Chapter 1

The news blared about Anna Reid, the philanthropist wife of tech billionaire Elijah Vance.

Missing.

Then found dead. An accident, they said.

Our town was small, and news like that hit hard, especially with the economy tanking.

My sister, Tiffany, stood before me, her eyes glittering.

She was younger, an aspiring Instagram model, and looked disturbingly like the deceased Anna Reid.

"Chloe," she said, her voice low and urgent.

"You're a forensic reconstruction artist, right? You can make faces."

I nodded slowly, a cold feeling spreading in my chest. I usually worked with skulls, or blurry photos for the cops.

"I need you to make me look exactly like Anna Reid."

I stared at her. "What? Why?"

A slow, cruel smile spread across her face.

"I arranged her little 'accident,' sis. It was easy."

The words hit me like a physical blow.

"Tiffany... no. You didn't."

"Oh, I did. And now, I'm going to be her. I'm going to have her life."

I felt sick. "You can't. Tiffany, Vance is a dangerous man. He's ruthless."

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you saying no?"

"This is insane. You'll get caught. He'll destroy you."

"You're just jealous!" she shrieked, her face contorting. "You've always been jealous!"

She lunged.

Pain exploded in my face. Again. And again.

Her voice was a snarl, close to my ear.

"If I can't be rich and famous, you won't live to see another day!"

Darkness.

Then, nothing.