Chapter 4

Chloe' s plan to ensnare Liam began to unfold exactly as I remembered. There was an exclusive pre-exhibition party for patrons and top students, hosted at a lavish downtown hotel. Chloe spent a week planning her outfit, her hair, her entire strategy. I watched her, a silent observer to a crime I was now complicit in, but for entirely different reasons.

The night of the party, I saw her slip a small vial out of her purse at the bar. She waited until the bartender was distracted, then tipped the contents into Liam' s cocktail. In my first life, this was the moment she stole his "life essence" for the locket. This time, it was just a simple sedative, designed to lower his inhibitions for the one-night stand she still needed as a backup plan.

I watched her lead a groggy Liam out of the party and towards the hotel elevators. My stomach turned, but I knew I couldn' t intervene. Her actions had to have consequences, her own consequences.

A few days later, it started.

I heard her retching in the bathroom one morning. When she came out, her face was pale and clammy.

"Morning sickness already?" I asked, my voice laced with fake innocence.

She shot me a sharp look. "Don' t be ridiculous. I think I got food poisoning from that sketchy sushi place last night."

But it happened again the next day, and the day after that. She started complaining of fatigue, of feeling bloated. She' d press a hand to her stomach, a confused and annoyed expression on her face.

"I don' t get it," she grumbled, flopped on her bed. "I feel awful. This stupid bug won' t go away."

"Maybe you should see a doctor," I suggested again, knowing what her answer would be.

"No," she snapped. "I don' t have time. Besides, it' s probably just stress. We need to focus on your health, remember?" She gestured towards me. "You' re the one who' s supposed to be feeling all these weird things from the locket."

I had to play my part perfectly. I started making a show of being tired. I' d rub my temples, complaining of headaches. I' d pick at my food, claiming I had no appetite. I bought cheap, greasy takeout and left the containers around to make it look like I had strange cravings. It was a delicate performance. I needed her to believe the curse was working on me, even as her own body was betraying her.

I' d catch her looking at me, a strange mix of satisfaction and impatience in her eyes. She thought my symptoms were a sign of her success, proof that the baby was growing inside me. She was so blinded by her own scheme that she couldn' t see the truth that was right in front of her, the truth that was making her sick every morning.

One afternoon, I pretended to have a dizzy spell in the studio, leaning against a worktable for support.

"See?" she said, rushing to my side. "The locket is powerful. It' s taking a lot of your energy. But it will all be worth it in the end, Ava. For both of us."

Her hand rested on my back, a gesture of false comfort. I could feel the heat of her own body, the frantic, unseen changes happening within her. She was a walking, talking time bomb, and she had no idea. She was so focused on my fake symptoms that she was explaining away her real ones.

And I just nodded, playing the part of the confused, weakened victim.

"I hope you' re right," I whispered.

The irony was so thick, it was almost suffocating.