Chapter 4
When Emily woke up again, she found herself in a hospital bed.
The nurse told her she'd suffered a stomach ulcer from drinking too much and had just had her stomach pumped. She'd need IV fluids for the next few days.
Her body ached all over, and she could barely sit up. That was when Matthew walked into the room.
He was holding a cup of water. He helped her sit up, placed the cup in her hand, and asked softly, "Does it still hurt?"
There was such gentleness in his tone that Emily looked at him, dazed, almost believing for a second that he still cared.
Matthew smiled at her, "I've rearranged everything at work. I'll be staying here with you these next few days."
The nurse nearby sighed with admiration, "Mr. Grant really dotes on Mrs. Grant. People online weren't lying when they said he's crazy about his wife."
Emily gave a small, bitter laugh.
She used to believe that too—that he truly loved her, cherished her.
But in reality, he only adored her because she was the perfect stand-in.
She wasn't even legally Mrs. Grant. Their marriage certificate had been voided long ago. The marriage itself was nothing but a lie.
As Emily was drowning in that thought, Claire walked into the room with a stack of company documents for Matthew to sign.
She wore a form-fitting dress that accentuated every curve, the neckline cut scandalously low. When she leaned closer, her chest brushed against Matthew's arm, and Emily could see the flush rising to his cheeks.
If Emily hadn't been there, Matthew would've kissed her right then and there.
Once the papers were signed, Claire took them and gave Matthew a sultry look. "Mr. Grant, I'll head back to the office," she said softly, her voice dripping with sweetness. Before leaving, she cast him one last lingering glance.
Matthew's eyes followed her helplessly. Then he turned to Emily and said hurriedly, "I'll just go downstairs to grab a jacket from the car."
Emily clenched her jaw. Pushing through the pain, she got out of bed. "I'll come with you."
Disappointment flickered in his eyes, but he didn't argue. He led her toward the elevator, where Claire was waiting.
But just as Matthew was about to step inside, the doors slammed shut with a loud clang.
Claire cried out in panic, "It must've jammed!"
Emily froze, her chest tightening. She wanted to scream, but no sound came out. The air felt thin, suffocating. The walls were too close—she couldn't breathe. Her claustrophobia kicked in hard.
Claire banged on the metal doors, sobbing. "Matthew! Help me, please! I'm scared!"
Matthew's voice came from outside. "Don't worry, I've got people here already. We'll get you out soon."
But the staff looked troubled. "Mr. Grant, the doors are jammed tight. We can only open them once. Whoever comes out has to move fast, or the doors will snap shut again. We'll need a construction team to get the second person. You'll have to choose. Who do we pull out first?"
Emily's heart thudded painfully against her ribs.
She held her breath, waiting—terrified of hearing the answer.
Three seconds passed. It felt like three centuries.
Then Matthew said, without hesitation, "Save my secretary, Claire."
In that instant, Emily felt her entire world crumble.
She watched Claire being pulled out, watched Matthew rush to hold her, watched the elevator doors slide shut again—sealing Emily in darkness.
She closed her eyes. Hot tears streamed down her face.
Only then did she realize that heartbreak, when it cut deep enough, really could take your breath away.