My Sister's Grave Mistake

The last thing I saw was my sister Chloe' s cold, satisfied smile as the wrench came down, followed by an explosion of pain and darkness.

She whispered, "She knew too much.

She was always in the way."

Then, nothing.

I was dead, brutally murdered by my own sister because I stumbled upon her insane scheme to impersonate a missing socialite for money.

But then, I gasped, sitting bolt upright in my narrow bed.

Sunlight filtered through my grimy window.

I was alive.

It was June 14th, the day it all began, the day that, in another life, ended with my murder.

My heart hammered, my head throbbed.

I' d seen the blood, the callousness of my sister, and the boundless greed of my parents previously.

Last time, I had tried to reason with her, and it got me killed.

This time, things would be different.

A chilling calm settled deep inside me.

Chloe wanted to play a dangerous game?

Fine.

I wouldn' t stop her.

I would watch her step right into the fire she was so eager to light.

When her knock came, saccharine sweet, I took a steadying breath.

"Coming," I called out.

"Okay, Chloe," I said, a faint, cold smile touching my lips as I opened the door.

She had no idea.

The last thing I saw was Chloe' s face.

My sister.

She smiled, a cold, satisfied smile, as the heavy wrench came down.

Pain exploded in my head, then darkness.

I remembered the blood, so much blood, soaking into the cheap carpet of my apartment.

Chloe' s voice, distant, "She knew too much. She was always in the way."

Then, nothing.

A gasp tore from my throat.

I sat bolt upright in my narrow bed, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

Sunlight, pale and weak, filtered through the grimy window of my small paramedic' s apartment.

My head. I touched it. No pain. No blood.

I looked at my hands. Clean.

The calendar on the wall: June 14th.

The day it all started. The day Chloe came to me with her insane plan.

The day that, in another life, led to my murder.

I was alive.

I had a second chance.

A coldness settled deep inside me, a chilling calm.

This time, things would be different.

Chloe wanted to play a dangerous game. Fine. I' d let her.

I wouldn' t stop her. I wouldn' t warn her.

I would watch her walk right into the fire she was so eager to light.

A knock on the door.

My breath caught. It was her.

"Maya? You in there? Open up, it' s important."

Chloe' s voice, sugary sweet, a voice I now knew could hide pure poison.

I took a steadying breath.

"Coming," I called out, my own voice surprisingly even.

I opened the door.

Chloe stood there, looking flawless as usual, even in the dingy hallway. Her blonde hair, carefully styled, her makeup perfect. She was everything I wasn' t – glamorous, polished, and utterly self-absorbed.

"Maya, thank God you' re here. Something incredible has happened."

Her eyes were wide, feigning a mixture of shock and excitement.

"What is it, Chloe?" I asked, keeping my face neutral.

"You' re not going to believe this. I found Isabelle Moreau."

Isabelle Moreau. Marcus Thorne' s girlfriend. The woman Chloe was obsessed with, or rather, obsessed with replacing.

"You found her? Where?"

"Wandering near South Pointe Park, totally out of it. Amnesia, I think. She doesn' t know who she is."

Chloe' s story was practiced, smooth.

"She looks terrible, Maya. And she needs help. Medical help. That' s why I came to you."

She paused, letting her words sink in.

"I need you to check her out, you know, make sure she' s okay. And maybe... maybe you could help me make her look a little more presentable. Just some makeup, fix her hair. She' s a mess."

The real request. Get me involved. Get my medical skills as a shield, and my ability to subtly alter appearances.

In my past life, I had refused, horrified. I had tried to talk sense into her.

It got me killed.

This time, I looked at Chloe, at her eager, manipulative face.

A faint, cold smile touched my lips, gone so quickly she didn't see it.

"Okay, Chloe," I said. "I' ll help you."

Her face lit up. "Oh, Maya, thank you! I knew I could count on you!"

She had no idea.

Chloe led me to a rundown motel on the outskirts of the city, a place where questions weren't asked.

"She' s in here," Chloe whispered, unlocking a door.

The room stank of stale cigarettes and desperation.

On the bed, a woman lay unconscious. Isabelle Moreau. Or what was left of her. Her beautiful face was pale, her breathing shallow. Drugged. Heavily.

"She' s been like this since I found her," Chloe said, a little too quickly. "Just sleeping."

Liar.

"Marcus Thorne," Chloe breathed, her eyes shining with a feverish light. "He' s offering a huge reward for her return. Millions, Maya. Enough for us to finally get out of that dump Mom and Dad call home. Enough for me to have everything I' ve ever wanted."

Her ambition was a raw, ugly thing.

"He' s a dangerous man, Chloe," I said, my voice flat. "People say he' s ruthless. What if he finds out?"

Chloe waved a dismissive hand. "He won' t. He' ll be so grateful to get Isabelle back. He adores her."

She actually believed that. She hadn' t seen the coldness in Thorne' s eyes, the kind of coldness that could freeze hell over. I had, in news clippings, in whispered stories from the ER about men who crossed him.

"She' s not just drugged, is she?" I asked, looking at Isabelle. There was a faint bruise on her temple, cleverly hidden by her hair.

Chloe' s smile didn' t waver. "She was struggling. I had to... calm her down. Don' t worry, she' ll be fine. Once she' s back with Thorne, she' ll have the best doctors."

The implication was clear. Isabelle Moreau was an obstacle, now neutralized.

My stomach turned, but my face remained impassive. Chloe was more depraved than I ever imagined.

"So, what exactly do you want me to do?" I asked.

"First, check her vitals. Make sure she' s stable. Then, the fun part." Chloe pulled out a bag filled with expensive makeup, hair dye, and styling tools. Stolen, no doubt.

"I' ve had a few... minor things done already," Chloe said, touching her cheek. "Nose tweaked, a little filler. But with the right makeup and hair, I can be her twin. You' re good at this stuff, Maya. You always were."

It was true. Growing up, I was the one who did everyone' s makeup for school dances, proms. A skill I never thought would be used like this.

"I need to look exactly like her," Chloe demanded, her voice hardening. "Her mannerisms, her accent... I' ve been studying her for months."

She wanted me to help her erase Isabelle Moreau and step into her life.

And I would.

I would make her the perfect copy. So perfect that when the real Isabelle' s fate was discovered, Chloe would have no escape.

"Alright," I said, picking up a makeup brush. "Let' s get to work."

Later, back at our parents' cramped house, Chloe paraded her new look.

The resemblance to Isabelle Moreau was uncanny. The subtle changes from the surgeon, combined with my careful application of makeup and the newly dyed hair, had transformed her.

"Well?" Chloe asked, striking a pose she' d obviously copied from a magazine photo of Isabelle.

Our mother, Maria, gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "Chloe! My darling! You look... just like her! It' s a miracle!"

Our father, Hector, a man whose only god was money, was already counting his chickens. "Millions, Maria! We' re going to be rich! Thorne will pay anything to get his precious Isabelle back."

They didn' t ask how Chloe had "found" Isabelle. They didn' t care that a woman was lying drugged in a motel room. All they saw were dollar signs.

"Maya, you did a wonderful job," Maria said, a rare compliment. "See, Hector? I told you she had some use, even with that dead-end paramedic job."

I said nothing. Their greed was a familiar sickness.

They fawned over Chloe, praising her brilliance, her daring.

"This is our ticket out, Chloe-girl," Hector said, patting her shoulder. "You' ll marry Thorne, and we' ll all live like kings."

Delusional. All of them.