Emerald
The afternoon sun burned into my skin, but after weeks trapped within sterile white walls, its heat felt almost pleasant. Bees buzzed among blooming flowers and birds chirped overhead. I tilted my head back, closing my eyes to savour the breeze as my nurse wheeled me through the hospital garden.
"Let's sit here for a while, Miss Francesca," she said, parking me beneath a sprawling oak tree.
Francesca. That was my name now. A month had crawled by since I woke up in this body that wasn't mine, surrounded by people I hated, suffocated by affection I didn't want, and haunted by screams only I seemed to hear.
Dr. Yusuf said I was healing remarkably well and just needed to rebuild my muscle strength. He spoke like it was simple, as if learning to walk again after two years in a coma was like flipping a switch. It wasn't. It was humiliating, painful, and frustrating. Every physiotherapy session felt like dragging dead weights through wet cement. Sweat drenched me even when all I managed was lifting a leg an inch off the mat.
I hated every moment, but I couldn't stop. I'd been given a second chance. I wasn't going to waste it. I had a new family now, and I intended to enjoy every privilege that came with being Francesca Ainsleigh.
I never spoke about Francesca to anyone. Not Marcus, who hovered like an annoying guard dog. Not Rebecca, who wept over every tremble of my lips. Not Landon, who barked orders at nurses like a tyrant. As if in silent agreement, no one else brought her up either.
But I was curious. Curious about how she was faring in my body. Curious about what Marcus did to her after she tried to suffocate me, demanding I return her body. I refused to ask. Hearing about her suffering wouldn't ease the hatred in my soul. I wanted to see it with my own eyes.
I used to want Francesca's family to suffer. I wanted to see them lose everything. But now they were my family, so I kept quiet. I pretended to smile at them even though I felt nothing but hate inside. Their love felt strange because it wasn't meant for me. Maybe one day I'd get used to it, but not with Marcus.
My skin prickled with unease, and I felt eyes drilling into me. I opened my eyes, scanning the garden and my mouth went dry when I saw him.
He stood near a rose trellis, tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair that curled slightly at the ends, tousled by the breeze. Olive skin kissed by the sun, sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, lips pressed into a thin line of disdain.
But it was his eyes that stole my breath. Dark as obsidian, sharp and cold. My heart flickered when they met mine, narrowing with unfiltered disgust.
Huh. Why was he staring at me like I was filth? Then I remembered. I wasn't Emerald anymore. I was Francesca. And Francesca was a spoilt, venom-tongued brat who collected enemies like other women collected perfumes.
I saw a man handsome enough to put gods to shame, but his look of utter revulsion made my shoulders slump. If he hated Francesca, then he hated me. The thought should have bothered me. Instead, it thrilled me. I loved his glare, loved how his eyes darkened even further when I smiled sweetly at him.
His scowl deepened, sending a flutter through my chest. God, he was too attractive for his own good. That scowl, meant to intimidate me, only made me want to climb him like a monkey. If I could move, I probably wouldn't have stopped myself. But alas, I couldn't.
An old man in a wheelchair was wheeled out to him by an orderly. Instantly, the stranger's expression softened. He dismissed the orderly with a curt nod and took over, pushing the old man with gentle hands.
The old man turned and caught sight of me. His light blue eyes lit up. He slapped the young man's wrist sharply, making him flinch.
"Drive me over there. Now," the old man snapped in Italian-accented English, pointing at me.
"Nonno," the young man frowned, "You asked me to come because we have an important discussion. Can't you pretend not to see her?" He did not care if I could hear him.
The old man jabbed him with his cane. "Go."
A smug smile curled my lips as I watched the young man slump in defeat. I could have asked my nurse to wheel me over just to annoy him, but it was so much better watching him forced to come to me.
Before he could move, a shadow fell over me.
"Why are you outside?" Marcus asked, crouching beside my wheelchair. His hand covered mine, and I forced myself not to recoil. "You should be resting."
No, fuckface, I shouldn't.
"I was suffocating in my room," I said flatly, my lips pressed in a thin line.
"Babe." He sighed, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. "You should have waited for me. I'll take you inside now."
I squeezed my eyes shut, praying for strength not to snap at him. If he knew how much I hated his touch, how I hated that stupid endearment, how badly I wanted to stab him in the throat, he'd run for his life.
"Marcus," the old man's voice boomed. "Bring Franny over here."
Marcus stiffened. His eyes darkened as he looked across the garden, rage flickering across his face before he masked it with a cold smile.
He turned to me. "Do you want to go over?"
"Ahh…" I pretended to hesitate. "Yes."
"You hate him," Marcus said under his breath, glaring at the young man. "You also dislike his grandpa, Mr Caruso."
I shrugged. "Doesn't matter now. We need to show grandpa some respect."
Confusion flickered across his face. For a moment I thought he'd question me, but he sighed and wheeled me across the grass.
As we approached, Marcus and the young man exchanged stiff nods and shook hands, gripping each other's fingers so hard I half-expected bones to crack. Their smiles were thin, their hatred so thick I could almost taste it.
"Francesca, darling," the old man greeted warmly. "Finally awake, I see."
I smiled politely. "Yes, sir. It's good to see you."
"Ha! Being polite for once," he chuckled, then sighed. "We thought we'd lost you. I'm happy you're back."
The young man, Leonardo, as the old man introduced him, inclined his head with a scowl. "Miss Francesca."
His voice was deep, smooth, with a clipped accent that sent shivers down my spine. God, he was even hotter up close.
"You still remember us, don't you?" Grandpa Caruso asked. "Your parents said you were diagnosed with retrograde amnesia."
Ah, yes. That diagnosis came after her extended family visited and I stared at them like strangers. They really were strangers to me, not that they knew.
"No, grandpa. I cannot remember you or your son. But you're very handsome, grandpa," I said sweetly, just to fuck with Leonardo.
The old man threw his head back and laughed, eyes twinkling. Leonardo's expression turned thunderous, and I almost giggled. He looked like he wanted to choke me – which, honestly, I wouldn't mind… just not in the way he intended.
"Ah, my darling girl," Grandpa chuckled, "your accident did nothing to curb that sharp tongue."
He jerked his chin at Marcus. "If you ever get tired of this brute, Leo is always available."
Marcus bristled. "Francesca would never leave me."
Leonardo scoffed. "I don't want a snotty heiress anyway. You can keep her. Yohh uh both deserve each other,"
A thrill shot through me. His rejection only made him more attractive, and Marcus's glare of pure rage sweetened it further.
I studied Leonardo's hard profile as he moved away to stand by the roses, trying to ignore us.
In that moment, a plan formed in my mind. Dark. Dangerous. Delicious.
Marcus thought he owned me. That I was Francesca, his beloved fiancée.
Looking at Leonardo, I realised there was a way to punish Marcus. To hurt him so deeply it would make everything worth it.
In my past life, nearly losing Francesca to the accident had driven him mad. He drank himself into oblivion, staring at her pictures and sobbing for hours. I wonder what it would be like for him if Francesca decides to leave him.
I would pursue Leonardo.
I would make him want me. Need me. I would worm my way into his life, his heart, his bed.
And then… I would dump Marcus like the trash he was.
Slowly. Painfully. Publicly.
I smiled to myself as Marcus told Grandpa Caruso that I have been out for long and needed to rest. I said goodbye to Grandpa Caruso.
As Marcus wheeled me away, I smiled at Leonardo, relishing the burn of his glare. My muscles still ached. My bones felt hollow. But for the first time since waking in Francesca's body, a spark of excitement burned in my chest.
Leonardo might hate me now. But that would change.
It was only a matter of time.