Chapter 4

On the 23rd day of her hospital stay, Caroline was finally discharged.

When she left, she weighed 83 pounds, barely 4 pounds more than when she was admitted. The attending physician wrote a long note in her discharge summary, but the message was clear: she could collapse again at any moment, and her family needed to be with her round the clock.

Lisa read the discharge summary three times, her face growing paler each time. Finally, she carefully folded it up and tucked it into her bag, like she was hiding a secret.

The Carter family's car was parked outside. It was a black Mercedes van, roomy and comfortable. When Caroline got in, she practically melted into the soft seat, like the whole thing was swallowing her up.

She glanced out the window at the city speeding past and couldn't help remembering the beat-up bus she'd taken to get here—ten hours of bouncing around, stopping a million times, with vendors climbing aboard every stop to sell bottled water and food.

The car that picked her up had imported bottled water. Just one bottle could cover her food budget for a whole month back at the orphanage.

When the car pulled up outside Carter Villa, Caroline saw a bunch of people waiting at the door.

John, Alex, Sophie, some relatives she didn't even know, and the servants were all gathered like they were welcoming some big shot. Caroline couldn't help but find it funny, since she knew the only person who really cared was Lisa.

Lisa helped her out of the car, and as Caroline stepped onto the gravel path, she felt her legs were weak.

Sophie was the first to rush over, throwing her arms around Caroline and bawling her eyes out. "Caroline, you're finally back. I missed you so much. It's all my fault. If I'd stood my ground that day, you wouldn't have fallen. I'm so sorry..."

As Sophie hugged her, Caroline caught a whiff of gardenia perfume on her. She almost lost her balance, swaying unsteadily, but Lisa quickly reached out to steady her.

"Careful, Sophie, Caroline's still not fully recovered," Lisa said gently without a trace of blame.

Sophie let go and stepped back, brushing her tears away with the back of her hand. Her eyes and nose were both red, and she was crying so prettily, almost like she'd rehearsed it a thousand times.

Caroline looked at Sophie, and suddenly, she couldn't help but feel a bit of admiration.

Over the past eighteen years, Sophie had perfected every little gesture, every word, and every look. That was some next-level dedication. Honestly, if she ever went into acting, she'd probably be a superstar.

"Thank you," Caroline said, her voice gentle and polite as ever.

For a heartbeat, Sophie's tears stopped. Then she broke down even more dramatically.

Alex walked over, gave Caroline a once-over, and frowned. "How did you get even skinnier?"

"I wasn't used to the food at the hospital," Caroline answered.

Alex was silent for a moment, then turned to the butler. "Find a nutritionist to take care of Caroline's meals."

The butler nodded and left to carry out the order. Sophie stood off to the side, her expression unchanged, but her fingers tightened around the hem of her dress.

Caroline noticed Sophie's little movement. She never used to pay attention and never thought she had to. But things were different these days.

Lying in bed, she had all the time she needed to watch everyone: their faces, their gestures, the way they spoke, and even the tiniest flicker of emotion. Every observation got tucked away in her mind, locked up in a safe that only she could open.

Her first day at Carter Villa slipped by quietly, with nothing out of the ordinary.

That night, Lisa arranged for a nanny to look after her. Mary, in her fifties, looked honest and dependable. She helped Caroline bathe and change into clean pajamas, then brought over a cup of milk.

Caroline lay in bed, listening to the insects chirping outside. She thought she'd have trouble sleeping, but as soon as her head touched the pillow, she drifted off. Her body was so frail that she couldn't even muster the energy to be restless.

The next morning, a knock on the door woke her.

Mary opened the door, and Sophie was standing outside in a pink lace nightgown, holding a tray with breakfast. Her smile was sweet and gentle. "Carol, I brought breakfast for you."

Mary reached out to take the tray, but Sophie stepped aside. "I want to do it myself. I want to give it to Carol with my own hands."

Sophie carried the tray in, set it on the nightstand, and sat down by the bed. She reached out to touch Caroline's forehead. "Carol, how are you feeling? Is there anywhere that feels uncomfortable?"

Caroline watched Sophie's every move and expression, and suddenly a phrase came to mind: histrionic personality.

She'd first learned about it during her hospital stay, reading on her phone. She'd looked up all kinds of stories like impostor heiresses framing the real ones, the signs of histrionic personality disorder, and how to reveal the truth when no one trusted them.

She read slowly, since her body couldn't handle long periods of reading, but she was meticulous, memorizing every detail.

Sophie's behavior matched every trait of a histrionic personality: an excessive need for attention, exaggerated yet unstable emotions, relationships that seemed warm but were actually manipulative, a knack for playing with people's feelings, and a total lack of genuine empathy.

Caroline slapped a mental label on Sophie's behavior, then shoved the thought to the back of her mind and gave her a smile. "I'm fine, thanks."

Sophie gently ran her fingers through Caroline's hair, her voice almost sickeningly sweet. "Caroline, you're way too skinny. You need to eat more. How about I bring you breakfast every single morning, okay?"

"You really don't have to. Mary will take care of me," Caroline replied.

"I'd love to do that." Sophie waved her hands quickly, her eyes sparkling. "You're my sister. Of course I should take care of you."

Caroline looked at Sophie, and a deep weariness settled in her, not in her body, but in her mind. She knew Sophie was acting. Every smile, tear, and every word of concern was part of a carefully rehearsed script.

But Caroline couldn't expose Sophie. She didn't have any evidence, and she was too drained to argue.

So all she could do was go along with the act.

"Alright, thanks for your effort," Caroline said, her voice soft and warm.

Sophie beamed, looking genuinely happy. She stood up and said, "Then I won't disturb you," before turning and heading out.

As the door closed behind her, Caroline caught a glimpse of Sophie's steps. They suddenly became light and carefree, like she'd dropped a weight off her shoulders.

Mary walked over and set the breakfast in front of Caroline. She glanced down and saw porridge with a few simple sides. It looked totally ordinary, but she didn't touch it.

"Mary, can you check if there's anything weird in this porridge?" Caroline asked.

Mary froze for a second, clearly puzzled. But seeing how serious Caroline looked, she picked up the bowl, inspected it carefully, and sniffed it. Finally, she shook her head. "No, it's regular porridge."

Caroline let out a sigh of relief. She knew Sophie wouldn't make a move this soon. After all, she'd just come home. If anything happened now, even an idiot would know who did it.

Still, she had Mary check it out. It was not because she was paranoid, but because she'd promised herself she'd never let anyone get the chance to hurt her again.

She finished the porridge but ended up vomiting it all out.

It wasn't that there was anything wrong with the porridge. Her stomach couldn't handle any food. Mary scrambled to clean up the mess while Caroline leaned against the headboard, with traces of porridge still on her lips, and let out a wry laugh.

She was laughing at herself. She found it ridiculous that she couldn't even digest porridge, yet she was still thinking about fighting others.

But she couldn't help it. Just being alive felt absurdly funny to her.