Chapter 1

On our wedding day, my fiancé died in a terrible car accident on his way to pick me up.

I was left a widow, carrying a child who would never know its father.

The shock left me severely depressed. I wanted to end my life more times than I could count. Everyone told me to keep going for the baby.

On the day of his funeral, his older brother returned from Africa with his wife to pay their respects.

He looked so much like the man I'd lost that I kept forgetting myself when I saw him.

Then I happened to overhear them talking in his mother's bedroom.

“You faked your death to get out of your wedding for that Black woman? Claire is carrying your baby. You went through all this just to bring that dark-skinned tramp home?”

For a long time, there was no answer. Then the man I knew as my brother-in-law spoke quietly.

“Vivian is dying. Her doctors say she has six months at most. When that's over, Claire will be nearly ready to give birth. Everything will go back to the way it was. We'll be a happy family of three.”

Only then did I understand. My husband had never died. This supposed older brother was Ethan Hale himself.

Struggling to control my shaking hands, I sent a message to my brother, who worked in intelligence overseas.

“Help me stage an accident. If Ethan can fake his death, so can I. I want him to feel exactly what he put me through.”

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After I sent the text, my hands wouldn't stop shaking. The conversation behind the door continued.

“Do you think this is fair to Claire? If it weren't for the baby, she would have died with you. She hardly eats. She walks around like she doesn't know where she is. It hurts me to see her like that.”

Ethan sighed deeply.

“But Vivian only has six months left. This is her one wish. I can't deny her that.”

“Claire and I have our whole lives ahead of us. I'll make it up to her later. Stop worrying, Mom…”

My chest tightened painfully. I hurt all over and could barely breathe.

I stumbled back to my bedroom. My knees gave out, and I fell to the floor just as my brother called.

“Claire, what happened? What's going on? I thought Ethan was dead.”

I wanted to explain, but as soon as I tried to speak, I started crying.

Of course he thought Ethan was dead. So did everyone else.

I understood why he was asking. Even I had never imagined that Ethan would pretend to die. And he'd done it for another woman.

Though I couldn't say anything, my brother seemed to hear what I was going through. He paused for a while before answering gently.

“I'll send a plane the day after tomorrow. I'll arrange the rest.”

When the call ended, I stayed exactly where I was, still holding the phone to my ear.

A soft knock came at the door.

My brother-in-law stood outside, holding a glass of milk.

Ethan. It was Ethan holding that glass.

“Claire, what's wrong? Why are you sitting on the floor? Why are you crying? Are you missing Ethan again?”

He'd been back for more than two weeks, pretending to be my brother-in-law, and he'd been nothing but kind to me. He seemed to care for me exactly as he would his dead brother's wife.

His attention had left me confused so many times. His mother always said I was seeing what I wanted to see because I missed Ethan.

I quietly locked my phone and managed a strained smile.

“It's nothing. My stomach was hurting. I got unsteady.”

He seemed relieved. Setting the milk down, he carefully helped me off the floor.

“Already giving your mom a hard time? Wait until you're born. Your uncle will straighten you out.”

“Come on. I warmed some milk for you. Drink it and get some rest. Try not to think so much. Ethan wouldn't want to look down from heaven and see you like this.”

I couldn't bear to hear him use his own name again.

I raised my head and looked him in the eye.

“Are you really not Ethan?”