Chapter 2

"Anthony, what the hell is wrong with you?"

I stared at the face I had loved for seven years. It felt completely unrecognizable. My blood ran ice-cold.

His eyes were dead. No guilt. No nervous laughter of a prankster caught in the act.

He was looking at me like I was a delusional stranger causing a scene in his house.

"Olivia, my patience has limits," Anthony said. He pulled his sleeve out of my grip and casually ironed out the wrinkles with his hand.

He turned, took the warm tea from Olivia’s hands, blew on it gently, and held it to her lips.

Olivia took a sip, looking up at him with a shy, blushing smile.

That was my gesture. The exact angle of her head, the curve of her lips—it was a carbon copy of me.

My stomach churned. I bolted toward the console cabinet in the corner of the living room.

"You want to play this game? Fine! Let’s look at the paperwork!" I slammed the drawer open.

"Our marriage certificate is right here. It has my name on it. Georgina Williams!"

My fingers brushed against the familiar leather folder. I grabbed it and whipped it around, holding it high in the air.

Beatrice let out a harsh laugh, rolling her eyes so hard I thought they’d get stuck.

"This girl is gold-digging mad. Rummaging through our house, pretending she's the lady of the manor. Pathetic."

I ignored her. My hands shook as I flipped open our wedding album clipped to the certificate.

The moment my eyes hit the page, my knees buckled. I collapsed onto the hardwood floor.

In the photo, Anthony was smiling warmly in his black tuxedo.

But the woman leaning against his shoulder, glowing in her white wedding gown, was Olivia.

And printed clearly in elegant cursive on the certificate below was: Georgina Williams.

"No... this is impossible," I whispered, rubbing my eyes until they burned.

This couldn't be real.

Just yesterday, Anthony and I were on FaceTime. He was whining about how he couldn't sleep without me in our bed.

How could my identity, my husband, and my daughter be stolen overnight?

I snapped my head up, glaring at Olivia.

"What did you do? You are Olivia Bennett!"

"I hired you six months ago to tutor Lily in French!"

Olivia shrank back, hiding behind Anthony’s broad shoulders.

"Anthony... is Olivia okay? Has the stress from college finally broken her mind?" her voice trembled, her eyes instantly filling with tears.

Anthony wrapped his arms around her. "Don't worry, baby. I've got you."

Then, he turned to me. His eyes were pure steel.

"Olivia, you stole my wife’s clothes, forged documents, and now you’re threatening her in our own home."

Anthony pulled out his iPhone, his thumb sliding across the screen.

"I tried to give you some dignity because you were good to Lily. But since you want to act crazy, I’m calling the police."

The police? He was going to arrest me for trespassing in my own home?

The sheer absurdity of it drove me mad. I scrambled across the floor, lunging toward Lily on the sofa.

"Lily! Look at me! Look at Mommy's eyes!"

"I'm your mommy! I'm the one who reads you bedtime stories every single night! Have you forgotten?"

I reached out to hold her.

But Lily shrieked as if she were looking at a literal monster. She kicked her legs, dodging my hands.

"Go away! You're not my mommy! You're a bad woman!"

She was only five. The terror and disgust in her eyes were real. She couldn't fake that.

She ran to Olivia, burying her face in Olivia's silk pajamas, sobbing loudly.

"Mommy, I'm scared! Make the bad lady leave!"

Olivia scooped Lily into her arms, crying tears of motherly devotion.

"Shh, baby. Mommy's here. I'll protect you."

Watching them, my heart shattered into a million jagged pieces.

Beatrice marched over, grabbed me by my collar, and dragged me toward the front door.

"Get out! Do we need to wait for the cops to throw you in a cell?"

"What did our family do to deserve a psycho stalker like you?"

I thrashed wildly. "Let go of me! I bought this house! This is my home!"

Anthony walked over. One by one, he pried my bleeding fingers off the doorframe.

His grip was gentle, almost polite. But his words were poisoned daggers plunged straight into my chest.

"Olivia, here is your final paycheck for the month."

"If you ever step foot on this property again, or harass my wife, I will make sure you never find a job in this city again."

A thick stack of hundred-dollar bills slammed into my face, scattering across the wet concrete.

The heavy oak door slammed shut in my face. The warm lights and happy laughter of my family were locked away.

I sat on the freezing stone steps, shivering violently.

This wasn't a prank.

This was a calculated, cold-blooded conspiracy to erase me from existence.