Chapter 3
In the original story, Laura had only ever flown first class to maintain the image of someone who was "good enough for Charles Renner." She bought clothes only from luxury boutiques and still watched his mood while spending her own money.
Thinking about it now, what was the point?
The plane took off on time. Laura watched the city outside the window grow smaller and smaller until it became a gray-green patchwork, then vanished completely beneath the clouds.
She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.
Goodbye, Charles Renner.
Goodbye, Charlotte Sinclair.
Goodbye, that godforsaken misery novel.
In this life, Laura was going to live for herself.
By the time the plane landed in Harbor City, it was a little past noon. Tropical sunlight poured through the terminal's glass ceiling, bright enough to sting her eyes.
Laura took a deep breath of the warm, humid air and felt like she had finally come back to life.
She turned her phone back on, and messages and missed calls flooded in like a tidal wave.
Charles Renner had called her more than twenty times and sent over a dozen messages.
The latest one read: [Laura Evans, what the hell are you doing?]
Laura let her finger hover over the screen for two seconds, then swiped the notification away.
She opened her ride-hailing app and called a car to the short-term rental apartment she had picked out online earlier.
In the car, she called the bank to confirm that the large transfer had already gone through.
In the original story, most of Laura's inheritance had been locked in a trust fund. Before, she had even authorized Renner Corporation to withdraw directly from her account.
But yesterday she had revoked every third-party authorization. Starting today, Renner Corporation couldn't touch a single dollar of hers ever again.
The driver was an elderly man who loved to chat. He asked if she had come to Harbor City for work or vacation.
"To settle down," Laura said with a smile. "To start over."
The old man looked at her through the rearview mirror and gave her a thumbs-up. "That's youth for you. If you want to leave, you just leave."
The apartment Laura rented was near Dragon District. It was a tiny studio, fully furnished, and from the window she could see pedestrians moving up and down the street.
She unpacked in quiet certainty, like she was completing a ritual she had planned long ago.
Only after she finished everything did she sit down and carefully read through all the messages Charles had sent.
The earliest ones were still fairly restrained.
[Where are you] [Why aren't you answering] [The gala is important. Contact me as soon as possible.] The tone was cold and businesslike, exactly the way he always spoke to Laura.
By the afternoon, though, the messages had started to change.
[Laura Evans, are you throwing a tantrum?] [If you have a problem, say it. Don't act like this.] His impatience still screamed that she was the unreasonable one.
After that, there were a few voice messages.
Laura hesitated for a moment, then tapped one open anyway.
Charles Renner's voice came through the speaker, low and tight with suppressed anger. "Laura, Mr. Shaw said you got on a plane to Harbor City. What are you doing in Harbor City? Who told you to go?"
The second voice message sounded different, with less anger and more confusion. "Did you see something? Did Charlotte say something to you?"
The third came half an hour later, much quieter. "Laura, message me back."
After listening to all three, Laura set down her phone and leaned back into the couch.
Charlotte.
Charlotte Sinclair.
In the original story, Charlotte was Charles's childhood sweetheart: gentle, kind, beautiful, graceful. Everyone liked her.
But only Laura knew that every one of Charlotte's "accidents" was a carefully planned setup, and every act of "gracious" forgiveness was another knife aimed at her.
And Charles always stood on Charlotte's side, convinced Laura was jealous, petty, and immature.
Thinking back on it now, Laura's heart still turned cold.
A man who stays silent when you're falsely accused, stands by when you're being hurt, and turns away while you're trembling in the rain is not worth even a second glance.
She opened WhatsApp, changed Charles's contact name from "Charles" to his full name, and muted his messages.
Then she sent a message to the only real friend she had back home, Susan Lane. [Sue, I've arrived in Harbor City. Help me deal with my stuff back home. I've already listed the apartment, and you can decide whether to keep or sell the furniture. Handle the rest however you think best.]
Susan replied almost instantly. [??? You actually ran for it???]
Then came a second message. [Holy shit, Laura, you are officially the most badass person I've ever met.]
A third followed. [Don't worry. Leave everything back home to me. You just stay in Harbor City and take care of yourself. That man isn't worth it. Oh right, what about that box you left with me before? Want me to ship it over?]
Laura thought for a moment, then replied, [Send it. I'll text you the address.]
That box contained every photo, gift, and letter between Laura and Charles in the original story.
But the awakened Laura felt no attachment to any of it. She just didn't want to leave those things behind where someone might use them against her later.
After chatting with Susan, Laura went downstairs to a hawker center and ordered a bowl of spicy coconut seafood noodle soup.
The spicy coconut broth and sweet shrimp exploded across her tongue. It tasted better than any Michelin-starred meal Charles had ever taken her to.
After dinner, she returned to the apartment, and her phone buzzed again.
This time it was an unfamiliar number. Laura answered, and a woman's voice came through the line, soft in a perfectly measured way.
"Laurie, it's me. Charlotte."
Laura's grip on the phone paused for just a beat. Charlotte Sinclair.