Chapter 1

I spent three years standing in for the woman Rex Delgado couldn't get over.

I wore the white dresses she liked and grew my hair long the way she wore hers.

Even at meals with his mother, I had to stay nailed to the seat that had once been hers.

I knew he didn't love me. I signed that contract anyway, the one that bought away my dignity.

Then Seraphina Whitmore came back alive, and Rex drove out that same night to bring her home.

The next day, the two of us were tied up and dragged into an abandoned nursing home.

When the knife came down, I still threw myself in front of him like a fool.

The first thing I did when I woke was beg the police to put me in witness protection.

And that was how Gwendolen Swanson died in that kidnapping.

Two years later, I came back to the country as Anna Sutton and took my seat on the investigation panel at the Delgado hearing.

Across a room packed with reporters, Rex stared at me, not daring to say the name they'd buried.

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The night Seraphina came back, I was washing Jill Mason's hair.

Jill was Rex's mother.

Six years ago, a fire on a cruise ship damaged her brain, and her memory rolled back to the year she turned forty.

That was the year Seraphina Whitmore was her favorite future daughter-in-law.

And I happened to have a face half like Seraphina's.

Jill wouldn't take her medicine, wouldn't let the caregivers near her. The only thing that ever settled her was the sight of me.

Three years ago, Rex chose me.

Not only for the face, but because I had caregiver credentials.

He handed me the contract.

"All you have to do is play Seraphina in front of her. What you do with your own life, I won't interfere."

I read to the pay line and pushed it back.

"I don't want money."

Rex looked up.

I met his eyes and laid out what I'd been hiding for two years.

"I want to stay by your side."

He was quiet a long time, then printed a new contract.

Term of care: three years.

Apart from Jill's treatment, I'd keep my own name and wouldn't have to imitate Seraphina.

The last clause he added himself, by hand.

Neither party may use this contract to demand or imply any emotional return.

I signed.

Outside the contract, there was something between us neither of us would name.

He let me sleep in the master bedroom, held me hard in the middle of the night, and answered when I kissed him first.

But once it was light, he wouldn't touch me again.

Once I tested whether we counted as lovers.

He only reminded me not to forget the last clause of the contract.

I was the one who couldn't let go.

I knew intimacy in bed wasn't the same as love, and still I told myself that if I just held on a little longer, he'd finally separate me from Seraphina.

Back then I was naive enough to think three years was long enough to warm a stone.

Only later did I understand that Rex wasn't heartless.

He'd only locked his heart away, and the key was engraved with another woman's name.

When the footsteps sounded outside the bathroom door, Jill had just dabbed a bit of foam onto the tip of my nose.

She was laughing like a child.

"Seraphina, once you marry in, if Rex ever dares mistreat you, I'll throw him out."

The door opened.

Rex stood outside, rain on his collar, a tall thin woman behind him.

Her face was pale, a faint scar at the tail of her left brow.

That face in the photographs. I'd seen it far too many times.

Jill's bedroom, Rex's study, the old files at the care center, she was everywhere.

Seraphina Whitmore.

The woman missing six years had come back.

Rex's eyes landed on my face and stayed there only a heartbeat.

"Gwendolen, come out."

It was the first time he'd said my name all night.

And the last.

Jill gripped my hand, watching Seraphina warily.

"Who is she?"

Seraphina's eyes reddened.

Rex crossed to her and crouched in front of Jill.

"Mom, this is Seraphina."

Jill looked at her, then at me, and suddenly hurled the shampoo bottle.

"Liar! My Seraphina is right here!"

The bottle grazed Seraphina's shoulder and hit the floor.

Rex was on his feet at once, shielding her.

Not a moment's hesitation.

My hair was still wet, water running down my neck, and I was shivering with the cold.