Chapter 1

The day I walked out of prison, the sky was a bleak gray, like a soggy, filthy rag tossed aside.

Five years locked up had stripped away all my rough edges, leaving me with nothing but lifeless eyes. I didn't contact anyone. I boarded the bus heading back downtown.

Outside the window, skyscrapers rose up, neon lights weaving together. The city I'd left behind for five years now felt like a completely foreign place.

The bus finally pulled up at the city center square.

Out of habit, I glanced up. And right in front of me, there was my own "funeral."

On the biggest LED screen in the square, a public service ad was playing. In the center of the screen was my college ID photo, black and white, with a gentle, harmless smile. Below the photo, in bold gold letters, read, "Isabelle Shaw Memorial Foundation."

A handsome man in a suit was speaking to the camera, his voice soft but weighted with grief. "My wife, Isabelle, was the light of my life. Five years ago, an accident took her from me, but her love and kindness will live on forever through this foundation..."

Beside him, a woman in a white dress was gently dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. She was slender, her slightly rounded belly radiating a maternal glow. She looked up, her face looked so much like mine. It was etched with sadness and determination.

It was Keaton Hoover, my boyfriend. And Rebecca Shaw, my own sister.

In that moment, my breath was stolen away. It felt like an invisible hand had clamped down on my heart, wringing out every ounce of anguish.

Five years ago, Keaton got behind the wheel drunk and ended up killing someone in a crash. He dropped to his knees, sobbing, begging me to take the fall so his future wouldn't be ruined.

He said, "Isabelle, you're the only woman I've ever wanted to marry. Just wait for me. Three years, tops. I'll make sure you walk out with your head held high."

I believed him. I loved him enough to risk everything for him.

So I took the fall and confessed to everything in court. They gave me five years.

*****

Five years. One thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days. Locked behind those cold iron bars, I survived on nothing but memories of Keaton and the promise he made.

Day after day, I forced myself to keep going. I couldn't even bring myself to tell my parents the truth. I claimed I was studying abroad and cut off all contact. I was too scared to let them know what really happened.

Now, I was finally out. But it felt like I'd already been erased from existence.

Keaton never waited for me. He reinvented himself as a star entrepreneur with a tragic love story. Instead of picking me up, he gave me a funeral so grand and public.

He used my "death" as a stepping stone, cashing in on both fame and fortune. And my sister, flaunting the happiness that should've been mine, became his gentle fiancée. She was even pregnant with his child.

They made me the tragic leading lady in their fairy-tale romance, idolized and pitied by everyone.

The bus's arrival chime blared, sharp and grating. I stepped off like a puppet. The square was crowded, but nobody noticed me, the pale woman in cheap clothes. They were all caught up in the tragic love story on the screen, moved by the tale of my death.

I stood among the crowd, gazing up at my own black-and-white photo, at Keaton and Rebecca's phony, hypocritical faces. A cold, metallic hatred began to spread from the depths of my soul, inch by inch.

I didn't cry. My tears had dried up during my first year in prison.

I just smiled. Silently, my lips pulled into a stiff, forced smile.

Keaton. Rebecca. You turned me into nothing but a ghost. What did you think a ghost that crawled back from hell would do?'

I pulled the brim of my faded baseball cap down low and melted into the crowd. First things first, I needed to survive. In this world where I was already "dead," I had to find a place to hide, just like a real ghost.

I walked into a temp agency, used a fake identity, and got myself a job as a night cleaner at Maple Technology, the headquarters of Keaton's company.

Yeah, I was going to get close to him again.

But not in any way he'd ever expect. I'd slip right under his nose, get a front-row seat to the castle he built out of my pain, and then, with my own hands, tear it all down.

Maple Technology's headquarters was the city's newest landmark, the glass walls glinting coldly in the night. Keaton loved lording over the city from above. He used to tell me he'd stand at the top someday.

Now, he'd made it. All thanks to my five years of freedom, and the story of my death.

My shift ran from ten at night until six in the morning. By day, this building belonged to Keaton and his elite team. But at night, it was ours, the silent, unnoticed cleaners.