Chapter 1

My daughter wished another woman were her mother.

My husband looked at my bleeding hand and worried about the birthday cake.

I had spent three days preparing Emma's seventh birthday.

When I walked into the living room, Ivy Sinclair was already there.

She stood beside my husband, Julian, wearing the pearl necklace he had given me on our last anniversary.

She smiled when she saw me.

"Elena, you've worked so hard. Julian asked me to help."

Before I could answer, one of Julian's aunts laughed.

"Ivy looks more like the hostess than the wife."

No one corrected her.

Not even Julian.

Then Emma came running downstairs.

For one impossible second, I thought she was coming to me.

She ran straight into Ivy's arms.

"Aunt Ivy!"

Ivy kissed the top of her head.

"Our birthday girl."

Emma beamed.

"I wish you were my mommy."

The room fell silent.

Someone chuckled awkwardly.

Children say silly things.

I looked at my daughter.

"Why?"

She tilted her head.

"You dance."

"You wear pretty dresses."

"My mommy only cooks."

Seven years ago, I had stood beneath stage lights.

Now my own daughter couldn't remember I had ever been a dancer.

Julian frowned.

"Don't make today awkward."

Awkward.

That was what he called seven years of my life.

I turned toward the cake.

My dress caught the serving cart.

The cart lurched.

I reached out instinctively.

My palm slammed onto a shattered plate.

Pain exploded through my hand.

Blood poured between my fingers.

"Mommy!"

Emma screamed.

Julian finally looked at me.

Hope rose before I could stop it.

Maybe...

Maybe he still cared.

His eyes dropped to the cake.

"If your hand isn't serious, clean this up."

"Don't get blood on the cake."

"That's the design Ivy chose."

I stared at him.

Three days.

Forty-eight dishes.

Hours decorating that cake.

But because Ivy had pointed at a picture online...

It had somehow become hers.

Ivy hurried toward me.

"Julian, don't be like that."

She reached for my arm.

Emma pulled her back immediately.

"Aunt Ivy!"

"You'll get blood on your dress."

Something inside me cracked.

Then another voice echoed through my head.

"Lock the door."

"Don't let her come out."

"She'll ruin the wedding."

Darkness swallowed everything.

...

When I opened my eyes, I wasn't in my living room.

I was trapped inside a dark storage room.

No water.

No food.

My fists were raw from pounding on the door.

Outside, music played.

Julian had forced the divorce through only days earlier.

Then he locked me away while he married Ivy in front of everyone we knew.

I heard Julian laughing.

I heard guests cheering.

Then Emma's voice.

"Daddy and Mommy are getting married today."

"Don't let her come out."

The mommy she meant...

Was Ivy.

I died behind that door.

Alone.

...

Pain shot through my palm.

I opened my eyes again.

Broken glass.

Birthday cake.

Blood.

Emma.

Ivy.

Julian.

Exactly the same.

I was back.

Back to Emma's seventh birthday.

Back before they stole my life.

Julian frowned.

"If you're fine, clean this up."

"Don't get blood everywhere."

The same words.

This time...

I smiled.

I pulled off my wedding ring.

Dropped it into his wine glass.

The sound silenced the room.

"I want a divorce."

Julian froze.

Emma burst into tears.

I didn't stop.

I walked upstairs.

Opened the dusty box at the back of my closet.

Inside lay the ballet shoes I hadn't touched in seven years.

I picked them up.

Then I dialed the only number I wanted to call.

It rang once.

"Elena?"

My father's voice.

I closed my eyes.

"Dad."

"I'm coming home."