Chapter 3

The recording burned a hole in my pocket as I drove home, my mind a maelstrom of horror and betrayal.

Ethan wasn't there yet. The house, once a symbol of our love, now felt like a gilded cage, a stage for his monstrous deception.

I went straight to his study, a room I rarely entered.

His computer password, I tried my birthday. It clicked open.

My heart pounded. How many other "sentimental" gestures were calculated manipulations?

A folder named "My North Star" sat on his desktop.

I clicked it. Thousands of photos of Chloe, meticulously organized by year, by event, by outfit.

Chloe laughing, Chloe pensive, Chloe on vacation, Chloe at society events.

Years and years of her life, documented with an obsessive devotion.

Then I found the comparison files. My physical attributes listed next to Chloe's, checkmarks beside similarities.

Notes on how to "guide" my style to mirror hers.

The "custom-designed" clothes he' d bought me, the ones he said were unique, were near-exact replicas of outfits Chloe had worn in older photos. I was a stand-in, a pale imitation.

A recent chat log with Chloe horrified me further.

"Our baby's death is insignificant, Sarah will get over it," Ethan had typed. "What matters is that your son, Leo, will have a secure future with me, with us. He won't face the stigma he did with his father."

Chloe had a child. A child Ethan was planning to raise.

He then wrote, "Getting Sarah pregnant was part of it, a trial run, almost like surrogacy, to see if I could commit to fatherhood, for your sake, for Leo."

I felt a wave of nausea so profound I had to grip the desk.

My baby, a test. My body, a vessel for his twisted devotion to another woman.

He had orchestrated my parents' downfall, not just to protect Chloe from a malpractice suit, but to isolate me, to make me vulnerable, to make me his.

The depth of his cruelty, his meticulous planning, was beyond anything I could have imagined.

He had destroyed my entire world, my past, my present, my future, all for her.