ole of my husband in three weeks, surveyed me with possessive eyes. Everything was perfect, almost too
a smiling woman and a small boy grinning at the camera, with a message: "Kev a
nient look-alike to fill the void she left. His affection, his care, our shared love-all a calculated lie. Th
moved, his voice like ice: "The wedding will go on as planned, Olivia. You will
us, didn't defend me. He paraded me before the woman he truly desired. It wasn't just betrayal; it was torture.
end them away." He thought he still had me, the forgiving, wounded woman. But the girl who loved him had died in t