Chapter 1

On the day the party hall went up in flames, my fiancé, Cedric Flynn, raced through the fire to pull me out.

But his little sister, Eloise Flynn, never made it out of the inferno.

We married anyway, as planned, but Cedric's affection turned into hatred.

My face was scarred in the fire. He refused to let me seek treatment. To make things worse, he kept a girl who looked exactly like the old me by his side.

Every year on the anniversary of Eloise's death, Cedric would shove me down in front of her memorial, his voice filled with venom.

"This is your penance, Carmen. You will spend the rest of your life paying for what happened to Eloise," said Cedric.

But not long after I died, Eloise came back.

*****

Cedric was truly in love with Denise Gilmore.

I could tell just by watching them through the glass wall.

I never thought coming to the photo studio for my own funeral portrait would mean running into my husband and his mistress doing a couple's photoshoot.

He was wearing the matching pink outfits he used to hate, his eyes full of love as he looked at Denise.

Denise playfully tugged his ear, her face, so much like mine, lit up with a brilliant smile.

The photographer clicked, capturing the perfect moment.

I burned that scene into my memory, searing it into my heart.

Other customers couldn't help but murmur, "What a good-looking couple. Easy on the eyes."

The receptionist waved me over for makeup.

When I took off my mask, the makeup artist gasped and knocked over her water cup.

Realizing what happened, she fumbled for tissues, apologizing over and over. "I'm sorry, so sorry..."

I shook my head gently. "It's okay. I didn't mean to scare you."

I knew I looked terrible now.

The lower half of my face was covered in rough, uneven scars, raw pink flesh mixed with patches of burned, blackened skin, crisscrossed like charred wood.

If I couldn't be pretty in life, at least I could have a nice funeral photo and keep a little dignity after I was gone.

The shoot itself went fine, but we hit a problem during retouching.

"Miss... your face... I honestly don't know how to edit this," the retoucher said, completely stuck.

I was about to say I'd edit it at home when Denise cut in. "Carmen, so it is you."

She leaned in, glanced at the photo on the screen, and almost laughed out loud.

She scoffed, "Oh my god! That's gross. Just blur it out. What's the point of even editing?

"The moment you took that mask off, everyone who saw you today will have nightmares."

I ignored Denise and quietly asked the retoucher to send me the photos.

But Denise kept going. "Ugly people really love causing trouble. Don't you know your place? Copying me with a photoshoot? How pathetic."

I copied her?

I stared at Denise, the woman who had ruined my wedding to Cedric three years before. Her makeup made her look exactly like me.

She claimed to be Eloise's friend, there to stand in for Eloise who had died. She cried so hard that she fainted at the ceremony.

From that moment, Denise was all Cedric saw.

By now, she wasn't just his way of getting back at me.

Out of my sight, Cedric was there for her. He doted on her.

I smiled, pinched her chin, and leaned in to whisper in her ear, "You've been wearing my face so long. Do you think it's yours now?

"It must've been hard, changing yourself to look like me. Guess you really love being a copy."

Denise's face darkened instantly. She gritted her teeth, furious I'd hit a nerve.

She snapped, "Copy or not, does it matter? Your face has been ruined for three years. Soon, no one will remember what you really looked like."

Out of the corner of her eye, Denise saw Cedric finish his call and walk over. A sly grin curled on her lips. She grabbed my hand and pulled me close.

She whispered, "Open your eyes, Carmen. See who Cedric loves now. So tell me. Do you think he'll defend his childhood sweetheart, or me, the sweet, sensible copy?"

Then she suddenly squealed, "Carmen, what are you doing?" Then she theatrically fell to the floor.

I was still weak from the shots I got days ago. When she yanked me, my knee hit the tile with a heavy thud.

It felt like my bone split open. I winced, hissing in pain.

As I tried to grab the table leg to stand, Cedric just shoved me away, not caring at all.

He didn't hold back. I crashed into the coffee table. The sharp edge tore a long gash, at least four inches, into my left leg. Skin split, flesh exposed, blood gushing.

The pain was so intense that I broke into a cold sweat. I couldn't even stand and stumbled into a chair.