Chapter 2

At that moment, I finally understood. He had bought the bracelets as a pair. One was for me, and the other was for his "brother's girlfriend."

I stared at the photo for a long time, until the screen dimmed on its own.

Beside me, Matthew's breathing was steady, as if he had already fallen into a deep sleep. He was always quiet when he slept, his features relaxed.

But now I knew it was all a lie.

I pulled open the desk drawer. My fingertips brushed against the invitation to an elite pastry course in Lutetia, the one Matthew had talked me out of attending. He had told me I could always go next year.

…

The next day was the weekend.

I woke early, while Matthew was still asleep. I walked into his study. Sunlight filtered through the blinds and cast mottled patches of light across the floor.

"Hubby, let me tidy up your study. You've been so busy lately that it's gathering dust," I called toward the bedroom.

His voice came back quickly, thick with sleep. "Sure. Just be careful. Don't bump into the models."

I answered him and shut the study door.

Matthew had never once been guarded around me. He was certain I loved him, trusted him, and would never suspect him.

I began my treasure hunt.

His study was large. An entire wall displayed the architectural models he had built over the years, each one a piece of his life's work.

I searched them one by one. Finally, beneath his most prized model, the one called Heart of the City, my fingers found a groove that should not have been there.

I pressed down hard. The base of the model popped open and revealed a small hidden compartment.

Inside lay a phone, silent and untouched. It was identical to the one he currently used, right down to the case.

My heart pounded. My fingertips trembled.

I picked up the phone and turned on the screen. It required a password.

I did not hesitate. I entered my sister's birthday.

The screen flashed and unlocked.

The phone was disturbingly clean. It had only one app: WhatsApp.

I opened it and tapped the profile picture. It was a selfie of my sister, the same one I had seen on her Twitter feed.

The contact name read: Winnie.

I opened the chat history. It stretched back three years, dense and unbroken, with barely a day missing.

Winona: [Max, I'm out of money for paint again. Our teacher says imported paint works better.]

[Transfer: $1,000]

Matthew: [Sweetheart, don't wear yourself out. Just tell me if you need anything.]

Winona: [Max, that dress Minnie wore today is so pretty. I want one too.]

[Image]

Matthew: [Sweetheart, you have great taste. I've already sent my assistant to buy it. It'll be delivered to your school tomorrow.]

Winona: [Max, I got into a fight with Minnie today. Why does she get to have such a great boyfriend while you're never around... I can't stand it.]

Matthew: [There, there, don't cry. I'm in the middle of a big project. Once it's done, I'll take you to the Aerean. Whatever Minnie has, my Winnie will have too, and better.]

Message after message, incident after incident, every exchange revealed the same pattern: my sister's endless demands and his equally endless indulgence.

Under the identity of Maxwell, he had satisfied every one of my sister's demands, reasonable or not, and spoiled her into a lawless little princess.

I forced down my nausea and kept searching until I found his chat history with his childhood friend, Andrew Rhodes.

A carefully buried, twisted truth finally tore itself open, raw and bleeding.

Andrew: [How much longer are you going to keep this up? Playing two roles as one person, running back and forth every day. Doesn't it exhaust you?]

Matthew: [It does. But it's worth it.]

Andrew: [What are you even getting out of this? Why not just pay Winona off and get rid of her?]

Matthew: [You don't understand. Winona's a problem I can't shake off. Ever since we were kids, all she's done is cling to Minnie, envy her, take what belongs to her. How many things has she already ruined? If I don't keep her firmly under control, if I don't use the identity of Maxwell to keep her steady, she'll sooner or later turn my life with Minnie upside down.]

Matthew: [This is the best way to protect Minnie. I can't let her be hurt in the slightest.]

I stared at the words "the best way to protect Minnie," and the blood in my veins seemed to freeze solid.

So he hadn't simply cheated or fallen for someone else. He had been controlling every aspect of my life in a way that bordered on deranged.

In his eyes, I wasn't a lover or a wife. I was a fragile porcelain doll that needed to be locked away and protected.

In his arrogance, he had shut out every danger he could find, yet he had never once realized that he was the greatest danger of all.

I kept searching and found a video. I tapped it open. The footage shook slightly, as if someone had filmed it in secret.

The video was from my senior year of high school. I stood at an easel in my studio apron.

My sister rushed over and started arguing with me about something. Then she accidentally knocked over the paint palette at my feet. Paint splashed all over me and ruined the piece I had spent an entire month preparing for my art college entrance exam.

In the video, I crouched on the floor and sobbed so hard that my entire body shook.

Then a teenage Matthew burst in. He pulled off his school uniform jacket, draped it over my shoulders, drew me tightly into his arms, and murmured words of comfort.

The video ended there.

I stared at the frozen frame.

The angle made one thing unmistakably clear: someone had filmed the video through a window in the building across from our old family home.