Chapter 3: The Woman Wearing My Wedding Ring Knew Everything
Chapter 3: The Woman Wearing My Wedding Ring Knew Everything
“Finally. I’ve been waiting six years to meet you.”
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
I stared at her from the middle of the hallway, unable to move.
She had my face.
Not similar.
Not close.
My face.
The same dark eyes. The same small scar near my left eyebrow. The same slightly crooked smile that appeared whenever I was nervous.
Even the tiny beauty mark beneath her right ear was there.
For one terrifying second, I wondered if I was looking at myself.
Then I looked down.
Her left hand rested casually against the elevator door.
My wedding ring glittered on her finger.
The ring Daniel had placed on my hand six years ago.
The ring I had never taken off.
My throat tightened.
“How?”
The word barely escaped my mouth.
The woman smiled.
“That’s exactly what I hoped you’d ask.”
Ryan stepped between us.
“Claire, stay behind me.”
She laughed softly.
“You really are protective, Ryan.”
He froze.
“How do you know my name?”
Her eyes moved toward him.
“Because Daniel talks about you more than you realize.”
Ryan’s expression hardened.
“Who are you?”
She ignored him.
Instead, she looked directly at me.
“You’re probably wondering whether I’m some kind of twin.”
I couldn’t answer.
“My mother never mentioned having another daughter,” I whispered.
“I know.”
The woman’s smile disappeared.
“Because you’re not my sister.”
The hallway seemed to tilt beneath my feet.
Ryan glanced at me.
“Claire, don’t listen to anything she says until we verify it.”
The woman slowly stepped out of the elevator.
“I wouldn’t trust him either.”
“Why?” I demanded.
“Because he isn’t telling you everything.”
Ryan’s jaw tightened.
“I told you exactly what Daniel hired me to investigate.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“You told her what Daniel wanted you to find.”
Silence.
I turned toward Ryan.
“What does that mean?”
Ryan didn’t answer immediately.
That hesitation frightened me more than anything she had said.
The woman walked closer.
“You want proof?”
She reached into her purse and pulled out a small envelope.
Then she handed it to me.
I didn’t take it.
“What’s inside?”
“Your beginning.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Everything Daniel told you about how you met him.”
My heart started pounding.
Six years ago, Daniel and I had met at a charity event in Chicago.
At least, that was the story I knew.
He had spilled wine on my dress.
He apologized.
We talked.
He asked for my number.
Three months later, he proposed.
Six months after that, we were married.
It had always seemed romantic.
Simple.
Perfect.
Until now.
The woman held out the envelope again.
“Open it.”
Ryan caught my arm.
“Don’t.”
She smiled.
“See? That’s what he wants.”
I pulled my arm away from Ryan.
“I need to know.”
I took the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
I stared at it.
It showed Daniel standing beside a woman.
My face.
My body.
My hair.
Everything.
But she wasn’t me.
On the back, someone had written a date.
Six years before Daniel and I supposedly met.
I looked at the woman standing in front of me.
“That’s you.”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
My fingers trembled.
“Then why does this photo exist?”
“Because Daniel met me before he met you.”
Ryan suddenly spoke.
“That’s impossible.”
She turned toward him.
“Is it?”
She reached into her purse again.
This time, she pulled out an old newspaper clipping.
She handed it to me.
The headline was partially torn away, but the date remained.
Six years earlier.
Below it was a photograph of a crowded charity event.
Daniel was there.
And standing beside him was the woman in front of me.
My stomach dropped.
I looked at Ryan.
“Daniel knew her.”
“Yes,” she said.
“He didn’t just know me.”
She looked down at my wedding ring on her finger.
“He married me.”
The words struck like a physical blow.
“No.”
She nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
I shook my head.
“That’s not possible. I married Daniel.”
“You did.”
“Then who are you?”
Her eyes softened.
“For six years, I have been asking myself the same question.”
She stepped closer.
“My name is Anna.”
The name meant nothing to me.
But Ryan suddenly looked pale.
“You’re Anna?”
She turned to him.
“So you’ve heard of me.”
“I thought you were dead.”
A strange silence filled the hallway.
I looked between them.
“What does that mean?”
Ryan swallowed.
“Three years ago, Daniel told me his wife had died.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“He said Anna died in an accident.”
Anna smiled bitterly.
“He told everyone that.”
“Everyone except you?” I whispered.
“Apparently.”
I couldn’t breathe.
Ryan looked at Anna.
“Where were you?”
“Hospital.”
“For how long?”
“Four months.”
“What happened?”
She looked at me.
“Someone tried to kill me.”
My skin prickled.
“Who?”
Anna’s expression changed.
“That’s the part Daniel never told you.”
She reached into her purse and removed another photograph.
This one was taken in a hospital room.
Anna lay unconscious in a bed.
And sitting beside her was Daniel.
I stared at the image.
He was holding her hand.
But what terrified me wasn’t Daniel.
It was the date.
The photograph had been taken four months after my wedding.
Four months after Daniel and I had supposedly begun our perfect married life.
I felt sick.
“Why would he marry me if you were already his wife?”
Anna’s eyes filled with something that looked like exhaustion.
“He didn’t marry you.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“He married the woman he believed was me.”
My heart stopped.
Ryan whispered, “Identity theft.”
Anna nodded.
“Someone replaced me.”
I looked at my own hands.
Suddenly, every memory felt fragile.
My first date with Daniel.
Our wedding.
Our honeymoon.
The apartment we bought.
The photographs.
The passwords.
The stories he told me about his childhood.
Six years of memories.
Could they all have been manufactured?
“No,” I whispered.
Anna stepped closer.
“Claire, I don’t think you stole my identity.”
I looked up.
“Then what happened?”
Her answer came quietly.
“I think someone stole yours.”
Before I could respond, the elevator behind her chimed.
The doors opened.
Daniel stepped out.
His face went completely white when he saw Anna.
Then he looked at me.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Finally, Daniel whispered one word.
“Claire.”
Anna laughed.
“Which one?”
Daniel’s eyes shifted between us.
And for the first time in six years, I saw something on my husband’s face that I had never seen before.
Fear.
Not surprise.
Not confusion.
Fear.
He slowly reached into his jacket.
Ryan immediately moved toward him.
“Don’t.”
Daniel stopped.
Then he pulled out his phone instead.
He held up the screen.
There was a photograph on it.
A photograph of me sleeping in our hotel room.
Taken only minutes earlier.
My blood ran cold.
Daniel looked directly at me.
“Claire,” he said, “you need to leave this hotel with me right now.”
Anna stepped beside me.
“No.”
Daniel’s eyes hardened.
“You have no idea what she’s capable of.”
Anna looked at him.
“I know exactly what I’m capable of.”
Then she turned toward me.
“And if you want to know who you’ve really been married to for six years, you need to come with me.”
I stared at Daniel.
Then at Anna.
Then at Ryan.
Three people.
Three different stories.
And somewhere between them was the truth about my own life.
I just didn’t know which one of them had been lying to me the longest.
