Chapter 12
“Let me go!”
Julian Carter’s arms shot out to shield the woman from slamming into the doorframe, but instead of releasing her, he pulled her tighter.
The front desk receptionist jumped to her feet in alarm and rushed forward, trying to separate them.
But Julian didn’t even notice her. His bloodshot eyes were locked on the woman in his arms, the one he thought he’d lost forever.
His breath hit her ear in ragged, choked exhales. “You’re back… you finally came back…”
The woman—Rue Lawson—squirmed, clearly horrified, pushing hard against his chest. With a desperate twist, she broke free of his hold.
Just then, a man emerged from a nearby office lounge—Rue’s older brother, Dr. Luke Lawson. He took one look at the scene and stormed over, shoving Julian back with a scowl.
“Who the hell are you? You think you can just grab my sister like that?”
Rue tugged on Luke’s sleeve, her voice soft but urgent.
“Luke, he’s your client. Must’ve mistaken me for someone else.”
Julian froze. The look in her eyes—so distant, so cold—cut deeper than any blade. There was no recognition. No pain. Just… revulsion.
Isla would never have looked at him like that.
He swallowed hard. “You’re not… Isla Monroe?”
Rue blinked, confused. “Isla? No. I’m Rue. Rue Lawson.”
And just like that, whatever fragile hope Julian had left died in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I thought…”
Rue, unfazed, shrugged. Working at her brother’s clinic, she’d seen clients lose it in all kinds of ways. A man mistaking her for a dead ex? Pretty standard on the crazy scale.
“It’s okay. Must be this face—super generic.”
Luke shot Julian another cautious look and ushered Rue away.
She had plans for the afternoon anyway, so she nodded and left.
Inside the car, Rue leaned back, letting out a slow breath. Julian Carter’s face lingered in her mind like smoke. Her body had reacted strangely—tensing up the moment their eyes met. A deep, visceral discomfort.
Emotions that weren’t hers.
Of course, that made sense. Rue Lawson wasn’t originally Rue. The real Rue had died—or more accurately, gone brain-dead—after a car accident. When she woke up in Rue’s body six months ago, she remembered nothing of her past except one thing: she didn’t belong in this world.
The original Rue had been in a coma for four years. Her parents died in the same crash that took her consciousness, leaving a massive inheritance. Since then, it had been just her and Luke—her brother, her guardian, her lifeline.
Since waking up, Luke had treated her like she was made of glass. Hovering. Overprotective. Sweet, really—but exhausting.
She shook her head, trying to clear the image of Julian’s haunted face from her mind.
Halfway to her next stop, her phone rang. It was her best friend, Anna Weston.
“Rue! You on your way yet?”
“Yeah,” Rue said, glancing at the GPS. “I’m almost at the hospital.”
Anna’s voice turned giddy. “Yay! Sending you my room number. Don’t get lost.”
The hospital was a maze, and it took Rue a good ten minutes to navigate to the right building. The rehab wing was full of post-op patients, some doing physical therapy with nurses at their side.
Rue was hurrying past a corner when she accidentally bumped into a nurse helping a female patient.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry—” Rue turned to apologize.
She didn’t see the woman’s reaction.
The patient—pale, frail, and confined to a wheelchair—was staring at her with sheer terror. The color drained from her face.
It was Rachel Carter.
Her scream pierced the hallway like a siren.
“ISLA?! You’re dead! You’re supposed to be DEAD!”
