RUBY JANE

I remain as still as a corpse under the stranger's scrutiny.

Lisa. The stranger's name is Lisa Manoban I'm supposed to be her wife now.

The staff took me to a special massage room, undressed me, and placed me in a bubble bath full of roses, which is now my scent. After being the definition of trash, I currently feel like a rose plucked from a field.

And not in an I'll go to a better place way, but in an I'll probably wither and perish way.

The girls did all sorts of things to my body. They dyed my hair, waxed me, did my nails and my makeup. Then they put me in a straight brown dress that's a bit bigger than my thin frame. The heels are a perfect size, although they're uncomfortable and I can barely stand in them, let alone walk.

The entire time that they were turning me left and right, doing this and that, I felt like a doll. The type that's played with and tossed aside once the fun is over. Already, I felt like I was losing my will.

I didn't want to change my hair color. As hideous as it was, the blonde was something I had chosen. When I said that, the manager, who introduced herself as Emily, said she was following Mrs. Manoban's order and neither of us had a say in anything.

I chose not to make her job even harder, considering that she and the rest of her staff stayed late just for my sake. Lisa might feel normal doing that to other people, but I'm not like her. I dislike being the source of others' discomfort—it's a shitty place to be.

Lisa seems more and more like a sociopath, so I doubt she cares who might suffer because of her demands. As long as she gets what she wants, to hell with everyone else.

So even though Emily and her staff were attentive, I felt my skin crawling. No amount of rose baths or luxurious clothes would've made me feel comfortable.

It's like I've been thrust into an alternate reality and have been living on thick, murky air ever since this afternoon. Ever since I was trapped in her gray eyes. Ever since I made the mistake of existing in her space. And now, I'm starting to think it'll be impossible to find a way out.

But even if I did, where would I go? To jail?

Surely, the discomfort of being here is better than jail.

Or so I'd like to believe.

The moment I looked in the mirror after Emily and the others finished, I saw a reflection of the woman in the wedding picture Lisa showed me.

Jennie.

I'd become her and a tear nearly escaped my eyes at that thought.

Is there anything crueler than erasing one's identity? Than wiping away the essence of their being as if it never existed?

Because that's what I feel right now as I stand in front of her. I'm not Ruby Jane in her eyes. I'm already Jennie, and she intends to cement that fact into the very marrow of my bones going forward.

She won't be able to succeed.

I'm Ruby Jane Kim and I'm living on behalf of myself and my baby girl. No one will be able to erase those facts from my head, not even a frightening man like Lisa.

Bulky Blond and Crooked Nose are on either side of her. The bulky one doesn't look at me, but Crooked Nose stares for a second before diverting his attention to his hands that are clasped in front of him.

There's a red bruise on his cheek that I hadn't noticed earlier and I don't know why I dislike the sight of it. I don't know this man, and I'm sure that if his boss told him to execute me, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

Lisa stands, startling me from my thoughts. She's tall annd beautiful while sitting. But when she stands, towering over my short frame, I feel the need to bolt out of my skin.

She motions at me with her finger to turn around. I do, my cheeks flaming with pent-up anger. I know she thinks I'm of a lower class, but does she really consider me her pet or something?

"Is it to your liking, Ma'am?" Emily asks, hopefully, expectedly, like her approval is the bane of her existence.

She nods once as I stop, facing her. Emily grins wide as if she has just pleased the queen of the jungle and she'll throw a reward her way.

"Here's your coat, Mrs. Manoban." She offers it to me and I put it on, thankful that it hides the deep-cut sleeveless dress. I might have small breasts, but their curves were showing.

Lisa grabs me by the elbow and leads me to the elevators. Bulky Blond and Crooked Nose follow after us but keep a distance. Emily and the rest of her staff stand in front of the transparent glass of the elevator as a show of respect.

Lisa must be someone important if she has guards following her everywhere and staff standing by as she leaves.

I don't think she's a spy, but she seems more dangerous than a simple businessman. I peek a glance at her. She's still gripping me by the elbow, her touch gentle but firm. I know because when I attempt to remove my arm, she tightens her hold, forbidding any movements.

Her message is clear: I'm to go along with whatever she pleases. I signed my fate to her the moment she coerced me into this.

Or maybe it was when she first saw me and decided I'd be her wife.

When was that exactly? When she saved me from the passing van? Or was it when she asked me to clean my face as if the smudges on her wife's lookalike features offended her? Or did she perhaps see me in the shelter and has followed me since then?

The entire time Emily and the others transformed me into Jennie, I kept thinking about how she found me in the parking garage. I didn't sense anyone following me, and I have an acute awareness of my surroundings, considering my homeless status.

Ex-homeless now.

Any of my fellow homeless people would feel flattered by this opportunity, but my stomach has been knotting in and out of itself ever since Bulky Blond grabbed me by the hood and thrust me in his boss's direction.

When we exit the elevator, Bulky Blond hurries to the car and opens the back door. That's when I notice Lisa is only wearing a shirt and pants. "Your coat is upstairs. Should we go get it?"

"No."

"But it's freezing."

She stares at me for a beat. "Are you warm?"

"Yeah, but I'm already wearing a coat."

"It's fine then." She flattens a palm at the small of my back and places her other hand on top of the car to stop my head from bumping against it as she guides me inside.

My fingers tremble and I clasp them on my lap as I'm surrounded by the smell of leather from the seats. What is this feeling? No one should be this chivalrous yet terrifyingly dangerous at the same time.

But I have to remember that she's not seeing me right now. She's seeing Jennie in me. I don't know why that makes me want to reach out and…what? Remove myself from her skin? Would that even be possible anymore?

As soon as Lisa joins me and the guards take their seats up front, my stomach growls. The sound is so loud that Bulky Blond and Crooked Nose freeze.

I purse my lips, but I can feel the blood rising up my cheeks. Damn it. I've never been embarrassed about my hunger until this very moment.

Lisa's calm gaze slides to me, unaffected—bored, even. I wonder if she ever gets mad, then immediately push that thought out of my mind. She's terrifying in her calm mode, and I don't want to imagine how she is when she's angry.

"What do you want to eat?" she asks.

"I'm okay."

She taps an index finger against her thigh before stopping. "You're obviously hungry. Food comes with the deal, and, therefore, you don't have to feel self-conscious asking for it."

That's right. It's one of the main reasons I agreed to this in the first place.

"Anything." My voice is just above a whisper.

"Anything isn't food. Pick something."

"I don't care as long as it's…food."

"What if I get you fried cockroaches?"

My nose scrunches as I stare at her.

She raises a brow at my reaction. "You said anything."

"Not that."

"Then specify. If you don't express yourself, you'll get nothing from me."

Wow. Is she always this…infuriating?

"A sandwich," I snap and clamp my lips shut, hoping she didn't catch it.

If she disapproves of my tone, she says nothing and, instead, addresses Crooked Nose in a foreign language that I assume is Russian.

She looks slightly different as she speaks in it, but not exactly in a better way. More like authoritative and non-negotiable. She gives off that vibe with her subtle Russian accent, too, but it's clearer with her mother tongue. It could be because I don't speak the language, though.

Crooked Nose nods, then steps out. After ten minutes of utter silence, he comes back with a takeout bag. My mouth waters at the smell of hot bread and fresh vegetables. I wish Larry were here with me; he usually steals sandwiches for me and I share, but he always says he's full. He doesn't like me stealing alcohol, but he's fine with stealing food. That old man has a warped sense of morality.

However, none of the sandwiches he's brought me have ever smelled this divine. Like it's right out of an oven.

My stomach growls again, and this time, I don't try to hide it.

Crooked Nose hands the bag to Lisa, not me. Neither he nor Bulky Blond look in my direction.

Lisa opens the bag and hands me the sandwich. I don't even pause to see what's inside it. I bite straight into it, filling my mouth in one go. It melts on my tongue and I don't properly chew before gulping it down.

I'm about to take another bite when it's pulled from my fingers.

"W-what—" I stare incredulously at the perpetrator, Lisa, who snatched my sandwich. Please don't tell me she bought me food just to take it away.

"Eat slower or you'll get indigestion." She tears off a piece and places it in front of my mouth. I try to take it from her, but she shakes her head.

I really don't care about the method as long as I eat right now, so I open wide and let her put it in my mouth. As soon as it's inside, I swallow it in one go.

"Slower," she repeats, more firmly this time. "Chew first."

It's then I realize that we're actually moving. I've been so focused on the sandwich that I lost all awareness of my surroundings.

Except for Lisa.

One way or another, she's been present ever since I first met her. She's a quiet force that slowly creeps under my skin and leaves me panting for more—or less. Either way, she's there, under my skin, and it's impossible to breathe without feeling her presence.

It's baffling to think I've lived twenty-seven years and have never experienced such intensity. Such…raw, quiet display of power.

I've always thought those in power ensured it by brute methods, that they killed or schemed. That they were loud and barked orders—like Richard. Lisa is the complete opposite of that notion—she's silent, calm, but exudes an authority so raw, it's even more terrifying than those with loud power.

When Lisa gives me another piece of the sandwich, I chew, letting the spicy taste explode in my mouth. It's rich and exquisite and might very well be the most delicious meal I've had in…ever.

I don't protest as she continues to feed me, her fingers brushing against my lips with each bite. She has really masculine fingers—long, lean, and calloused enough to cause a weird sensation whenever they meet my skin—no matter how brief the contact.

She's patient, not attempting to hurry the process, as if she has all the time in the world to feed me. She fixes me with a disapproving stare, pausing when I don't chew long enough or when I do it fast, and that's my cue to slow down or she'll take my meal away.

By the time the sandwich is finished, I'm full. Not bloated like when Larry decides to go kamikaze and steal three sandwiches, but I'm full enough that I swallow the final bite with a sigh. I close my eyes to commit the taste to memory in case it's the last delicious meal I have for months.

It would be perfect if some alcohol came with it, too. I can feel the headache starting at the back of my skull, and I can't afford to be sober for too long.

When I open my eyes, I find Lisa watching me intently. Her forefinger taps on her thigh in a quiet rhythm as if it's participating in her observation.

I'm about to break eye contact—because it's still as unnerving as hell—when her next gesture stops me. I couldn't look away even if I wanted to.

Lisa plunges her index and middle finger into her mouth, sucking on the tips that are a bit greasy from how she fed me. The way her lips wrap around her skin sends a weird sensation through me. I want it to stop, but at the same time, I don't know if I'll like it if it stops.

She pops her fingers out and finishes by licking her thumb before she uses a paper napkin.

I force my gaze away to stare through the window. The city's endless buildings fly by us, but I can only see the way she thrust her fingers into her mouth as if she…was thrusting them somewhere else and—

My very inappropriate thoughts are interrupted when the car stops in front of a black metal gate that's as tall and as high as one at a palace.

It slowly opens with a loud creak that can be heard from inside the car. Bulky Blond drives inside before it's fully open.

I stare behind us and, sure enough, the gate is now closing.

Is this where Lisa lives?

I wasn't exactly focused on the road on the way here, but we drove far enough to be somewhere on the outskirts of the city.

I let my gaze slide ahead, thinking that I should engrave the details in my brain in case I need to use them later. But for what and to go where? The moment that black gate closes, I feel as if I'm trapped in a labyrinth. The fact that Bulky Blond keeps driving on and on down the driveway might have something to do with it, but that's not the only reason I feel like I've stepped into a place I shouldn't have.

The only thing I can make out are shadows of trees that look like ghosts at the threshold of a rich prince's gate, waiting to take his life for his cruelty. Wasn't there a story like that once upon a time? A prince who refused to feed the poor was cursed by a witch to become a beast.

The car finally stops in front of a gigantic mansion.

No. It's more like a castle from medieval times, but built in modern times.

The moon is the only light projecting down on it, and it's barely enough since it's partially hidden behind the clouds.

An eerie shadow falls on the dark building with its two-story architecture and its imposing size that sits on a large piece of land.

When people see a grandiose building, they either react with awe or intimidation, or both. Me, on the other hand?

I feel like fleeing.

Like I should sprint toward the black gate and climb it to escape.

Lisa and her guards get out of the car first. I'm not in a hurry. I can even spend the night here. It's warm and the leather seats are more comfortable than anything I've slept on.

Lisa, however, has other plans. She opens the door and extends her palm to me. I'm tempted to refuse it, but that would only start an unwanted battle. I'm so exhausted from this day's events, and all I want to do is crawl into a corner and sleep.

So I take her hand with a resounding sigh. She pulls me out and places a palm at the small of my back. The gesture of possessiveness, of staking her claim, doesn't escape me, but I don't dwell on it much either, because she's not doing it to me.

She's doing it to her wife.

As long as I don't consider myself her wife and can separate reality from the role I'm playing, everything will be fine.

And most importantly, I'll survive.

I allow her to lead me to a double metal door with a passcode bar on top. She runs her fingertip over the sensor and the door opens with a beep.

She gently pushes me ahead of her and I nearly stumble from the atrocious heels hurting my feet. Lisa wraps an arm around my waist, keeping me steady. As soon as I make sure I can stand, I attempt to wiggle away.

Her presence still gives me a weird feeling. The creeps mixed with fear and…something else I'd rather not identify.

"Stop trying to push away from me, Jennie."

"I'm not Jennie," I whisper.

"Yes, you are, and you'll start acting like it."

"I can't just act like another woman."

She pauses, her finger tapping once against her thigh. "Did you just talk back to me?"

"No." My voice is small. I really don't want to induce her wrath right now. Or ever, for that matter.

She doesn't seem convinced, but she says ever so calmly, "Your presence here is for one reason only—to be Jennie. You'll learn to act like it. In fact, you'll be her."

Yeah, right.

But I don't voice that thought, because judging by her brief show of anger just now, that would only get me in trouble.

I expect Bulky Blond and Crooked Nose to follow us, but they don't. The door closes behind us with a click and an automatic light comes on overhead in a vast reception area with pure white walls, dark wood flooring, and a round chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

There's a simple white table in the middle of the floor, surrounded by cream-colored high-back chairs. A wide, sweeping staircase with white railings leads upstairs. The hall is elegant and hints at a minimalist, refined taste, but there's something wrong.

There are no family pictures, no paintings. Nothing.

It's as if no humans live in this house. It's clean but impersonal.

I'm still studying my surroundings when a soft thudding sound comes from upstairs. I freeze, fingers sinking into my palm. Maybe my premonition about this house is coming true, after all, and I'll be attacked.

But then I recognize the sound. It's not threatening; if anything, it seems like…

My thoughts trail off when the footsteps grow nearer and a small human appears at the top of the stairs. He comes down, holding the spindles with each step, his tiny fingers wrapping around them like a vise. He looks no older than five, give or take.

There's no doubt who the little boy is.

He's the spitting image of Lisa with his dark hair and brown eyes. Only, his are lighter and bigger.

My suspicions are confirmed when he hops down the last two steps, yelling, "Dada!"

As he runs toward us, head focused on his feet as if not to lose sight of his steps, my heels falter. A harsh, unyielding weight pushes against my ribcage as if intending to crush the bones and pierce through my heart.

The sight of the boy brings back memories I've kept buried for so long.

Tiny hands and feet.

A little face.

The smell of a baby.

"Slow down, Liam," Lisa says from beside me, but I'm hearing her as if I'm underwater.

The boy, Liam, lifts his head and stops mid-run. His huge brown eyes meet mine and they widen even more as he whispers, "Mommy…?"

I don't know if it's the word or the way he looks at me as he says it, like he's found the world after he lost it, but tears I haven't shed in too long burst from my eyes.

They stream hard and fast down my cheeks, soaking my skin and ripping a sob out of my throat.

"Jennie?" Lisa grips me by my shoulders, lowering her head so she can look at my face. My vision is so blurry, I can't see her. That's when I realize that I'm shaking and my limbs can't carry me anymore.

"Jennie!"

"I'm not Jennie," I whisper as the darkness whisks me away.