Chapter 8

The next few days brought a strange, fragile kind of joy to Charlotte.

Freed from the burden of tending to Eric or enduring the servants' quiet insults, she found herself strangely at peace, even as her body continued to weaken. Sleep consumed her more and more, and there were moments when she coughed up blood, staining the quiet hours.

But none of it seemed to matter—she was going to see Meghan soon.

Dr. Jim, when not occupied, would often visit and tell her stories. In turn, she shared snippets of her past at the orphanage—fragmented memories that carried a bittersweet weight. Their conversations, unburdened by judgment, were light yet meaningful, each exchange a fleeting reprieve from the heaviness of her thoughts.

Meanwhile, Emily made her presence felt in the most insidious way. She sent photo after photo to Charlotte—photos that were far from innocent. Intimate pictures of stolen kisses, warm embraces, the disarray of hotel beds, and scattered clothes. Each image carried an unspoken taunt.

"Did you know? Eric loves this child," Emily texted alongside a picture of her cradling her stomach. "He's going to divorce you soon. When that happens, Charlotte, what will you do?"

The Eric in those photos seemed like a stranger—gentle, doting, a version of him she had never encountered. With a steady hand, Charlotte blocked Emily's number. She stared at her phone for a moment longer, her thoughts drifting to how she might finally make Eric sign the divorce papers.

Five days before her mission ended, she was discharged from the hospital. Before leaving, she handed Dr. Jim the address of the crematorium she had contacted. With a quiet smile, she formed a simple sign of gratitude in sign language.

When she returned to the Lorvis household, she was met with a flurry of activity. Servants bustled about, arranging decorations and preparing the grand hall. Only then did she realize—it was Eric's birthday.

From the living room, she could hear murmurs and low voices. She stepped in and immediately caught Eric's gaze. He froze for a moment, his eyes narrowing.

"What happened to your nose and chin? Did you get hurt?"

Charlotte shook her head and signed, "I had the implants removed. Soon, I'll return to my original appearance."

His hand curled into a fist at his side, his expression tight with something unreadable. "Why now? You went to such lengths to make yourself look like Emily back then, even borrowing money for it."

Her lips curled in a faint, mocking smile as she signed, "I made myself ugly once. What's wrong with wanting to be beautiful again?"

The air between them grew heavy. Eric's face darkened, while Emily, standing nearby, stiffened. Charlotte's calmness unnerved her—why would a mere substitute want her own face back?

"Today's my birthday," Eric said after a pause. "Dress appropriately and show up tonight."

Charlotte rolled her eyes but nodded. The divorce agreement in her room reminded her that compliance was the quickest way forward.

By nightfall, the Lorvis family estate brimmed with life. The elite of society filled the hall, their laughter and chatter mingling with the sound of clinking glasses. Brian arrived with Emily, drawing immediate attention.

"Look! It's the Spencer siblings! And Emily, Eric's favorite. I heard she moved into the Lorvis estate after her divorce. He can't bear to be apart from her, can he?"

"Exactly. As for the current Mrs. Lorvis… What a joke. Isn't she mute? And a lapdog, no less. She's probably off crying in a corner."

Another chimed in with a sneer, "A bastard daughter trying to live the high life. The audacity."

A group of young men close to Eric laughed openly. "Eric's love for Emily is no secret. Didn't they just visit the hospital together recently? Maybe the wedding bells are near."

Amidst the chatter, Charlotte stood by a small table, quietly eating a slice of cake.

Brian, noticing her solitary figure, smirked and sauntered over with a group of friends in tow.

"Back from surgery, are we? Trying to win him over with a new face? Even if you were a goddess, Eric wouldn't want you." His tone was biting. "I've been telling you to divorce him, but you refused. Now look at the spectacle you've made of yourself."

Before she could react, he reached out and ripped off the bandages covering her face. He froze. The room seemed to still as her unaltered features came into view—a striking beauty that had once turned heads, untainted by surgical tweaks.

"You— You've gone back to your original face, Charlotte?"

Someone else muttered in awe, "She was gorgeous before. The surgery ruined her proportions. Since Eric isn't interested in her anyway, perhaps we could have a go at her."

The words grew bolder, more suggestive, as the group leered at her.

Before she could slip away, one of them shoved her toward the grand, towering birthday cake. She stumbled, falling against it with enough force to topple the ornate confection.

The room erupted into chaos.

Amid the gasps and whispers, she began coughing violently, her frail body wracked with spasms. Blood flecked her lips, staining the ruined cake in vivid crimson—a macabre bloom in the sea of white frosting.