Chapter 1

Today was our tenth wedding anniversary.

Liam came home early, which was a rare sight. He held a beautifully wrapped box, but his face was cold, without a trace of warmth.

He placed the box on the coffee table in front of me.

"Happy anniversary, Ava."

His voice was flat, devoid of any emotion. I forced a smile and reached for the gift, my heart fluttering with a small, foolish hope.

Maybe he remembered. Maybe, after ten years, things could finally change.

I unwrapped the gift carefully. It wasn' t jewelry or a designer bag. It was a thick, leather-bound notebook. A playbook.

I opened it.

The first page had a woman' s name, a date, and a short, cold description of their encounter. I flipped to the next page. Another name, another date. And another, and another. It was a detailed log of his affairs, a catalog of his betrayals spanning years.

My hands trembled. The book felt heavy, each page a testament to my failed marriage.

"What is this?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

"It' s a list of everyone," Liam said, sitting on the sofa opposite me. He leaned back, acting casual, as if he were discussing a business matter. "I' m tired of it, Ava. I' m tired of the games, the sneaking around. I want a real life, with a real family."

He looked at me, his eyes sharp. "I need you to get rid of them for me. Call them, pay them off, do whatever it takes. Disperse my harem. Once they' re all gone, we can start over."

Shock, then a wave of deep, gut-wrenching humiliation washed over me. He wasn' t asking for my forgiveness. He was giving me a task. He wanted me, his wife, to clean up his mess.

But I was used to obeying. For ten years, I had done everything he asked, hoping to earn a sliver of affection. So, I nodded.

"Okay, Liam."

I spent the next week making phone calls. Each conversation was a new kind of torture. Some women cried. Some cursed me. Most just wanted money, which Liam had provided in a separate bank account for this very purpose.

I worked my way down the list, crossing off names one by one. Finally, only one name remained.

Chloe.

The name was familiar, but the contact information was for a private hospital on the other side of town. The notes next to her name were different, too. Not just a date, but a recurring entry. "Monthly visit."

I drove to the hospital, my stomach in knots. I found the room number and pushed the door open.

The woman sitting by the window turned.

My breath caught in my throat. It was like looking in a mirror. She had my face, my eyes, my hair.

It was my twin sister, Chloe. The same sister who was supposed to have died in a car crash ten years ago, right before my wedding.

She smiled, a slow, knowing smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Hello, sister. It' s been a long time."

The world tilted on its axis. Chloe was alive. All this time, she had been alive. And Liam... Liam knew. The "monthly visits" in his playbook weren' t just affairs. He had been seeing my supposedly dead sister for our entire marriage.

The realization hit me like a physical blow. Liam didn' t want to "start over" with me. He wanted to get rid of his other women so he could bring Chloe home. He wanted to get rid of me.

I stumbled out of the hospital room, my mind reeling. The ten years of my marriage, the constant shame of being the "replacement bride," the guilt I carried for marrying my dead sister' s fiancé-it had all been a lie. A cruel, elaborate lie.

When I got home, Liam was waiting for me. He was watching TV, but his eyes followed my every move.

"Did you take care of the last one?" he asked, his tone casual.

I forced myself to stay calm, to hide the storm raging inside me. He was probing, testing me to see if I knew.

"Yes," I said, my voice steady. "It' s all done."

"Good." He nodded, satisfied. "Now we can finally be a real family."

He got up and walked toward the bedroom, leaving his jacket slung over the back of the chair. My eyes were drawn to it. An instinct I couldn' t explain made me walk over and reach into the pocket.

My fingers closed around a small, folded piece of paper.

I pulled it out. It was a sonogram.

In the corner, written in neat, familiar handwriting, were two initials: L & C. Liam and Chloe.

And beneath the grainy image of a tiny, developing life, a date from two weeks ago.

Chloe was pregnant.

A cold, hollow pain spread through my chest. I clutched my own stomach, a bitter laugh threatening to escape my lips.

I was pregnant, too.

I had found out a month ago. I hadn't told Liam. I never dared to. I knew exactly what he would do. He would have forced me to get an abortion, just like he had twice before. He had always made it clear that I, the replacement, was not worthy of carrying his child.

My marriage wasn't a marriage. It was a ten-year prison sentence. And I had been serving it obediently while he lived a double life with my sister.

The rage finally boiled over. I couldn' t pretend anymore. I walked into the bedroom, the sonogram crumpled in my fist.

"I saw her, Liam," I said, my voice shaking with fury. "I saw Chloe."

His face went rigid. The charming facade dropped, replaced by a cold, menacing glare. "What are you talking about?"

"Don' t lie to me!" I screamed, throwing the sonogram at him. "She' s alive! And she' s pregnant with your child!"

He didn' t even glance at the paper. He lunged at me, his hands closing around my throat.

"You shouldn' t have gone there," he snarled, his grip tightening. His face was twisted with a rage I had never seen before. "You always have to ruin everything."

I clawed at his hands, struggling for air. Black spots danced in front of my eyes.

"She was supposed to be mine from the start," he hissed, his voice a venomous whisper in my ear. "You were just the stand-in. A pathetic replacement."

He shoved me away, and I stumbled backward, gasping for breath, my back hitting the wall hard.

He straightened his shirt, his expression cold and unfeeling. "Chloe' s coming home. She' s pregnant. She' s going to have my child, the heir to my company."

My hand went to my own belly, a desperate, protective gesture. I opened my mouth to tell him, to scream that I was pregnant too, that he was about to become a father twice over.

But he didn' t give me the chance.

"Pack your things," he said, his voice like ice. "You can move into the guest room."

He turned and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with the shattered pieces of my life.

I slid down the wall, my body shaking uncontrollably. I knew I had to leave. I couldn't stay here, not another minute.

I scrambled to my feet and started pulling a suitcase from the top of the closet. I threw clothes in haphazardly, my hands clumsy with fear and despair.

Suddenly, the bedroom door flew open. Liam stood there, his face a mask of fury.

"What do you think you' re doing?"

Before I could answer, he crossed the room in two strides and grabbed the suitcase, flinging it across the room. Clothes scattered everywhere.

"You' re not going anywhere," he said, his voice dangerously low.

Just then, a soft voice came from the doorway.

"Liam? What' s wrong? Is Ava okay?"

Chloe stood there, leaning against the doorframe. She looked pale and fragile, her hand resting delicately on her own small, barely-there baby bump. She looked at me with wide, concerned eyes, the picture of innocence.

Liam' s entire demeanor changed. He rushed to her side, his voice full of worry. "Chloe, you shouldn' t be standing. Did she upset you? Did she say something to you?"

The accusation was clear. In his eyes, I was the aggressor. Chloe was the victim.

And I was the one who was trapped.