Chapter 22

**A L E X**

Grace Miller stands at the counter, placing the black heels down without a word. She avoids looking at me, her face a careful mask of fake calm, as if all that did not just happen. I watch her, feeling a strange mix of irritation and something else I can’t quite name. It's as if she’s somewhere else entirely, disconnected from the moment. She's still wearing the red dress, her demeanour unsettlingly distant. I scan her body for any sign of wounds from where she could be bleeding, but I see nothing.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, breaking the silence. I glance at the screen—Lizzy. I hesitate, torn between answering the call and figuring out Grace Millers’ medical condition. With a sigh, I hand my card to the cashier and step outside, needing a moment away from Grace Miller's unsettling presence. I’ll look into the first aid later.

“Alex,” Lizzy’s voice crackles through the line, filled with urgency. “I’ve got the final details for tonight’s event. You need to approve the guest list.”

“Not now, Lizzy,” I mutter, rubbing my temples. “I’m in the middle of something.”

“Is everything alright?” she asks, concern evident in her tone.

“It’s... complicated,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

I end the call and take a deep breath, trying to collect myself. When I step back into the store, the air feels different, almost charged. I look around, expecting to see Grace Miller at the counter, but she's nowhere in sight. My heart skips a beat as I scan the room, my gaze finally landing on the changing room where her original clothes still hang untouched.

I approach the cashier, my voice tight. “Where’s Grace Miller?”

The cashier shifts nervously. “Sir, your friend left...with the bags and the card.”
For a moment, I can’t process what he's saying. She left? Just walked out? My eyes dart around the store again, my mind racing. I move quickly, checking the changing rooms and the area where we were looking at dresses. Her original clothes are still here, so she must have left in what she was wearing. I picture her walking these streets in that dress and my jaw ticks with anger.

Annoyance flares within me. She couldn't have waited a few minutes for me to finish the call? I step outside, scanning the street for any sign of her. Nothing. It’s as if she vanished into thin air. The realization that she probably passed by me while I was on call, without a word, is bothering me more than I care to admit.

I thank the cashier and head towards the car to find her and get my card back, my irritation simmering. Grace Miller is turning out to be more trouble than I anticipated, and I can't help but feel annoyed by her unpredictable behaviour.

As I head toward the car, I pull out my phone to call Lizzy and tell her to hold the girl in place. The line rings, each tone grating on my nerves. Finally, she picks up.

“Alex, what's going on?” Lizzy asks, sounding concerned.

“Can you make sure you keep Grace Miller with you till I get there?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady despite the growing unease.

“Um, Grace? She's not here. Why?” Lizzy replies, her confusion clear.

I pause, the words catching in my throat. “She’s not with you? Are you sure?” I look around again, the streets are busy, yet there is no red in sight.
“Alex, she’s not here, what happened?” she replies, her voice now alert.

“I’m checking,” I say, frustration lacing my words. “I’ll call you back.”

Ending the call, I turn back around, scanning the street once more. Still no sign of her. I quickly dial Carl’s number, hoping against hope that she's with him.

“Carl, is Sophia next to you?”

“Yeah, why?” He answers and his tine is too jolly for my spoil mood.

“Step away.” I wait for him to get away from my sister. “Is Grace Millers there?” I ask, barely keeping the urgency from my voice.

“No, boss,” Carl replies. “I haven’t seen her since we left. Is something wrong?”

“No, keep Soph busy.” I hang up without explaining, my mind racing. Something isn’t right. I rush back into the store, nearly running into the cashier’s counter. He looks up, startled by my sudden reappearance.

“Did she say where she was going?” I demand, my voice sharper than intended.

The cashier shakes his head, looking a bit uneasy. “No, sir. She just... left. She seemed worried, like she was in a hurry. We tried to give her back her original clothes, but she didn't take them.”

He gestures to a neatly packed bag on the counter. I stare at it, the reality of the situation starting to sink in. Slowly, I reach out and take the bag from him.

“She left... and took my card,” I mutter as I step back into the open air, the realization hitting me like a punch to the gut. My mind races, piecing together the possibilities. Did she fucking run with my card? The thought is absurd, but the evidence is right in front of me.
I grit my teeth, forcing myself to stay calm. I pull my phone out and call Lizzy.
“She’s run off,” I say, more to myself than to Lizzy the moment she answers. “She’s gone.”

The realization settles in as I speak it out loud, a mix of anger and... something else. Frustration, maybe. Or a grudging respect for her nerve. I hang up and turn back to the store, scanning the area one last time. There’s no sign of her.

She’s really gone. And she has my card.

I can’t help but let out a short, harsh laugh. Grace Millers, the girl who hates crime–pretends to hate crime–just pulled a stunt worthy of a con artist. There’s a part of me that wants to chase after her, to bring her back and demand an explanation. But another part—the more rational part—tells me to let her go. She’s made her choice, and now it’s up to her to deal with the consequences. Sophie will see her for who she is and we will be once and for all rid of her.

As I leave the store, my mind is already racing, considering my next move. She’s not going to get away with this. Not this time.

And yet, as I walk out into the street, I can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t just about the card or the dress. It’s about her, and the twisted, complicated game we’ve been playing. A game that, despite everything, I’m not ready to end.

Not yet.