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“I think so. But if it doesn’t, so what? What exactly do you have to lose?”
Nothing. The answer to her question is nothing.
I’m twenty-seven years old, and I’ve lost everything that’s ever meant anything to me. Even the last flimsy thread of my family.
I have absolutely nothing left to lose.
* * *
Several hours later, my heart is racing wildly as I step out of a chauffeured car in front of a fancy building in DC. My skin has broken out in a cold sweat, and I’m expecting at every moment for someone to loudly identify me as an impostor.
Fortunately, our trip to the salon ensured my hair and face is perfectly styled and made up, and the clothes Amber was wearing earlier basically fit me, although the waistband on the pants is a lot snugger than I’d ever wear by choice and I’m having to struggle not to wobble in these ridiculously high heels.
I like cute clothes as much as anyone, but I’ve never been as style conscious as Amber, and lately I’ve barely been leaving home and not wearing anything but baggy sweats.
This is part of the role I’ll be playing for the next four months at least, however. I’m going to have to get used to wearing Amber’s clothes.
Maybe she’ll have something slightly more comfortable in her closet.
I’m able to hold my expression composed and my mouth turned down in a reflection of Amber’s pout. I keep my sunglasses on, even when I step inside the building, since I feel safer behind them.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Delacourte,” the doorman says with a polite smile.
I nod in response and keep moving toward the security station guarding the private elevator that goes up to the penthouse apartment, which belongs to William Worthing.
“Hello, Ms. Delacourte,” the guard says. “How are you today?”
“Fine. Thank you. How about you?” I smile at him since he sounds so friendly. But, at his faintly surprised expression, I realize I’ve made a mistake. I absently pat my hair, which is pulled back in the smooth chignon like Amber wore, and step into the elevator.
“I’m good,” the guard replies, his surprised expression fading. “I like your new hair.”
I smile my thanks, relieved when the elevator doors slide shut, leaving me by myself.
While I was at the anonymous salon in the suburbs getting my hair, nails, and eyebrows done, Amber booked a last-minute appointment at her regular salon and asked for her hair to be highlighted blond. The result is close to my color, and now anyone who happens to check it out will see proof that Amber indeed got her hair done today.
At the coffee shop, we spent an hour going over the details of Amber’s life so I’ll be prepped for taking her place. She was clearly counting on me agreeing to the plan because she gave me a small notebook full of important information like her passwords, her normal schedule and routines, and details on the main people in her life. After the hair appointments, we met in the dressing room of a large department store where we swapped clothes and bags. Amber then called her car and driver to take me home and waited until the coast was clear and then took a taxi to wherever it is she’s going.
She didn’t tell me where that is. Knowing my sister, there’s probably another man involved.
I would have thought William Worthing would be right up her alley. I’ve seen pictures of him. He looks like he’s in his thirties—probably no more than ten years older than us. He’s good-looking like all the Worthings. Strong features, slightly too-long brown hair, and an aura of focused intensity. He’s certainly wealthy enough to satisfy Amber’s daydreams, but she said he’s controlling and bossy. Probably difficult to manipulate.
When I asked specifically, she swore he’s not violent or abusive. She simply doesn’t like him and doesn’t want to deal with him for four more months.
I suppose it might be true, but I doubt she would have left had she not already had a man waiting in the wings.
At this point, Amber’s rationale isn’t the most important thing to me. I can deal with William Worthing and with whatever other mess is present in my sister’s life.
At least no one is stalking or threatening to kill her.
Let Amber run off to some private island with her secret lover if that’s what she wants. I can temporarily become Amber Delacourte.
And Jade can just disappear.
* * *
The penthouse apartment is astonishing.
It’s huge and luxurious in a sleek, contemporary, minimalist style—with vast city views, white marble floors, black lacquer furniture, and lush white upholstery.
