Chapter 4: Goodbye, Sophia

Sophia came back the next day. I stuffed everything I owned into my battered JanSport backpack—hardly anything, really. The apartment was filled with Sophia’s things, not mine: Cartier, Tiffany, Chanel. All hers.

On the street, Sophia leaned against her red sports car, sunglasses hiding her tired eyes. She’d lost weight—her cheekbones looked sharp enough to cut glass.

"Emma, just help me a little longer. I’ll pay you more," she pleaded, voice low.

"No, I’ve done enough. A year is more than enough," I said, trying to sound braver than I felt. My hands trembled anyway.

She eyed the red marks on my neck, raising an eyebrow. "Wait, you actually hooked up with him? Emma, come on, just cover for me a little longer. I’ll make it worth your while. You and Lucas seem to get along, don’t you like him?"

Something in me twisted. She’d hit too close to the truth. I shook my head, fast.

"No way. He’s blind, I’m always the one taking care of everything. It’s boring, not romantic. My back is killing me. Just pay me and let me go. I want my life back."

Pretending can only get you so far. Eventually, the truth always shows.

Lucas was only good to me because he thought I was Sophia—the golden girl, the one who belonged in his world. They were perfect for each other. The kind of couple you read about in the Times.

I was just an ordinary girl. Five-foot-four, brown hair, brown eyes. If Lucas hadn’t lost his sight, he never would’ve noticed me. Not in a million years.

And his blindness might not be forever. The doctors said there was a new procedure at Johns Hopkins—a real chance he’d see again. I couldn’t let him wake up to a stranger beside him.

If he found out the truth, I’d be lucky if all he did was throw me to the fish.

Sophia sighed and transferred the money—eight million, just like we agreed. The notification flashed on my phone. That much money looked fake.

"Thanks, Boss Sophia. If you ever need a stand-in again, call me," I joked, trying to sound light.

I left, my mood suddenly a hundred pounds lighter. In the car, Sophia tapped her phone, her manicured nails clicking against the steering wheel.

She was on a call. "Did you hear all that? What do we do? She only cares about the money."

Whoever was on the other end didn’t answer. The line went dead.