The words had barely left her mouth when Harold Gilbert and Faith Curry exchanged a smiling glance.
"Tracey, I never imagined you'd have this much of a knack for it."
Faith let out a soft breath, but her hand didn't let go.
Harold stood off to the side and nodded his approval.
They thought I was acting.
I didn't smile. My eyes stayed fixed on the kiss mark at Faith's collarbone.
"I wasn't acting."
"Harold, you bought this house. Now I'm giving it back to you."
I went back into the bedroom, took the property deed from the drawer, and set it on the table.
Then I turned to the closet, pulled out my suitcase, and started packing my clothes into it, one piece at a time.
Harold frowned, his voice edged with exasperation.
"Tracey, stop this. Everything just now was only a performance."
"I'll have the movers bring all your things right back."
"No need."
"I told you I'm leaving."
I picked up the suitcase, turned, and headed for the door.
Harold caught my wrist, gripping hard enough to snap the bones.
"Tracey Butler, do you really have to be this petty about it?"
The smile drained from Faith's face, and tears slid down her cheeks, one after another.
"Harold, maybe you should just stop looking out for me."
"Thank you for taking care of me all this time. I... I don't think I'll do the mission after all."
With that, she turned, sobbing, and ran for the door, only for Harold to grab hold of her.
"Where do you think you're going? We're married. How could I possibly not look after you?"
He shot me an angry look, then kicked the suitcase over.
It slammed against the wall with a bang, clothes scattering across the floor.
Faith cried out and rushed to help me gather them, but the more she did, the messier it got, until she'd turned everything into a jumble.
"What's this?"
I looked over calmly and saw that, at some point, a stack of photos had appeared in the suitcase.
They were pictures of me and someone else, from childhood on up. The person in them looked a great deal like Harold.
But look closely, and his expression, his bearing, weren't Harold's at all.
The air congealed, little by little.
Harold's face went cold in an instant.
He stared at me with something venomous in his eyes, so furious it curdled into a laugh.
"So that's it. Tracey Butler, all this time I never understood why you'd be so good to me."
"Turns out I was nothing but a stand-in for the man you love."
"Get out. Get the hell out."
On the virtual screen, the number was plummeting.
At last it stopped at 5.
I looked at him once, made no sound, picked up the suitcase in silence, and turned away.
A storm had started outside at some point. I dragged my suitcase forward, one step at a time.
But in my mind I was working out how to burn off those last 5 points of affection.
As it happened, Faith didn't let me down.
On the third day after I was thrown out, she sent people to kidnap me.
The two of us were left hanging over a cliff, the churning sea heaving below.
"Mr. Gilbert, today you can only take one person with you. Your pregnant new bride, or your dear confidante. Your choice."
The kidnapper's finger pointed at the two of us swinging in the air.
"Tell me, who do you think Harold will pick in a minute?"
Faith was asking me, but there was a thread of smugness in her voice.
The next moment, I watched Harold's finger lift, trembling.
The direction it pointed was unmistakably Faith.
I looked at him quietly, a trace of release in my eyes, and smiled.
Faith laughed softly, the sound carried to me on the wind.
"Tracey Butler, you've lost. Completely."
"So then, go die. It's your own fault for standing in my way."
Snap. The rope binding me was cut clean through, under Harold's wide, splitting stare.
My body dropped fast toward the sea, and the waves rose up and swallowed me whole.
"Tracey!"
"No!"
Harold threw himself toward me like a madman.
At the same moment, the system's voice sounded, right on time.
"Conquest target Harold Gilbert's current affection level is 0. Congratulations, host. You're free."
