Chapter 2
The sharp smell of disinfectant filled the hospital hallway.
William was trembling all the way.
I couldn't tell if it was from the cold or from the dread of facing death.
Edward kept holding my hand, his palm warm and comforting.
We stopped at the door of the private ward.
William stopped and turned to look at me, his eyes full of pleading.
He begged, "Lottie, when we go in, please try not to say anything that'll upset Mom.
"She's really fragile right now. She can't take even the slightest stress."
I let out a laugh, unable to hold it back.
In the silent corridor, my laugh cut through the air with a sharp edge.
"William, did you get something wrong?" I said.
I casually adjusted my sleeves, barely sparing him a glance.
I sneered, "It was you standing in the snow, begging me to show up.
"It wasn't me crying and begging to be the dutiful daughter.
"If you want me to play the good daughter, that's extra, and you can't afford it anyway."
William's face went pale, his lips quivering, but he couldn't get a word out in his own defense.
He pushed the door open.
The room was warm, almost stifling.
The machines' beeping wove together like a countdown to death.s
On the bed, Helen was struggling for every breath.
When she heard the door open, she managed to turn her head.
The moment she saw me, tears started streaming down her face from those cloudy eyes.
"Lottie," she whispered.
She stretched out her thin, trembling hand, reaching for something that wasn't there.
She sobbed. "Lottie, my daughter..."
If someone who didn't know the truth saw this, they'd probably be brought to tears.
Too bad, I was Charlotte.
I was the daughter Helen once called a "jinx," the one she locked in the basement for three days and nights to make her adopted daughter happy.
I stood at the foot of the bed, not moving an inch.
It felt like I was watching a dying stranger.
"Alright, I've seen her," I said.
I turned to William, my tone cold as ice. "Anything else? If not, I'm heading home. I need to make pancakes."
Before William could speak, someone suddenly stood up from the sofa in the corner of the room.
It had been so dark over there that I hadn't even realized she was there.
It was Emily Carter, quietly peeling an apple in the shadows.
She was the impostor who took my place and ruined the first half of my life.
She wore a simple white dress, her eyes swollen and red, as if she'd just finished crying.
"Charlotte," she said, her voice so soft that it sounded like she might cry any second.
She said, "How can you talk to Mom like this?
"Mom's so sick right now. Can't you let go of all those old grudges?
"It was all my fault. I upset you. If you want to blame someone, blame me. Don't take it out on Mom."
As she spoke, Emily was about to bow before me.
Even five years ago, she had this act down to perfection.
Every time she apologized and cried, the whole family would immediately side with her and blame me for everything.
Everyone would see me as the bully.
As expected, William, who was full of guilt toward me moments ago, immediately moved to help Emily without thinking.
"Emily, you're not well. Don't push yourself," he said.
He couldn't fake that flash of worry and concern.
I watched this whole farce, but I only found it hilarious.
So that was what William meant by "Emily's not here," huh?
And this was what they called " wants to see me one last time"?
Edward suddenly stepped forward, standing protectively in front of me.
He didn't even spare Emily a glance.
He shot William a cold look and said, "Looks like you've got your perfect daughter here.
"My wife doesn't need to be here.
"Lottie, let's get out of here."
Edward pulled me close, about to turn and walk out.
"Stop right there!" A furious shout rang out from the inner room.
It was Richard Grant, the head of the Grant family, my biological father.
He strode out, his presence filling the room.
He still looked every bit the family head, with that commanding presence that never faded.
But when he looked at me, his gaze was as cold and dismissive as ever, as if I were nothing but a nuisance.
"Since you're here, don't even think about leaving until you've done what you came for," Richard snapped.
He pointed at me, his tone sharp and bossy, as if I were another employee he could order around.
Richard snapped, "Your mother's been hanging on by a thread, waiting for you.
"Since you've got a shred of decency left to show up, go sign the papers right now."
Sign the papers?
I frowned.
I wondered what I needed to sign.
Was it a cremation consent form? Or maybe a do-not-resuscitate order?
William suddenly started avoiding my gaze, refusing to look at me.
Emily dropped her head, and I caught a weird, sneaky smile creeping onto her face.
A chill ran down my spine.
"Sign what?" I asked.
Richard let out a cold snort and yanked a document from the nightstand drawer.
He slapped it down in front of me with a loud smack.
"Organ donation consent form," he said.