Chapter 2

Grace POV:

The next morning, Caleb was the perfect husband. He brought me coffee in bed, his thumb stroking my cheek with a tenderness that now felt like a violation.

"You seem better today," he said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

"Just needed some rest," I lied, forcing a weak smile back.

"I have to go out for a bit this morning," he said, avoiding my gaze as he straightened his tie. "It's the anniversary of... you know. Paige. I just need to visit the cemetery. Alone."

The lie was so bald, so effortless, it stole the air from my lungs. He was using the memory of the woman he was protecting as an excuse to go see her.

"Of course," I said, my voice eerily calm. "You go. Take all the time you need."

My easy agreement seemed to soothe him. He leaned down and tried to kiss me, but I turned my head at the last second so his lips brushed my cheek. A jolt of revulsion went through me, so strong I had to dig my nails into my thigh beneath the covers to keep from flinching away. The small, sharp pain was a welcome distraction.

He left, and the moment the front door clicked shut, I was out of bed. I knew I needed more than just a memory. I needed concrete proof. His study was my first stop.

His laptop was on the desk, closed. My heart pounded as I opened it. It powered on, and the screen lit up with the login page. The background image was a picture of a sunset over the ocean. A picture I had taken on our honeymoon. A memory now tainted, rotten from the inside out.

He had always been careless with passwords. I tried his birthday. No luck. Our anniversary. Denied. Then, a cold thought slithered into my mind. The little boy. Dylan. When was his birthday? Paige had "died" five years ago. The boy looked about four.

I tried a few more dates-his mother's birthday, the company's founding date-all denied. My frustration grew. As I was about to give up, my eyes caught a small, yellowed sticky note tucked under the corner of his desk blotter. It was almost hidden. On it, in Caleb's familiar scrawl, were two words: `D-Day: 0828`.

D-Day? A military code? It made no sense. Then it hit me. D... for Dylan. August 28th. I remembered something Paige had screamed at me during a fight years ago: "August 28th is the most important day in the world! You wouldn't understand!" I'd dismissed it as drama. Now...

I typed in the numbers. 0828.

Access granted.

The desktop wallpaper that appeared made my stomach clench into a tight, painful knot. It was them. Caleb, Paige, and little Dylan, sitting in front of a birthday cake with four candles. They looked like the perfect family. Happy. Real.

My hands trembling, I navigated to his files. There were folders hidden within folders, a digital labyrinth of his secret life. I found everything.

Photos. Hundreds of them. Dylan's first steps. Their first Christmas as a family. A vacation to a beach I didn't recognize. Caleb was in every photo, beaming with a kind of unguarded joy I hadn't seen in years.

Then I found the bank statements. A monthly transfer from a joint account. A joint account held by Caleb and... my father. My mother's name was on transactions for lavish gifts sent to a P.O. box near the farm. Toys. Designer children's clothes. A trust fund set up for Dylan Miller.

They hadn't just hidden Paige. They had funded her. They had embraced her child as their own. Their true grandchild.

I felt a hollow ache in my chest, a void where my heart used to be. Every loving word my parents had ever said to me, every gesture of affection, replayed in my mind, now twisted into a cruel mockery.

I remembered Caleb's vows at our wedding. "I promise to build our life on a foundation of honesty and trust." The words echoed in the silent room, a bitter, ironic ghost. He hadn't been making that promise to me. He had been making it to her, to them.

A wave of dizziness washed over me, and I stumbled back from the desk, knocking a stack of papers to the floor. I had to get out. I couldn't breathe in this house, surrounded by the ghosts of a life that was never real.

As I turned to leave, a notification popped up on the laptop screen. A new message. The screen was still open, a window into their world.

It was from Paige.

`Can't wait for you to get here. Dylan misses his daddy. Hurry back to your real family.`

The words were a direct, deliberate stab. She knew. She had to know he was with me. It was a taunt. A final, crushing display of her victory.

My phone rang, and Caleb's smiling face filled the screen. I stared at it, my vision swimming.

"Hey, honey," his voice was cheerful, disgustingly normal. "Just leaving the 'cemetery' now. The traffic is crazy. I'll be home soon. I love you."

I hung up without a word. The passive discovery was over. Now, I needed a plan. I would not be the victim in their story. I would not be erased.

I grabbed my keys, my mind a storm of cold, calculated rage. I had to go back to that farm. I had to see it all, one last time.

And this time, I would get the proof that would burn their world to the ground.