Chapter 3

I didn't sleep. I sat in an armchair in my bedroom, the wedding dress pooled on the floor where I'd dropped it, a white ghost in the darkness. I watched the moon travel across the sky, my mind replaying the image of the woman and the boy, the name 'Sarah' echoing in the silence.

When I heard Daniel's footsteps in the hallway just before dawn, I stood up. My body felt numb, but my resolve was a hard, sharp thing inside my chest.

He opened the door, and for a moment, he looked surprised to see me awake and dressed in my regular clothes.

"Olivia? What are you doing up?"

"Who is Sarah?" I asked. My voice didn't tremble. It was flat, lifeless.

He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, crossing his arms. He didn't even try to look confused. A slow, cold smile touched his lips. It was the cruelest expression I had ever seen.

"So you saw the phone."

It wasn't a question.

"Who is she, Daniel?" I repeated, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.

"She was my fiancée," he said, his voice casual, as if he were discussing the weather. "The woman I was meant to marry ten years ago. Before she left me for another man."

My breath hitched. "And the boy?"

"Her son, I presume."

The casual cruelty of his words struck me like a physical blow. I stumbled back, catching myself on the edge of the chair. "And me? What am I?"

He pushed himself off the door and walked slowly toward me, circling me like a predator. "You, Olivia, were a remarkable stroke of luck. An orphan who looked so much like her. It was almost poetic."

My stomach churned. "Looked like her?"

"Yes," he said, stopping in front of me. He reached out and cupped my chin, forcing me to look at him. His eyes were cold, devoid of any warmth. "You were the perfect substitute. The perfect way to fill the space she left."

He let go of me, and I felt sick. My entire life with him, his care, his affection, the love I thought we shared-it was all based on a lie. I wasn't Olivia to him. I was a stand-in, a ghost of a woman he couldn't have.

"The wedding..." I whispered, the words choking me. "Our marriage..."

"Is a form of compensation," he finished, his voice sharp and final. "A way to correct the past. A way to have what was taken from me."

Before I could process the full horror of his confession, my laptop, sitting open on my desk, chimed with a new email notification. My eyes darted to the screen. The sender was anonymous. The subject line was one word: "Truth."

My fingers trembled as I clicked it open. It was short, brutal.

"Sarah Miller and her son, Kevin, are staying at the downtown Four Seasons. Daniel Hayes paid for the suite. He's been with her every night for the last two weeks. Don't be a fool."

The screen blurred as tears filled my eyes. It wasn't just a past obsession. It was a current reality. He was with her. While planning our wedding, while telling me he loved me, he was with her.

I looked up at him, the tears streaming down my face now. "You're a monster."

He just watched me, his expression unmoved. He saw my tears, my shattered heart, and he felt nothing.

"The wedding will go on as planned, Olivia," he said, his voice like ice. "You will walk down that aisle, and you will become my wife. You will not embarrass me. Do you understand?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He turned and left, closing the door behind him, leaving me in the ruins of the life I thought I had.

The next few days were a living nightmare. I moved through the house like an automaton, following the schedule of dress fittings, menu tastings, and final preparations. I smiled when I was supposed to smile. I spoke when I was spoken to.

But inside, I was screaming. The love I had for him curdled into something dark and bitter. The grief was a physical weight, pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

But beneath the grief and the pain, something else was taking root. A sliver of ice in my soul. A cold, hard resolve. He thought he could break me, use me, and discard my feelings like they were nothing.

He was wrong. He wanted me to be a good girl. He had no idea what I was becoming.