Chapter 3 The Doll Who Bled

The early morning fog clung to Ember's torn dress like a second skin as she stepped through the villa gates. Her feet were bare, scraped from the gravel road. Her hair, once carefully brushed to mimic Reese's perfect waves, now hung in messy clumps. Dried blood at the corner of her lip, bruises blooming down her arms she looked like something pulled out of a grave.

The guards didn't question her. They knew better.

Inside, the lavish villa was warm and glowing laughter echoed from the grand living room. Reese sat curled up on the cream sofa, phone in one hand, sipping from a cup in the other. Charlotte lounged beside her in a silk robe, her long legs stretched over a velvet ottoman.

When they spotted Ember, the room erupted in laughter.

Reese nearly spilled her tea. "Oh my god,look at her! You'd think she crawled out of a sewer!"

Charlotte smirked. "No, darling. Sewers smell better."

Ember stood frozen in the doorway, lips pale, trembling hands clenched at her sides.

Reese rose, heels clicking sharply on marble. "What did I say, huh?" Her smile vanished, replaced by fury. SLAP. Ember's head snapped to the side, the sting hot and instant.

"I told you not to cry," Reese hissed. "You had one job.....one night. You were supposed to be me. Emotionless. Silent. Perfect."

Ember's breathing hitched, but she didn't speak.

Reese grabbed Ember's jaw, nails digging in as she yanked her face closer. "Tell me right now. Did you say something to him? Did he figure it out? Did Reagan find out that it wasn't me?"

A pause.

For a fleeting second, Reese's confident glare flickered with something... fear.

Ember noticed.

Her cracked lips parted slowly, voice barely above a whisper. "No. He didn't recognize me."

A lie. A necessary one.

Reese let out a sigh of dramatic relief and shoved her hard. Ember stumbled back and crashed onto the marble floor.

"Oh no," Reese whined, staring at her manicured fingers. "My new nail art ruined." She turned to Charlotte. "Mom, call the salon lady. Emergency."

Charlotte sighed, standing and brushing invisible dust off her robe. "Honestly, Ember, even rats clean themselves better. You're a disgrace."

Reese tossed a small bottle at Ember. It hit her shoulder and bounced to the floor. Pills scattered. "Take one. Sleep. And don't crawl out of your mouse hole again unless we say so. Understand?"

Ember nodded wordlessly and gathered the pills in her shaking hands.

"Good girl," Reese cooed mockingly. "Now disappear."

Her tiny room was colder than usual. The converted maid's quarters had no windows, no light except for a flickering ceiling bulb. Ember sat beneath the shower, fully clothed, letting icy water flow over her as her fingers wrapped around her knees. The bruises throbbed. But it wasn't the pain that made her chest ache.

It was how silent everything was. Inside her. Like something had died and left her empty.

She scrubbed her arms until they burned.

But Reagan's touch still lingered.

The way he grabbed her throat. The way he forced her to say his name.

A sob tried to escape her throat, but she bit it back. No more tears. Not tonight. Maybe never again.

Later that night, Ember dried her trembling hands and pulled out a small leather diary hidden beneath a loose floorboard. She opened a blank page.

She thinks I told him nothing.

She believes he didn't recognize me.

Let her believe it.

Let her laugh and humiliate me. Let her feel safe.

Because the truth is... he already knows that I'm not Reese. I don't know how. But he looked at me like I was some trophy to him.

That's my edge. My only weapon.

I'll let them believe their lies until I can use the truth to destroy them.

One. By. One.

She shut the diary and hid it again.

In the loose cupboard, Ember whispered to herself, "I may be their puppet... but even dolls can bleed."

Ember sat alone in the corner of the cold,her palms bruised from the fall, her lip still trembling from the sting of Reese's slap. The silence around her felt heavier than any scream. Charlotte's laugh still echoed in her ears sharp, cruel, echoing with the confidence of someone who thought they had won. She wanted to scream, to fight back, but instead she reached under the pillow where she had hidden the small, battered notebook she'd found in the dust-filled attic.

She opened the diary, and with shaking hands, began to write.

"Let her believe I'm broken. Let her think he didn't notice. It's better this way for now. I'll play the role she wants, just until I find my way out. But I swear, one day, she'll pay for every slap, every lie. And Reagan... he will know the truth, not from my lips, but through the chaos I create in his life."

As the ink dried, Ember wiped her tears and slowly got to her feet. Her knees trembled slightly, but she caught herself against the wall. The pain was nothing new.she had lived through worse. What she couldn't endure anymore was the feeling of being invisible in her own life.

She stepped out quietly, barefoot, her movements cautious. The hallway was dim, only a sliver of moonlight slipping through the high windows. From the drawing room downstairs, muffled voices drifted upward. Charlotte's sharp tone cut through the quiet.

"She's getting reckless," Charlotte muttered. "If she slips, it's not just our plan that falls apart. It's everything."

"She won't," Reese replied, her voice smug. "She's scared of her own shadow. I made sure of that tonight."

A pause.

"And Reagan?" Charlotte asked. "He hasn't called?"

"No," Reese said flatly. "But if he does... I'll go myself this time. That girl's face is still swollen from the first meeting. No one will question a sudden switch."

Ember's fingers dug into the wall. So this was their plan? To discard her like a mask after the performance was over?

She didn't make a sound as she returned to her room, but her heartbeat was thunderous. The fear was still there, coiled deep in her chest.