Chapter 1

It was our second wedding anniversary, but Marcus was late.

When he finally walked in, the smell of another woman's perfume clung to him, strong and sweet.

He didn't apologize.

He just gestured to the woman beside him, Chloe Sanders.

"This is Chloe," he said, his voice flat. "My new executive assistant. She's indispensable."

Chloe smiled, a quick, sharp thing.

I nodded, my heart a tight knot in my chest. It was always tight these days, a constant reminder of the clock ticking inside me.

My doctor said I needed rest, peace. I had neither.

Later, in the bedroom, the air was cold.

Marcus touched me, but his eyes were distant, focused on something I couldn't see.

He never really looked at me, not since we married.

He looked through me, at a ghost.

"You look so much like her," he'd whisper sometimes, his voice rough. "Eleanor."

Eleanor. My sister. The woman he claimed to love. The woman he believed I, as Tori, had killed.

Tonight, the charade was too much. My heart pounded, a painful, irregular beat. I was dying, I knew it.

"You loved Eleanor, didn't you?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

His hand tightened on my arm, cruel.

"Don't you dare say her name."

His eyes, when they finally met mine, were full of a hatred that stole my breath.

"You took her from me," he hissed, his face close to mine. "You, Tori."

Then he hit me.

The blow sent me stumbling back.

"Why did you marry me, Marcus?" I cried out, pain blooming on my cheek, in my heart. "If you hate Tori so much, why marry her? Can't you even tell us apart?"

He laughed, a harsh, ugly sound.

"Maybe I wanted to see you suffer every day, just like I do."

He grabbed my arm, dragged me to the door of our expensive Manhattan apartment, and threw me out.

The door slammed shut, leaving me in the cold hallway, the echo of his words ringing in my ears.

He wanted "Tori" to suffer.

Little did he know, Eleanor was suffering too, and she was dying.

Maybe his wish was coming true.