My Mother Faked Her Death To Protect My Husband’s Mistress Chapter 05
The Birthday Party
At eight that night, Elliot leaves with a suitcase.
He kisses my forehead at the door.
“Wait for me at home.”
The second the door closes, I pick up the car keys.
I do not drive my own car.
I take the old compact car the housekeeper usually uses for groceries and follow Elliot’s Maybach from a distance.
His car does not get on the highway.
Instead, it crosses half the city and turns into a gated estate on the west side.
I park by the road and watch him swipe a card at the gate like he has done it a hundred times before.
Ten minutes later, I stand outside the wall of the villa.
Security here is not as strict as I expect.
Through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, I can see everything inside.
The dining room glows with warm yellow light.
Elliot has taken off his coat. He is wearing a light gray sweater and placing candles on a two-tier cake.
Claire sits at the table in a birthday hat.
Her chin rests in her hands as she looks at him like he is the whole world.
Then the kitchen door opens.
Mom walks out with a bowl of homemade noodles, the kind she used to make for my birthdays.
She smiles and sets it in front of Claire.
Then she reaches out and touches Claire’s hair with so much tenderness that my chest goes numb.
Elliot lights the candles.
He turns off the lights.
The three of them stand around the table and sing happy birthday.
Claire closes her eyes and makes a wish.
Mom and Elliot look at each other and smile.
They look warm and natural, like a real family.
At some point, snow begins to fall.
It lands on my coat, soft and silent.
I stand in the dark corner outside the window and watch them.
Then pain splits through my head.
Again.
And again.
The room behind the glass begins to twist.
Mom, who is smiling so gently at Claire, suddenly turns her head.
Her eyes lock on me through the night.
“Why are you still alive?”
Her voice explodes beside my ear.
“If you die, Claire can finally take your place.”
I cover my ears and stumble back.
“No,” I whisper. “No, I didn’t…”
I turn and run.
The snow grows heavier.
The wind cuts across my face.
I cannot tell where the road ends and where the hallucination begins.
A tree by the curb bends in the storm, and for one second, it becomes Claire’s face.
She smiles at me.
“June, your husband is mine now too.”
I scream.
Something in my head snaps.
I yank open the car door, get in, and hit the gas.
I just want to get away.
The car tears through the snowy night.
The traffic lights at the intersection stretch and twist in front of me like monsters.
Then there is a crash.
The sound is huge.
The car slams into the guardrail.
The airbag bursts open.
The impact throws everything into darkness.
All sound disappears.
Only silence remains.
I do not know how long I am gone.
When I hear voices again, someone is calling my name.
“June! June!”
I force my eyes open.
White light burns above me.
For a moment, I cannot see clearly.
Then Elliot’s face appears in front of me.
He looks terrified.
His eyes are bloodshot, and he is still wearing that light gray sweater.
“Doctor! She’s awake!”
He grabs my hand so tightly it hurts.
His voice shakes.
“June, you scared me to death.”
He leans closer.
“Why did you go to the west side by yourself?”
I look at the man crying beside my bed.
I look at his tight jaw.
His red eyes.
His desperate expression.
But there is nothing in my head.
Nothing.
It feels like someone has wiped a blackboard clean.
I slowly pull my hand out of his.
Then I shrink back toward the other side of the bed and stare at him.
My throat hurts when I speak.
“Who are you?”
Elliot freezes.
“June, don’t scare me.”
He reaches for my hand again.
I slap him away and scream.
The doctor stands by the bed with my brain scan in his hand, his expression grave.
“Mr. Pierce, there is no structural damage to Ms. Harper’s brain.”
Elliot turns to him, pale as paper.
“But she has suffered an extreme psychological shock. Her mind has triggered a defense mechanism.”
The doctor pauses.
“It’s dissociative amnesia caused by severe post-traumatic stress.”
Elliot stares at him.
“What do you mean, dissociative amnesia?”