Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace

In the emergency room, the air was thick with tension and antiseptic.

My hands were clasped together tightly as I silently prayed for Grandma Quella. Though she wasn’t my actual grandmother, I couldn’t ignore the fact that she had raised Foebe Larson, the girl whose identity I had inadvertently assumed.

The doctor emerged midway through the ordeal, a solemn look on his face as he prepared us for the worst and asked me to sign some documents. My heart raced, fear gnawing at me from

the inside.

“There’s no immediate danger to her life now,” the doctor finally said after what felt like an eternity. “We’ve moved her to a regular room for observation. Given her age and the 99% blockage in her cerebral artery, surgery isn’t advisable. Just make sure she gets plenty of care. It was a sudden heart attack this time. She’s lucky to have pulled through.”

I nodded, my thanks a mere whisper, and took my vigil beside the hospital bed.

“Your grandmother is going to be okay.” Dexter murmured, trying to soothe me.

I was in no mood for his presence. “Dexter, how is this any of your business? She’s my grandmother, not yours. You can leave now.”

“Phoebe—” He persisted stubbornly, his voice hoarse with emotion, as if he was desperate to explain. “I never stopped loving you

I frowned, his words stirring a wave of nausea. “Get out.”

“I read your journal. You think I don’t love you, that I despise you, that I don’t trust you.” With his gaze lowered, Dexter continued speaking, seemingly more to himself than to me. He was convinced I was Phoebe Caldwell, and he was hell–bent on making amends.

Pathetic.

“I do love you, Phoebe, more than anyone else. I just… couldn’t believe that you could love me back.” Dexter’s voice broke as he reached for my wrist. “You were so against the arranged marriage, so unwilling to marry me. It was you who had a teenage crush on someone else, you who never had a place for me in your eyes. I couldn’t trust it, couldn’t accept that you might love me. I thought…”

“That Phoebe Caldwell had an ulterior motive?” I scoffed, pulling my hand away. “Dexter, you’re full of yourself. If Phoebe Caldwell ever loved you, that would be the saddest thing of all From NôvelDrama.Org.

Dexter hung his head, weighed down by a guilt that seemed to drain his strength. “I just

He wanted to explain, but his explanations were weak and futile.

“Foebe… Coraline.” Grandma Quella mumbled in her delirium, calling out the names of Foebe Larson and Coraline Larson.

There had been a mix–up, a chance that Coraline’s biological parents had intentionally switched her and Coraline. But Coraline’s real parents had died when Foebe was still a teenager, and the Larson family chose not to pursue the matter further. Instead, they doted on Coraline, the girl they had raised, while treating Foebe like a wild country girl, fearing she might tarnish the Larson family name.

In the end. Coraline was Grandma Quella’s blood granddaughter, so it made sense for Grandmal Quella to be concerned about her. Yet, no matter how much she longed for her, Coraline would

never come to see her.

“Phoebe, when you came to live with us at eighteen, you were badly hurt. You spent seven days in a coma at the hospital. When you woke up, it was like you had forgotten so much. You asked me if I had saved you. I was selfish then, I let you believe I did. I admit fault for that.” Dexter whispered, recounting the past.

“My mother said your mental health was unstable, but the amnesia made you forget your own psychological issues – a blessing in disguise. But I always felt… you were pretending. Pretending to forget the tragedy of your parents‘ death and everything that happened to the Fitzgerald family.”

I was getting tired of his ramblings, but when he mentioned a sickness; I stiffened and turned to face him. “What do you mean? Phoebe Caldwell had a mental illness?”

“You’ve forgotten…” He looked up at me, his eyes searching. “As a child, you were locked in a pitch– black basement at the orphanage for a very long time. When your parents found you, you were semi– conscious. For years after, you received psychological counseling as a result