Chapter 385 Human Skin Mask
The night was pitch black, swallowing up every corner of the city. The small road near the hospital was eerily quiet, the streetlights flickering on and off, casting strange shadows with each of Scarlett's steps.
Scarlett sighed deeply, thinking back to her once lavish lifestyle. She used to be a true socialite, always chauffeured in a Rolls-Royce, wearing clothes that cost a fortune, and casually accessorizing with expensive jewelry.
As she remembered her past luxury, this rundown road felt humiliating. Her high heels clicked against the dirty pavement, each step seemingly tarnishing her former dignity. She recalled her past opulence, where her personal driver was always on standby, and with effortless ease, she could swap out her designer handbags.
But now? She had to walk alone at night, stripped of even the most basic semblance of respectability. The Russell family's assets had been stripped away layer by layer, leaving her without a decent place to live. Those relatives and friends who once flattered her now probably wouldn't even give her a second glance.
"God," she muttered under her breath, "how did I end up like this?"
Emma and Michael opposing her was one thing, but she never expected her beloved niece Phoenix to betray her! This child, whom she had treated as her own, was once the most precious person in her life.
She remembered the phone call Phoenix made after fleeing abroad.
"Aunt Scarlett, I'm sorry. This world is too cruel, forcing me to do this!" At that moment, the voice on the other end of the line seemed to convey endless sorrow and dissatisfaction.
However, Scarlett had no idea that a nightmare woven by Phoenix herself was quietly unfolding.
A shadow suddenly darted out from the bushes by the roadside. Before Scarlett could react, a heavy blow struck the back of her head. Her vision went black, and her body collapsed, hitting the ground without even a chance to scream.
When she woke up, she found herself trapped in a cold, damp basement. The walls were mottled with mold, and the air was thick with a musty smell. Her hands and feet were tightly bound, and a rag stuffed in her mouth muffled her cries.
In the next room, Phoenix was staring at a monitor, her eyes gleaming with a mad cold light.
"Aunt Scarlett," she whispered to herself, "you taught me that this world is survival of the fittest. I'm just using the methods you taught me to survive."
Beside Phoenix stood a makeup artist.
This makeup artist was a top special effects makeup master in the industry. He meticulously measured Scarlett's facial features, capturing every detail with the most precise 3D scanner. From skin texture to pore depth, from wrinkle direction to fine lines at the corners of her eyes, everything was perfectly recorded. This was a flawless makeup performance, an impeccable identity swap.
All night long, the makeup artist worked like an artist sculpting a masterpiece. When the first rays of morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, a lifelike Scarlett mask had been created. It was a face so realistic that even Scarlett herself would be terrified.
The moment Phoenix put on the mask, her entire demeanor shifted. She wasn't just mimicking Scarlett; she was becoming her. Like a shadow ready to consume the original, she stood before the mirror, her eyes gleaming with determination.
"I am Scarlett," she whispered to her reflection. "From now on, Charles's inheritance is mine. George is mine too!"
On the monitor, the real Scarlett continued to struggle helplessly in the basement. She had no idea her identity had been perfectly replaced.
Phoenix adjusted her clothes, took a phone call, and then walked towards the hospital with a composed stride. The sunlight bathed her, seemingly adding a layer of false brilliance to the impending conspiracy.
The night before.
Inside the ambulance, Charles lay quietly on a professional medical stretcher. As a comatose patient, he seemed disconnected from the world, with only faint breaths proving he was still alive.
The doctor and nurse exchanged a slightly resigned look.
"Another comatose patient transfer," the nurse whispered to the doctor. "There's almost no hope in these cases."
Emma sat carefully beside the stretcher, gently holding Charles's hand. She harbored a secret hope that, even though Charles seemed completely unaware, perhaps deep down he could still feel the warmth and care from the outside world.
"Grandpa," she whispered, "We're almost home. George has prepared the most comfortable room for you, with professional medical equipment and round-the-clock care."
The doctor couldn't help but glance back. "Family members always have such high hopes for comatose patients," he murmured. The nurse nodded slightly, her eyes showing a hint of sympathy.
Their voices were so low that Emma couldn't hear them. She was just tenderly adjusting Charles's blanket, ensuring he wouldn't feel a bit of cold.
"Grandpa, remember how you always said my steak was the best in the family?" Emma murmured. "When you get better, I'll make you the most delicious steak."
At that moment, a miracle happened.
Charles, who had been lifeless, slightly moved his fingers. The doctor turned sharply, a look of disbelief flashing in his eyes. "Did you see that?" he exclaimed softly.
"Emma." A weak but real voice struggled out of Charles's throat.
The nurse's clipboard instantly fell to the floor. "Oh my God!" she couldn't help but scream. "How is this possible?"
The doctor quickly opened the portable heart monitor, his fingers flying over the screen. "Vital signs are normal, and brain wave activity is significant! This is a medical miracle!"
Emma's voice trembled with excitement. "Grandpa? You spoke?"
Charles blinked laboriously, a glimmer of light in his eyes.
"Water, water," he said with difficulty.
The nurse, trembling, took out her stethoscope. "I need to document this moment! This case could go down in medical history!"
The doctor was flushed with excitement. "The odds of this are one in a million! It's unbelievable!"
The ambulance was filled with an atmosphere of disbelief. A patient thought to be forever comatose had miraculously regained consciousness.
Emma immediately took out her phone and sent George a video. "George, look! Grandpa, Grandpa woke up!"
George's pupils contracted sharply as he received the video. In the footage, Emma was beaming with joy. "Grandpa opened his eyes! He spoke!"
George quickly turned his car around, flooring the gas pedal, racing towards the ambulance's location.
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