Chapter 2

After sorting out the death certificate, I got a black-and-white memorial photo of Jim developed on the side.

When I returned to the Johnson estate, I bumped into Jim escorting Tracy home.

Trailing behind them were two children with cheeks like apples, the picture-perfect family.

The bashful look Tracy gave me when she saw me felt like a slap in the face. "Elias can't bear to be apart from me. He hates the hospital, so we're home for his recovery."

They were all googly-eyed until I nearly gagged. Only then did they finally think to ask, "Where did you run off to?"

I waved the black-and-white photo in my hand, grinning from ear to ear. "Just getting some photos of Jim."

Their expressions cycled through a whole slideshow of emotions when they saw the picture.

Jim's scowl was so intense it could scare a ghost. "Dorothy! What is this all about? Lately, you're either at the doctor's or confiding in a priest, and now you're fussing with old photos."

"Elias, Jim's gone. They can't possibly refuse us a funeral, can they?"

"When is Jim's funeral? When do we get the ashes?" I peppered him with questions.

He was speechless.

Just then, my son, who had been lurking behind me, lunged forward with a burst of energy. He shoved me to the ground, grabbed the photo, and ripped it to shreds, sobbing, "I can't look at Daddy's picture. I just can't!"

Jim, witnessing the scene, wrapped his son in a tight embrace and said icily, "Dorothy, this is the last time I will put up with your drama. One more stunt, and you will be packing your bags and leaving the Johnsons for good."

The boy in his arms shot Jim a triumphant glance, which he returned with a nod of approval.

Little did they know, from where I stood, I caught every detail of their silent conspiracy.

Like father, like son, they were a perfect pair in their deceitful performance.

However, I was done with the Johnsons too.

Ignoring the sting of the scrapes on my hands, I stumbled back to my room, turned it upside down, and found an old phone card hidden in a compartment of my suitcase.

I swapped the card, powered up the phone, and was instantly flooded by a deluge of messages.

I called the only number saved. "Yves, I want to come home."

The voice on the other end was raspy, tinged with disbelief. "Dorothy?"

"You have gotten so daring, vanishing without a word. I have been worried sick, searching for you all these years, terrified—"

I cut him off. "Yves, I am in Twilight City. Come get me. I am ready to come home."

"All right. I will swing by Twilight City to get you in three days."

I ended the call and sat there on the bed, staring into space for what felt like forever.

The only thing hanging on the wall was our wedding photo, the only one of Jim and me together.

For seven years, I could not figure it out.

Why had the boy I saved, the one who used to sit by the river with me, sharing drinks and laughter, turned so icy?

The photo frame suddenly came apart, and a piece of photo paper slipped out.

I picked it up. It was Tracy's half of the wedding photo.

Her smile was radiant. Shaking, I laid her picture over mine.

It was a perfect match. So that was why he had wanted that photo developed.

On the back, it read:

In this life, there is no one else who deserves to stand by my side but you.

My tears fell freely.

I gripped the photo, desperate to confront Jim and demand the truth.

Without thinking, I stormed into the prayer room.

The emptiness caught me off guard.

That was when it hit me. He was no longer the devout believer he once was.

I tore through the prayer room in a frenzy, and when I lifted the kneeling pad, I found a hidden stash of Tracy's photos.

"Tsk."

"You found out."

Tracy stood behind me, her gaze mocking.

"You knew all this time." I stared at her, stunned.

She let out a scornful laugh. "What are you talking about? Jim acting as Elias, or these photos?"

She gloated, "He went to great lengths to get these photos, but I was the one who took them for him."

"His mark is on every single one."

She looked down at me as if I were a joke.

A joke who, for years, dressed in all kinds of seductive outfits for the prayer room, only to be heartlessly kicked out every single time.

"Every time you flirt and walk away, he turns on the photos to release it."

My stomach churned.

She was all smiles. I finally snapped, charging at her to throw a punch, but she knocked me down with a swift shove.

Twirling a lighter in her hand, she teased, "So, if the prayer room goes up in flames, do you think Jim will come save you, or…"

"And what about these pictures?"

With those words, she flicked the lighter, set the handkerchief ablaze, tossed it at my feet, then spun around and slammed the door shut.