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She Faked Blindness, I Faked Parkinson’s
Novelix
Completed
My husband‘s childhood friend claimed she was too blind to see. She sat in his lap, shredded my wedding dress, and slept in our bed. In my last life, I died bleeding on the floor while she “couldn’t read the caller ID.” My baby died with me. This time, I came back with early-onset Parkinson‘s. My hands shake. I can’t control them—or so I tell everyone. She used her blindness as a shield. I used my tremor as a weapon. By the end, she owed me everything, my husband was in federal prison, and my “Parkinson’s” had made a full recovery. Funny how that worked out.
Chapters (3)
第1章
My husband's best friend since childhood, Vanessa Brooks, claimed to be severely nearsighted.
At dinner with a group of friends, she dropped straight into my husband's lap. A second later, she jumped up with a theatrical gasp.
"Oh my God, Claire, I'm so sorry! My eyesight is terrible. I honestly thought the chair was empty!"
The $150,000 wedding gown I had chosen was shredded while I was away.
When I confronted her, she looked ready to cry.
"Claire, I can barely tell clothes apart without my contacts. It was white, so I thought it was one of the new cleaning rags."
Her "severe nearsightedness" became an all-purpose excuse. She wore my husband's shirts. She slept in my husband's bed.
Then, when I was nine months pregnant and rolling on the floor in agony, I called Ethan for help.
Vanessa secretly ended the call.
"Oops. I couldn't read the caller ID. I thought it was a telemarketer."
I bled to death before anyone came. My baby died with me.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the dinner where Vanessa had sat on Ethan's lap.
She was still cooing, "I really thought nobody was sitting there."
I picked up the cup of scalding ginseng tea beside me and threw it in her face without hesitation.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I was just diagnosed with early-onset Parkinson's. I can't control my hands. You don't mind, do you?"
The scalding tea splashed across Vanessa's chest.
Her scream tore through the private dining room.
Ethan Caldwell shoved her off his lap, leaped to his feet, and roared at me.
"Claire Bennett, have you lost your mind? Vanessa made an innocent mistake because she couldn't see, and you threw boiling water on her!"
I slammed the empty cup onto the table.
"I told you. I have Parkinson's. My hands shake. I can't control them."
I raised my right hand and made it tremble violently in midair.
Vanessa clutched the angry red skin above her neckline as tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Claire, I know you don't like me. But I really am severely nearsighted. I forgot my contacts, so I sat in the wrong place. If you don't want me here, I'll leave."
Our friends immediately turned on me.
"Claire, you're being ridiculously petty. Vanessa and Ethan have known each other since kindergarten. So she sat on his lap for one second. Who cares?"
"Her prescription is minus eight. She didn't do it on purpose."
"And now you're pretending to have Parkinson's? You're barely thirty. Who do you expect to believe that?"
I grabbed the platter of spicy poached fish that had just arrived.
With one flick of my wrist, I dumped the whole thing, broth, chili oil, peppercorns and all, over the man who had just spoken. His custom Italian suit disappeared under a slick coat of red.
"Oops. My hand shook again."
He stared at his ruined $15,000 suit, then jumped up cursing as he desperately brushed chilies and peppercorns off the fabric.
The room went silent.
Ethan lunged at me and grabbed my wrist.
"Are you finished? Apologize to Vanessa and Derek right now!"
I slapped him across the face.
The crack echoed through the room.
"Tremor. Couldn't help it."
Ethan covered his cheek and stared at me in disbelief.
Vanessa rushed over and wrapped both hands around his arm. Tears slid down her cheeks without smudging her mascara.
"Ethan, please don't blame Claire. This is all my fault. If I were completely blind, I wouldn't keep upsetting her, and the two of you wouldn't fight because of me."
I nodded.
"If you're that blind, I'll take you to an ophthalmologist right now. Ethan, you can take me to neurology. My Parkinson's clearly needs immediate treatment."
Ethan clenched his teeth.
"Claire, don't push it."
I pulled out my phone and called 911.
"Hi, we're in the private dining room at The Wellington. One person has been scalded, another is hyperventilating over a ruined suit, and we have a visually impaired woman who apparently can't tell a grown man from an empty chair. We need an ambulance."
I ended the call, pulled out my chair, and sat down.
"Nobody leaves. Every sick person in this room is going to the hospital."
第2章
The ambulance took Vanessa to St. Joseph Medical Center downtown. Ethan rode with her. The rest of us followed.
At the emergency room, I complained about my tremors until a neurology resident evaluated me and ordered follow-up testing. Once the burn team dressed Vanessa's chest, I carried my paperwork to the hospital's urgent eye clinic.
Vanessa was leaning against Ethan, whimpering about the burn.
I walked over and yanked her out of his arms.
"Doctor, fit her with the thickest glasses her actual prescription requires. And make the frames impossible to miss."
The ophthalmologist blinked.
"Her myopia is significant, but modern high-index lenses can correct it without being unusually thick."
I laughed coldly.
"She mistook a six-foot man for an empty chair and sat down on him. If the prescription isn't the problem, then perhaps we should discuss why she keeps behaving as if she's blind."
Vanessa shook her head frantically, tears spilling down her face.
"I won't wear glasses! They make me look hideous. Ethan, help me!"
Ethan stepped in front of her.
"That's enough, Claire. Vanessa cares about her appearance, so she normally wears contacts. She just forgot them today."
I pulled a bottle of industrial-strength superglue from my purse.
"You don't want glasses? Fine. I'll glue the contacts to your eyeballs. Then you'll never forget them again."
I twisted off the cap and walked toward her.
Vanessa screamed and hid behind Ethan.
Ethan seized my hand.
"You're insane!"
My wrist jerked, and glue shot all over the front of his suit jacket.
"Parkinson's. Nothing I can do."
Ethan shook with rage. He tore off the expensive jacket and threw it in the trash.
I turned back to the doctor.
"Use her real prescription. Put it in thick black frames, and make sure she leaves with them on. If she walks out unable to identify furniture, I'll file a patient-safety complaint."
The doctor looked exhausted, but the prescription itself was medically appropriate. He sent us to the optical shop across the lobby for temporary lenses and heavy black frames.
Half an hour later, the glasses sat on Vanessa's face.
She looked in the mirror and burst into tears.
I walked over and slapped the remaining superglue onto the counter.
"If you take those glasses off, I'll glue them to the bridge of your nose."
Vanessa clutched the frames. She was too frightened even to cry out loud.
When we got home, I locked Ethan outside.
He pounded on the door.
"Claire! Open this door! I don't feel right leaving Vanessa alone at a hotel. She can't see. I need to grab some things and go take care of her."
I shouted through the door.
"Go ahead. But if you leave, don't come back."
The hallway went quiet.
I knew Ethan would not dare walk away.
My father's family trust had provided the seed money for Ethan's company and still controlled its main line of credit. With me taking this hard a line, Ethan knew that if he openly turned against me, the trust could freeze his financing by morning.
第3章
The next day, I had the locks changed before I went to work.
I came home early that afternoon.
The moment I opened the door, I saw Vanessa wandering around my living room in an oversized white garment, her bare legs on full display.
The thick glasses were gone.
As soon as she saw me, she arranged her face into a look of panic.
"Claire, please don't misunderstand. I couldn't see, and I thought this was mine."
I studied what she was wearing.
It was not a shirt.
It was a limited-edition silk couture dress that had cost me $15,000. I had deliberately hung it in Ethan's closet.
Not only had she put it on, but she had cut the hem short.
I crossed the room and slapped her.
Vanessa fell onto the couch.
"Claire! What gives you the right to hit me?"
I pointed at the dress.
"Your eyes don't work, and neither do your hands? That's a limited-edition couture dress. How did you mistake it for a man's shirt?"
She held her cheek, her eyes swimming with tears.
"I honestly couldn't tell. The cut looked like something Ethan would wear."
I nodded.
"Fine. You couldn't tell. Then what were you doing in the primary bedroom?"
The bedroom door stood wide open.
My bed was a wreck, and there was a damp stain on the sheets.
Vanessa bit her lip.
"I was exhausted. The hallway was blurry, and I opened the wrong door. Don't be mad, Claire. I'll wash the sheets right now."
I turned toward the kitchen, summoned my Parkinson's, and came back with a chef's knife trembling in my hand.
Vanessa screamed and scrambled toward the front door.
I caught up and kicked the back of her knee.
She dropped to the floor.
I raised the knife and aimed it at the silk dress.
"Since you love wearing my clothes, let me improve the design for you."
The blade flashed down and sliced through the back of the dress.
Vanessa shrieked and covered her chest.
I grabbed her by the hair, dragged her into the hallway, and threw her out.
"Get out."
She stood barefoot in the hall, barely covered by torn silk.
I shut the door.
When Ethan came home that night, he found Vanessa shivering in the hallway, wrapped in an old coat borrowed from a neighbor.
He stormed into the apartment and pointed in my face.
"Claire Bennett, you're vicious! Vanessa walked into the wrong room and put on the wrong clothes, so you threw her out half-naked? How is she supposed to face anyone after this?"
I sat on the couch, filing my nails.
"She's severely nearsighted, isn't she? Even if people stare at her, she can't see them. What's the problem?"
Ethan grabbed a glass from the table and hurled it to the floor.
"You will apologize to Vanessa, and you will let her stay here!"
I set down the nail file and stood.
"Did you forget who paid for this apartment? I bought it before we married, and my name is the only one on the deed. It's my separate property. I decide who stays and who goes. You don't get a vote."
Ethan's face darkened.
"I'm your husband. I have every right to decide who lives in our home."
I stepped close and looked him straight in the eye.
"Say one more word, and you'll be homeless too."
His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
He turned around, led Vanessa away, and checked them both into a hotel.
