Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace

Based on the clues at hand, it was clear that Foebe had intentionally imitated me, and her plan to ensnare Colin by doing so was undeniable.

But why had she expended so much effort only to choose to swallow pills on her wedding day?

Colin didn’t seem as surprised as I would’ve expected. Could it be that he had some inkling that Foebe was on a path to self–destruction?

“Foebe, I’m off to work now. Call me if you need anything.”

I nodded to the familiar face as she headed upstairs.

“Aren’t you shocked? Why would Foebe grab all those pills?” I whispered to Colin.

Colin looked down, his grip on my hand tightening. “Who would want to marry me?”

I was taken aback, almost missing the gravity of his question.

Before my resurrection, Colin had been nothing but a dirty, deranged vagabond. Indeed, no girl in her right mind would have wanted to marry him.

“But she…” What puzzled me was that Foebe had gone to such lengths to mimic me. Wasn’t her goal to get close to Colin?

After taking Colin back to his hospital room, I used the excuse of going out to get dinner to actually meet the acquaintance on the second floor.

She was at the nurse’s station and seemed surprised to see me. “Foebe, haven’t you gone home yet?”

“Um… actually, about those pills I took that day, I swallowed them,” I murmured.

The nurse turned pale as a ghost. “You… please don’t mention I assisted you in getting them. It was because of your grandma’s heart condition that the doctor prescribed them. Please don’t get me into trouble.”

I waved her off. “That’s not what I mean. I woke up that day, forgetting a lot of things. Do you know why I was so desperate?”

The nurse opened her mouth, then finally spoke in a hushed tone. “Foebe, have you lost your memory?”

I nodded.

“You mentioned your grandma pressuring you to do things you didn’t want to, and your biological parents urging you to marry someone you didn’t love. You said you felt threatened by everyone. But you didn’t tell me the specific details.”

I was stunned for a moment, then nodded again. “Thank you.”

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“Foebe, it’s nothing big, don’t take it to heart. Didn’t you say you liked to write in a journal when

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you had no friends to confide in? Write down your feelings, and let it all out. Take a moment to relax: this too shall pass,” she reassured me in a soft voice.

I managed a smile. “Sure.”

Leaving the hospital. I took a detour back to the Larsons.

Anthony Larson was lounging on the couch, glancing at the newspaper, responding indifferently. “What brings you back today? How’s everything with the Langley’s? Why didn’t you answer my calls recently? Coraline’s been sent off by the Langley Group to supervise some project, did you know?”

Poor Coraline, delicate as she was, now Eric had her running around construction sites, her skin peeling every three days.

Ignoring Anthony, I entered my room only to find Foebe’s belongings had been cleared out, replaced by Coraline’s wardrobe.

My brow furrowed in irritation as I stepped back out. “Where are my things?”

Anthony’s voice was nonchalant. “Oh, you’re married off now, so your sister’s taken over your room. Your stuff’s been moved to storage by your mom’s orders.”

I felt a tightness in my chest at the callous treatment of Foebe by these people. No wonder she

chose to end her life.

But what I needed to understand was who pressured her to impersonate me, what the deal was with those street kids, how she knew Dorian, and whether she had any connection to the murderer.

“Well, isn’t this my sister who married into money,” Coraline said as I approached the door.

She strutted in her high heels, visibly tanned, and spoke with arrogance. “You and that dimwit Caleb haven’t even made your mark in the company yet. Just mentioning that fool’s name gets me targeted! You’re such a failure.”

“Our dear Coraline has been run ragged these days,” Foebe’s mother chimed in, returning from a shopping spree with Coraline. The nanny carried loads of luxury goods, apparently to compensate Coraline.

A biological daughter without affection, a foster daughter doted upon so extravagantly–it was

indeed ironic.

Foebe’s mother passed by me as if I were invisible.

I took a deep breath, fearing my blood sugar might plummet from the stress. I unwrapped a stick of gum from my purse and started chewing to steady myself before heading to the storage.

Among a heap of discarded items, I found Foebe’s journal.

The entry read:

Overcast skies today. Grandma asked me to bring Uncle some pie. I was scared; Uncle would

make me undress when we were alone. I ran away and told Grandma, but she said I must never speak of it to anyone, lest a girl’s value be diminished.