A ride to Los Angeles

Chapter 3

Tiphanny

"Sweetheart," Frederic Griffith insisted again, "can you hear me?"

I pull my gaze away from the mirror, which reflects Jessica Elishon, not Tiphanny Meelver, and meet the eyes of the famous and handsome actor sitting in the chair next to my hospital bed.

"Jessica..."

I definitely can’t tell him that I’m not Jessica. He’d think I'm crazy. I have to act like her. But how does a millionaire star actually behave with her equally famous and wealthy husband?

"What... what happened?" I ask, finally starting a conversation.

Frederic looks at me worriedly, takes a deep breath, and then responds:

"Someone tried to kill you."

My breath catches.

"W... what? Who?"

"That’s the problem. The police have already started an investigation, but we don’t have any clues about who it could be. I’m afraid the situation is serious... I’ll hire more bodyguards, and we’ll have to be much more careful."

The thought of being followed around all day by a crowd of bodyguards already terrifies me. God, I hope this is just a dream, and I’ll wake up any moment now back in Mississippi.

"Do you remember anything from the gala, sweetheart?" he asks me.

I shake my head, and he nods, taking my hand in his.

"You were shot in the middle of the evening, right in the shoulder."

That explains the pain I feel in my left shoulder. Well, at least it didn’t hit a vital point, I tell myself.

"You’ll need a few days to recover. Luckily, the wound wasn’t that serious, and the doctors removed the bullet easily. But you need to rest... a tough period lies ahead. The press wants to know as many details as possible."

I cringe at the thought of being bombarded with questions and having to speak in front of hundreds of cameras. Jessica is probably used to this lifestyle, but I’m not. I want to go back home, to my family, my friends...

To Martin...

Who knows how long I’ll be stuck in this nightmare, or if... Oh, God! What if I can never go back to normal? What if I can never see my parents, my brother, my boyfriend again?

Another woman is in my body now, and she has Martin.

My Martin.

This horrible thought makes my breathing even harder.

"Jessica?"

I don’t even hear him.

"Jessica, do you want me to call a nurse?"

I want to scream, to shout out loud that my name isn’t Jessica, that no, I don’t want him to call any nurse. I only want him, Martin. I want to go home. I don’t want to give any interview or explain anything to anyone. I don’t want dozens of bodyguards following me everywhere.

But I couldn’t say any of that.

"I know it’s a lot to process..."

You have no idea, I thought.

"But you need to rest," he finished the sentence.

I took a deep breath and managed to calm down a little. It was enough for the moment.

"See you tomorrow, Jessica..."

I turn my head and meet his cold gaze. He seems worried, but at the same time, in control of the situation, far too relaxed for the situation we’re in.

He stands up from the chair and leaves the room without saying anything else. Not even goodbye. I watch him walk away confidently in his suit, which probably cost a fortune. He closes the door behind him without even making sure I’m okay. Martin would never have done that.

Martin...

I turn to face the wall opposite the door so that, in case someone comes in, they won’t see the tears streaming down my face.