Chapter 1

Everyone around me thought I was crazy about Samuel Quinn. To marry him, I agreed to let Maggie Chandler, the girl he never got over, live with us in our house.

His face was the only reason I stayed. It was a dead ringer for the guy I really love.

But then, I ran into someone who looked even more like my love. I didn't think twice and left with him.

For the first time, Samuel completely lost it, his eyes blazing with fury. "Catherine, try taking one step with him. I dare you!"

But he couldn't hold me back anymore.

*****

Samuel took his beloved Maggie upstairs to the bedroom.

I lay down on the living room sofa and dozed off.

I was drifting into a light sleep when someone yanked me upright. Sharp pain shot through my arm and I snapped awake with a gasp.

As I stumbled, Samuel's furious voice exploded. "Catherine, why don't you open the door?"

Outside, Mary Quinn, his mother, was pounding on the front entrance and shouting, "Open up!"

The housekeeper stood inside, looking panicked and uneasy.

Samuel looked like he was about to lose it. His black shirt was buttoned wrong and totally lopsided. He glared at me, his eyes stormy, like I'd made a big mistake.

He was so furious that he barely looked like the man I loved. I couldn't help but reach out, wanting to smooth out the crease in his brow. "I'm sorry. I should've heard her sooner."

He shoved my hand away with a look of disdain and then pinned me down on the sofa.

The scent of Maggie's perfume hung off him, clashing horribly with his familiar face. It stung. I wanted to push him away.

But he held my arm down, his patience wearing thin. "Catherine, if you don't want this, then get lost." After three years of playing the pathetic lapdog for him, I clearly wasn't worth a shred of respect.

And sure enough, the second he spat out those words, I shut my mouth.

The housekeeper opened the door.

Mary stormed in, and then left awkwardly.

Only then did the bedroom door open. Maggie stepped out, looking uneasy.

She caught Samuel mid-move, pulling away from me. Her face went pale, clearly stung by the scene.

Of course Samuel felt bad for her. To prove himself, he ripped his shirt off, tossed it in the trash, and grabbed a wet wipe, scrubbing his fingers that had touched my skin.

Samuel glanced at Maggie, guilt written all over his face. But when he looked at me, his eyes were colder with disgust.

He was the one who scouted me to be Maggie's stand-in. Now that the real Maggie was back, he thought I was the one who tainted their love.

I didn't care about any of it. Nothing else mattered to me, as long as I could see that face.

Since he'd taken off his shirt, I worried he'd catch a cold. I turned to the housekeeper. "Could you grab Sam a shirt, please?"

Samuel froze mid-wipe, staring at me like I was some kind of freak. "Catherine, would it kill you to stop groveling for one day?"

I looked down and kept quiet. I wasn't sure about that. But I knew one thing: if I hadn't stumbled across that face three years ago, I wouldn't have lasted this long.

People loved to lose themselves in their own illusions. In those dreams, everything felt right, and the deeper I sank, the less I wanted to wake up.

Samuel left with Maggie, heading somewhere else to talk. The roar of his sports car outside was like a scream of his anger and frustration.

I rubbed my sore legs and drifted back to my bedroom like a ghost.

I left the lights off. Pale moonlight bled through the curtains, casting shadows across the floor. I made my way to the bed and sat down.

I pulled open the nightstand drawer. Hidden at the bottom was a photo, stained with dried blood, the man's features barely visible in the dim light.

Three years later, and I still couldn't bring myself to turn on the lamp. I was terrified that if I saw his face too clearly, the dream would shatter. And I'd have to accept that Samuel wasn't him.

No one in this world could ever be him.