---- Chapter 9 | let the water take me. There was no struggle, no last-minute panic. Just a quiet surrender. My life played out behind my closed eyes, a series of bright, happy memories corrupted by the last three years of darkness. | hoped that in death, | would finally be free of them all. With a faint smile, | let go. At the resort, Caleb was getting impatient. "What is she playing at?" he muttered, checking his watch. "She's always been selfish," Fitzgerald said, taking a sip of his wine. "Even on a night like this, she has to make it all about her.' Hailie sidled up to Caleb, her face a perfect picture of concern. "Do you think she's okay? Maybe we were too hard on her." Beverley and Franklin, my parents, rushed to her side. "Don't you worry, dear," my mother cooed, patting Hailie's arm. "Ericka is just being difficult. She'll come around." "That's right," my father boomed. "Tonight, we're not just celebrating Ericka's birthday. We're going to officially announce that you're our daughter, Hailie. The daughter we always wanted." ---- Caleb flinched slightly, a flicker of doubt in his eyes. Hailie saw it and quickly intervened. "Oh, let's not rush things! Let's just have a good time tonight!" She pulled Caleb onto the dance floor, her laughter bright and carefree. Caleb let himself be pulled along, the unease in his gut slowly dissolving in the haze of alcohol and celebration. It was after midnight when his phone rang. An unknown number. He frowned, his head fuzzy from the champagne. "This is Caleb Skinner." The voice on the other end was professional, somber. "Mr. Skinner, this is the city morgue. Are you a relative of Ms. Ericka Reid?" Caleb's blood ran cold. He was suddenly, terrifyingly sober. "Yes. I'm her fiancé. What's happened?" Fitzgerald, seeing his brother's face, put down his glass, his own expression tense. "Sir," the voice said, "I'm sorry to inform you... there's been an incident at the city bridge. We've recovered a body." "No," Caleb whispered, his mind refusing to process the words. "No, it's a mistake. It's one of her games." He was shaking his head, his hand trembling so violently he could barely hold the phone. "It's a lie!" ---- "Sir, the body was identified as Ms. Ericka Reid. She left identification at the scene. We need you to come to the morgue." The phone slipped from Caleb's fingers, clattering to the floor. The world went silent. He couldn't breathe. Fitzgerald stared at him, his face ashen. "Caleb? What is it?" The police arrived minutes later. The news spread through the party like a plague. Beverley and Franklin collapsed into hysterics. Hailie stood to the side, her face pale, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. Annoyance? Caleb pushed past them all, running. He didn't know where he was going, just that he had to get away. Fitzgerald ran after him. They drove to the morgue in a blur of screeching tires and suffocating silence. Caleb's heart pounded with a desperate, frantic denial. It's a trick. It has to be a trick. But when a grim-faced attendant handed him a clear plastic bag, the denial shattered. Inside was a medical report. And a cell phone. He didn't need to see the body. He knew.