Chapter 2

After completing Amelia's death certificate, I stopped by to get her photo printed as a memorial portrait.

When I got back to the Laurent residence, I unexpectedly ran into Amelia, who was bringing Samuel home. Two rosy-cheeked children trailed behind them. The four of them looked every bit like a real family.

When Samuel noticed me, he put on a shy expression that irritated me. "Penny can't bear to be apart from me and didn't want to stay in the hospital, so she brought me home to recover."

The two of them gazed at each other tenderly. It wasn't until I was nearly sick to my stomach that Amelia finally asked, "Where did you go?"

I held up the photo and smiled brightly. "I went and had a memorial portrait printed for Amy."

They looked at the photo in my hand, and their expressions changed.

Amelia reacted the most, her expression turning dark. "Matthew Robinson! What are you doing? First, you brought in a doctor and a priest, and now you're printing a memorial portrait."

I said, "Penelope, Amelia is dead. You wouldn't refuse to give her a funeral, would you? By the way, when will the funeral be held? When are we picking up her ashes?"

My questions left Amelia speechless.

Just then, Charlotte, who had been standing behind Amelia, rushed forward. She pushed me to the ground with all her strength, snatched the photo, and tore it to pieces.

She cried as she said, "I don't want to see Mom's photo. I don't want to!"

Seeing this, Amelia pulled Charlotte into her arms. Amelia said coldly, "Matthew, this is the last time I'll tolerate your nonsense. If it happens again, pack your things and leave the Laurent residence."

Charlotte shot Amelia a smug look, and Amelia met it with an approving smile. Neither of them realized that I had a clear view of the whole exchange from where I was.

Amelia and Charlotte were every bit mother and daughter. Their act was flawless.

I didn't want to stay at the Laurent residence any longer.

I ignored the scrapes on my palms and stumbled to my room. After rummaging through my things, I found a long-forgotten SIM card tucked inside the lining of my suitcase.

I inserted it into my phone and turned it on. Thousands of messages flooded in at once.

I called the only contact saved on the card—Zoey Parker. "Zoey, I want to come home."

On the other end, Zoey's voice was hoarse and edged with disbelief. "Matthew? You've really become bold, running off without saying a single word. I've been worried about you all these years, searching everywhere for you. I was so afraid that—"

I cut her off. "Zoey, I'm in Silverford. Come pick me up and take me home."

"Okay. I'll be in Silverford in three days," Zoey replied.

After hanging up, I sat in a daze for a long time, staring at the head of the bed. The only thing hanging on the wall was my wedding photo. It was the only picture I had of Amelia and me.

Over the past seven years, I could never understand how the young woman I had once pulled from the river—the one who had sat on the riverbank with me, drinking and laughing—had turned into someone so cold.

I opened the frame of the wedding photo, and another photo slipped out. I picked it up and saw that it was the other half of a picture, showing Samuel in a suit, grinning brightly.

My hands trembled as I aligned his half with mine. They matched perfectly, which explained why Amelia had chosen this particular photo to print.

On the back of the photo, it read, "In this life, no one else deserves to stand beside me but you."

Tears streamed down my face. I gripped the photo tightly, wanting to find Amelia and demand an answer regardless of the consequences.

I barged into the chapel and froze at its emptiness. Only then did I remember that she didn't need to keep up the act of being distant and devout anymore.

I tore the chapel apart in a frenzy. When I lifted one of the cushions, I found a hidden compartment packed with photos of Samuel.

Samuel stood behind me and scoffed. "You finally found out."

I stared at him, stunned. "So you knew all along."

He laughed dismissively. "Are you talking about Amy pretending to be Penny, or about these photos?"

He went on, clearly pleased with himself. "These pictures she had worked so hard to find were all carefully taken by me for her. Every single image has her mark on it."

He looked at me smugly, as if I were a clown—the kind who had worn all sorts of revealing outfits to the chapel over the years, only to be ruthlessly kicked out by Amelia every time.

He continued, "Every time you left after trying to seduce her, she would look at these photos and…"

My stomach turned.

Samuel kept smiling the whole time. I lunged at him, but he shoved me down before I could land a hit.

He twirled a lighter between his fingers. "If the chapel caught fire, do you think Amy would save you or these photos?"

He flicked the lighter open, ignited the photo in his hand, and dropped it in front of me. Then he turned around and shut the door behind him.