JULIET
“Can you stand?” Blake asks.
"Yeah, I think so," I mumble.
His hands are gentle but urgent, as they run quickly over my arms and body, searching for injuries. His touch grounds me, sensual even in the chaos, stirring that deep craving for him despite everything.
Blake pulls back, his gray eyes calm, but his face looks pale under the lamp's sickly glow.
"We need to call the police," he says, as he reaches for his phone in his pocket.
But before he can dial, a knock sounds on the door, sharp and unexpected. It makes us both freeze. Tension coils tight in my stomach as the rap sounds again, cutting through the heavy silence like a warning.
Blake picks up the gun and stands, his body tense. He glances at me with a protective look, before, gun in hand, he goes to open the door. The wood groans on its hinges, and the night air rushes in cool and fresh, carrying that earthy scent from the fields.
A tall, broad giant of a man in a dark coat steps in. He is bald and so completely expressionless that his face looks like a mask. He glances around the room. The light catches his shaved head as his eyes fall on Carolyn’s dead body. He remains completely emotionless at the gruesome sight.
“Who are you?” Blake asks briskly, and I can see that even though his arm is lowered, he is ready to shoot.
“I’m the clean-up guy," he replies, matter-of-factly, no pause, like this is routine. He jerks his head in my direction. “She hired me to get rid of the body."
He doesn't know the difference, or maybe he does, but either way, he clearly doesn't care. His gaze flicks again to the corpse, and I feel a chill run down my spine.
For a moment, both Blake and I are too shocked to do anything, but then Blake speaks.
“No need. We can handle the —"
But I cut him off quick, my finger pressing across his lips, soft and urgent. I shake my head slowly, begging with my eyes, wide and pleading. Whispering, “Don’t,” the word hangs between us.
The man looks at me. “Well? Up to you, but I don’t return money paid to me.”
“Go ahead. Do it,” I croak.
Without hesitating or asking any further questions, he pulls out a large black bag from under his coat and unfolds it with a rustle, the plastic crinkling loudly in the quiet. We watch him stand over Carolyn’s body and make his calculations.
In his voluminous bag, he has all kinds of chemicals, which he proceeds to use to wipe off every trace of her blood. He works fast, no words, then he rolls her corpse into the bag with a thud. The zipper rasps brashly as he seals it and slings it easily over his shoulder like it's nothing.
My mind goes blank. This is it. Blake and I are now part of a murder cover-up.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
BLAKE
The door clicks shut behind the clean-up guy, the sound sharp in the quiet. The spot is empty now where only a moment ago Carolyn laid. There is no trace of her left. It is as if she never existed. It’s like a bad dream erased, but the stain stays in my soul, dark and slow, like a reminder that won't fade. I turn to Juliet and hold her close— her real name sinking in. Her body trembles against mine.
Shock still hums in my veins as I pull back enough to look at her. Her eyes are red-rimmed, beautiful and broken. I ask quietly, though my voice is rough with confusion and concern.
"Why did you do that? Why did you stop me from not allowing him to take her?" I pause, my thumb brushing her cheek, wiping a tear. "We should have called the police. This way, you'll always be living a lie, always looking over your shoulder—we both will."
She meets my eyes, her hand on my chest, fingers pressing lightly. True worry shows in the way she bites her lip as she explains.
“In cases like this, the police always suspect the husband," she says, her voice soft but firm. "There'd be a stain forever on your record. There’d be endless investigations, doubts. Everybody will believe we plotted together to kill her. It will be our word against the conspiracy theorists on the internet, and it’s always easier to take the side of the person who is no longer present.”
I nod slowly, but my worry lingers. “And you don’t mind stepping into a dead woman’s name, never living as Juliet again?”
She shakes her head and continues. "I'm an orphan, Blake—and I have been since I was a baby.” Her fingers tighten on my shirt, the confession hanging heavy as her body leans into mine, warm and needy. “I never knew my father, and I was told my mother died of a drug overdose when I was about two years old."
She hesitates and swallows hard. “So you see, I won’t be giving up anything worth keeping. I've never really known what it is to have a family, and my greatest dream was always to have the kind of family that… Carolyn had." Another pause, and I see the vulnerability and sadness in her eyes. "I know it's not really mine, but I do care deeply about your family. If possible, I really want to continue to live as Carolyn with your family."
