Choosing The Imposter Over His Dying Wife

Ericka POV

I didn't die.

That was my first disappointment.

I woke up coughing up water that tasted like the stagnant lake and engine oil. The hospital ceiling was the same cracked beige tile I had stared at days ago, a familiar landscape of misery.

Dr. Evans was there. He looked tired. Worse, he looked guilty.

He didn't meet my eyes. He looked steadfastly at the clipboard.

"Your lungs are failing, Ericka," he said, his tone clinical to mask the pity. "The water from the lake introduced an infection your immune system can't fight. The cancer has spread to the lining of your chest wall."

"How long?" I asked. My voice was shards of glass in my throat.

"Weeks," he said. "Maybe less if the stress continues."

"Good," I said.

He left without another word. He didn't offer sympathy. Sympathy is a weakness that gets you killed in my family.

The door opened. I expected Caleb. I expected him to come and finish what the lake started.

It was Hailie.

She looked pristine, untouched by the chaos. Her arm was cradled in a sling that matched her silk blouse. A fake injury for a fake victim.

She sat on the edge of my bed, claiming my space. She picked up an apple from the untouched tray and bit into it. The crunch was loud, violent in the silent room.

"You are like a cockroach," she said, chewing slowly. "You just won't die."

I looked at the ceiling. I was too tired to look at her.

"Why?" I asked. "Why me? I gave you everything. I welcomed you when you were nothing."

She laughed. It was a hollow, ugly sound.

"Because you were the Princess," she said. "You had the bloodline. You had the respect. You had Caleb. I wanted it. All of it."

She leaned in close. I could smell her perfume. It was mine. She had stolen my signature scent.

"I didn't just want his money, Ericka. I wanted to see the great Ericka Reid broken. I wanted to see Caleb look at you with hatred. It was so easy. A few fake tears. A few forged logs. He is a dog, and I hold the leash."

My right hand was still hidden under the sheet. My thumb rested on the screen of the burner phone I had bribed a nurse to buy with my last ring.

I pressed the red square.

*Stop recording.*

"You think he loves you?" I asked softly.

"He loves the idea of me," she said, her voice dripping with arrogance. "He loves that I am weak. He loves that I need him. You? You were always too strong. Too independent. Men like Caleb want a pet, not a partner. And now that you are dying, I will be the Queen."

She stood up, smoothing her skirt. She walked to the window.

She looked back at me. Her eyes were empty.

"Goodbye, Ericka."

She opened the window.

Then, she screamed.

It was a bloodcurdling sound, practiced and piercing. She ripped the sling off her arm. She threw herself against the wall, then scrambled onto the sill.

"Help!" she shrieked. "She's trying to push me! Caleb!"

The door burst open.

Caleb was there. His gun was drawn.

He saw Hailie teetering on the ledge. He saw me in the bed, my hand still under the sheet.

He didn't see a dying woman holding a phone. He saw a monster.

He holstered the gun. He crossed the room in two massive strides.

He grabbed Hailie and pulled her down. She collapsed into his arms, sobbing, pointing a shaking finger at me.

"She said she would take me with her!" she screamed, burying her face in his chest. "She said if she dies, I die!"

Caleb looked at me.

There was no conflict in his eyes this time. Only cold, hard resolution.

"Get up," he said.

"I can't," I whispered.

He grabbed my ankle. He didn't hesitate. He dragged me off the bed. My head hit the floor with a sickening thud.

"Take her to the roof," he told the guards.