy, the last trip I had gone on before I was murdered.
In an exclusive hotel, I had met him—a tall, broad-shouldered elderly man, easy to talk to, but with a masterful presence.
I had gotten the impression that he was a proud and stubborn man, not easily convinced. Everyone at the meeting had treated him with respect, but I had noticed they had been distant.
But over drinks, when the business meeting was over, the talk between us had drifted to family.
I had been gushing about Samuel, about how he was such a loving and caring husband, and about my adopted daughter, Sophie, when he suddenly seemed to age before my very eyes.
His green eyes—a lot like Emma's now that I thought about it—had grown soft and sad.
"My family too used to be a happy one," he had said with a sigh. "Although we have had challenges in the past, just like every other family, I guess. Now my daughter, Emma, is sick. The doctors don't know when or if she will recover, and all my money can't save her."
Oh, shit!
To think that I was now in the body of the daughter of the very same man I had felt sorry for!
This had to be more than a coincidence.
Was fate or the universe playing a trick on me? Just what the hell was going on?
"Mrs. Emma?" I heard the nurse say, a worried note in her voice. "Is there a problem?"
She came over to glance at the phone in my hand.
I wanted to say "no," but there were a lot of thoughts going around in my head, and I couldn't really think straight.
"Maybe," said the voice at the back of my head. "Maybe the man you met is a completely different person from this Emma's father."
It was possible that they were two different people with daughters who had the same name.
I had just decided to do a quick G****e search of his picture when I heard a heavy step at the door.
As the nurse went over to it, Timothy Mitchell, looking exactly as I remembered, walked in.
AMELIA"Mr. Mitchell," the startled nurse squeaked, checking her watch, probably to be sure of the time.Timothy Mitchell had lost a little weight since I had last seen him, but his face broke into a smile as he hurried over.He came to a stop in front of me, placing two large hands on my shoulders."My girl. My girl," he said and promptly pulled me into a hug.I immediately stiffened. He did not seem to notice. He smelled of some musky, expensive perfume. Being hugged this close by a man I had only met once was bad enough. When he planted a kiss on the top of my head, it was just too much.I pulled back. It took a few seconds before he noticed I was pulling away and a few seconds more before he released me."You're hugging me too tightly," I said, rubbing my ribs, which were perfectly fine, and wincing."Oh, I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry," he said. "I was just so excited to see you and—"He broke off when the nurse came close."Are you alright, Ms. Emma?" she asked, then she saw t
ALEXANDER "Damned bottle!" I muttered to myself as the whiskey bottle slipped to the edge of the table. I managed to grab it before it could hit the floor. I glued it to my lips and gulped down half of it. The alcohol warmed my insides. I told myself getting wasted was a shitty way of avoiding a problem I would have to deal with anyway and told myself to get it together. That advice lasted for all of thirty seconds. And then I was on my feet again, stumbling to the minibar off the living room to get another drink. "Screw this," I cursed. In a few days, maybe a week, Emma would be back to this house and back into my life. Again. I staggered back to my chair. Who in their right mind would want to live with Emma Mitchell, the snooty spoilt brat of a very wealthy man? Certainly not me. I had to admit though that I was sort of glad she had woken up from the coma. Sort of. At least now I wouldn't continue to be hounded by the media. In three whole years, they hadn't le
AMELIAThe nurse brought in the phone about an hour after I had woken up."Your husband brought it over," she said, handing it to me. I nodded my thanks. When Alexander had stopped by the day before, I had asked him to get me my phone—Emma's phone. I could barely wait for the nurse to do her routine check-up and leave. Now I was going to be stuck in her body, and after what Timothy had told me, I really wanted to find out more about Emma. When the nurse left, I was stumped for a bit. How could I open Emma's phone when I didn't know her password? But I needn't have worried. The phone had face recognition. I sat tapping the screen for a while, thinking. In the search bar of the phone's browser, I quickly typed: *Emma Pierce attempts suicide.* A whole lot of results came up. I clicked on each link, reading the stories of Emma Pierce with growing sadness and horror. First, Emma had started to slit her wrists and had been stopped by Alex. The family had tried to deny this, but in th
Third-person Pov "I thought you said she was getting better," Alex said. He dragged his eyes away from the pale, sleeping figure on the hospital bed and turned his attention to the doctor who was packing away his equipment. "What is wrong with her? Why did she just... collapse like that?" The doctor sighed. "She is recovering very well," the doctor assured him. "I think this er—episode was caused by stress. Seeing the outside world and lots of people after such a long time must have triggered all her stress hormones. I really wasn't in support of her going out so soon, but..." The doctor trailed off and shrugged. Alex could complete the doctor's statement if he wished. Timothy Mitchell had most likely ordered that his daughter be allowed out of the hospital all so she could get her memory back as soon as possible. Like his daughter, Timothy always got what he wanted. "So what happens now?" Alex asked. "Well, she will be monitored really closely from now. Obviously, she ca
AMELIA'S POV The doctor and nurse stood in a corner of the room, talking and doing that thing where they compared notes on my case. I really wasn't paying attention. My thoughts were a million miles away. "Looking good, Mrs. Pierce."I looked up to see the doctor reading something off the charts close to my bed. He was smiling, and that, to me, was a good thing. "How is it?" I asked him, happy that even my voice sounded stronger. "How am I doing?""Good. Really good. You're making a lot of progress and—""Does this mean I'm allowed out of the hospital now?" The nurse and doctor exchanged a quick look. "Well... yes," the doctor said, drawing out the word. "I don't see why not. But you have to be careful to take it easy. We wouldn't want what happened last time to repeat itself..."He went on and on with the advice. I made sure I nodded and said yes in all the right places. Anything that would get me out of here and help me get a deeper look into Emma's mind. I had realized that
AMELIA"Me kill you?"Alexander smiled a little. It was one of those smiles that was worse than a scowl or a glare. He took his eyes off the road for a moment to glance at me. "Emma," he said. "Let me put it this way. You're every murderer's dream. You're the kind of girl who has enemies everywhere, the kind of girl who the cops would have a hard time finding the murderer simply because there would be lots of motives from lots of different people."The car wasn't particularly cold, but I found myself shivering a little. The cold-blooded way he was analyzing my question gave me the chills. Was this his way of admitting that he had something to do with Emma's accident? "Now let me tell you the truth. I, for one, have wished you dead more times than I can count.""You—you have?" I stuttered. He chuckled and snuck another glance at me. "Does that bother you so much? I'm sure you've felt the same, only you don't remember. But while I had hoped death would get you out of my life for goo
AMELIAIt was not a very classy place, this bar. It was not a place I had expected a rich, spoiled girl like Emma to frequent. The furnishings were mostly cheap, but at least the place was clean. And not crowded. Right now I could not deal with crowds. "Go on," Alexander urged. I took a step past the door and kept going. A jukebox played quiet music in the background. I took my time, looking around, focusing on objects, especially stuff that looked like it had been around for a long time. I waited for the spark, for a flash of something. Anything. As the seconds ticked past, I realized this wasn't working. I turned to tell Alexander this when the air was split with a shriek of "Emma!"It took a moment to remember my name was supposed to be Emma. I looked towards the source of the sound. A young woman, pretty in a pale, washed-out way and not much older than Emma, was sliding down a bar stool, almost tripping over her ridiculously high heels. Her mouth was open in surprise. Sh
AMELIAThe last of Bill's anger went away. His eyes grew very sad. I had gotten my answer. Over the counter, Rose took my hands and held them tightly in her small ones. "I did. Didn't I?" I said. "Yes, love," she said softly. "But that was long ago. You were a mess then. You started getting better at some point."I had read somewhere that some suicidal people, especially after being caught attempting suicide the first time, would fake happiness for a while while they got ready for the next attempt."Are you sure I had not been... pretending?" I asked. Bill's answer was firm. He shook his shaggy head. "No. I'm a good judge of people. I would stake my collection of booze-" He waved a massive arm in the general direction of the shelves behind the counter where an impressive array of drinks were arranged. "-on the fact that you were actually getting better.""That's final, Emma. That collection is his baby. Surprised he can even bear to sell them. If he swears by them, then you're good
ALEXI tapped my finger impatiently on my desk, waiting for my computer to finish the search for the documents I wanted. The loading icon circled on and on and showed no signs of stopping. It was slow, but today had been a damned slow day. In fact, everything had been a little shitty lately. Just as the folder I wanted popped up on the screen, the door to my office flew open."Didn't I tell you I didn't want to be dis—"I broke off as I raised my head. I saw not my secretary as I had expected but the one person that could make my day even worse. His considerable paunch led the way in after he shut the door behind him. "What are you doing here?" I asked him, making sure I made my irritation obvious.Whatever his reason for being here, it couldn't be good. Even if it somehow was, we would end up arguing over something, anything. This had happened too many times in the past, and there was no reason to think that wouldn't be the case now. "Hello, Alex," my father, Matthew, said coolly
AMELIA"I have to get back to work."It was the second time in five minutes I was saying these words to Timothy Mitchell. I said it as much to myself as to him. I couldn't keep on hiding out at the house any longer. To get revenge on Samuel and Sophie, I had to be in the public eye again and attend galas, business dinners, and summits, which Samuel would also be attending. Then and only then could I find a way to carefully weave my web around him until he got caught in a trap he couldn't wiggle his way out of. "I know, honey," Timothy said. "But you're definitely getting your old job back whether you resume this week, next week, or even next month."I transferred the phone to my other ear so I could slip on my shoes. It was almost ten minutes to the hour I had set to leave the house. Timothy sensed my growing impatience. He continued quickly, "What I'm trying to say is that the company isn't running away. It's waited three years for you. It can wait a little more. You take some mor
AMELIAI couldn't decide which was redder: Liane's hair or her face. It was as red as a stop sign, a guilty tell if I ever saw one.The silence in the room lengthened, and then Liane started to stutter, "E-Ema, how could you—why would you imply something like that?"I shifted a little in my chair so I could look her dead in the eye. "It's a simple question, Liane. Never mind what I am not implying. Have you, or have you not, been sleeping with Alexander?""No!" she said, but her refusal had come a second too late. She flinched away from my stare and suddenly couldn't meet my eyes anymore.I had my answer.Alexander's voice broke in. "Is this one of your bad, ill-timed jokes?"His eyes were fixed on his plate. His voice sounded totally calm and in control."Do I look like I'm joking?" I asked him. "You're sleeping with her. It's damned obvious.""I wouldn't ever do that to you, Emma," Liane wailed at the same time that Alexander said, "And if I was, how is that your business? It's not
Third-person POV Emily stared at the screen of her phone again in surprise. There was an incoming call from her father. He never called her, choosing instead to pretend like she didn't exist most of the time. As she picked up the phone, in her head, she quickly went over everything she could have possibly done wrong at the company. She got nothing. Or was someone else calling using his phone? The voice on the other end that said 'hello' was definitely Timothy Mitchell's. "Hello," Emily said tentatively. Timothy didn't waste any more time on pleasantries. He went straight to the point. "There is something very important I want to discuss with you in person. You're in town?""Yes?"Timothy exhaled. "Good. I would like us to meet as soon as possible. This evening will be ideal. You can come over to my place.""Is, um—this some kind of emergency?" Emily asked. "No. But it is urgent. Can I expect you tonight?""I think I would like you to give me a heads up first... Dad," Emily said
Third-person POV Alex heard voices coming from the living room area, Emma's was one of them, but he only noticed it in passing. When his foot was on the last stair, he saw her-Liane. There was that look on her face again, the look that said he was the only man in the world to her. The look was gone the next moment before Emma could notice.While he wasn't particularly uncomfortable as he and Emma had not really had any kind of relationship, he knew that it would be pretty awkward for her and anyone else to find out that he had been screwing her cousin. All this passed through Alex's mind in the space of a few seconds, and then he went all the way down the stairs. Deliberately looking the other way, he was heading for his study when Emma called his name. Loudly. There was no way he could pretend he hadn't heard her. Reluctantly he turned. "Yes?" Alexander was a snubbish jerk but she got the impression that he particularly wanted to snub Liane. She waved her hand in Liane's dire
AMELIAWhen I caught myself counting the number of bristles on my hairbrush, I decided I had had enough. Staying here was hell. I was slowly but surely getting bored to death. I hardly ever saw Alexander, and he never spoke to me. Apparently he had been serious about the rule of silence between us. All I had to talk to were the servants, and they seemed scared of me. No surprise there when you factored in the way Emma had treated them. I started to pace the room—my room. It was large, airy, and spacious, but lately it had started feeling like a prison or cage. My phone briefly lit up as a notification popped up on the screen. I grabbed it and called Timothy. He answered as soon as it began to ring. "Hi love, It's so good to hear from you," he gushed. I twirled a lock of my hair over and over on my finger as I patiently waited for him to go through his routine of asking me about a hundred times how I was doing. After he had run through his questions, I could finally get a word in
AMELIA "I think you should come home with me, pancake."I paused in the act of rechecking my bag to make sure I had not forgotten anything. "Pancake?" I said, raising a brow. Timothy Mitchell, looking a little embarrassed, tugged on his ear. "It's my pet name for you, honey," he said. "One of them."I continued rummaging around in my bag. It took him all of two seconds before he returned to his former argument. I thought he sounded like sales rep trying to pitch an idea to a client. "You may not remember it, but our family house, my house, is big. Huge. It has a—" He broke off, apparently deciding not to go down that road. "Emma, what I'm trying to say is being in the family house will definitely help you. There are a lot of things you liked there even as a child. I'm sure that seeing all of them will jumpstart your memory. I have everything it takes to take good care of you. You and I get along so well. It will be an opportunity for us to spend more time together. So what do
AMELIAIt was quiet in the car. Too quiet. Alexander's face was as inscrutable as always, but he still had to be seething because of his confrontation with Bill. I was a little overwhelmed after what I had heard. Maybe even more than a little. And yes, I was scared too. What if Alex was the killer Bill thought he was? I didn't really think so, but what if? If he had caused the accident and felt it could never be traced to him, what stopped him from trying again? I snuck a glance at Alex. He was concentrating on the road ahead. I forced myself to relax a little. A lot of people knew I was out with him, so I was safe. I hoped. "We're here. Get out."I snapped right out of a light doze and looked around. We were back at the hospital. I stifled a yawn. It had been a long day. I was very tired. "Go on," Alex urged without looking at me. "Aren't you going to take me inside?"Alex turned his head in my direction but didn't quite look at me. "Take you in? Why? You can walk, can't you?
AMELIAThe last of Bill's anger went away. His eyes grew very sad. I had gotten my answer. Over the counter, Rose took my hands and held them tightly in her small ones. "I did. Didn't I?" I said. "Yes, love," she said softly. "But that was long ago. You were a mess then. You started getting better at some point."I had read somewhere that some suicidal people, especially after being caught attempting suicide the first time, would fake happiness for a while while they got ready for the next attempt."Are you sure I had not been... pretending?" I asked. Bill's answer was firm. He shook his shaggy head. "No. I'm a good judge of people. I would stake my collection of booze-" He waved a massive arm in the general direction of the shelves behind the counter where an impressive array of drinks were arranged. "-on the fact that you were actually getting better.""That's final, Emma. That collection is his baby. Surprised he can even bear to sell them. If he swears by them, then you're good