I never thought the boys would cling to me like I was their own mother—until their father noticed the scar only his dead wife should have had.

Andrew's bedroom looked different but the same.

The furniture was new.

Vivian's things were everywhere—perfume bottles on the dresser, silk robes hanging on the back of the door, framed photographs of her and Andrew and the boys.

But the bed was the same one we had shared for five years.

The view out the window was the same.

The city lights sparkled in the distance just like they always had.

Andrew carried Noah to the bed and laid him down gently.

Liam climbed up beside him and pulled the covers over both of them.

Within minutes, both boys were asleep.

Andrew and I stood at the foot of the bed, watching them.

"They look so peaceful," I whispered.

"They haven't looked peaceful in a long time," Andrew said quietly. "I thought it was the trauma of losing you. I never imagined..."

He trailed off.

I reached for his hand.

He laced his fingers through mine.

"We need to talk about Vivian," I said.

Andrew's jaw tightened.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything," I said. "How did she convince you? How did she get away with it?"

Andrew sighed.

He led me to a sitting area in the corner of the bedroom.

We sat on a couch that hadn't been there before.

"After the fire," he started, "I was destroyed. I couldn't function. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I could barely take care of the boys. Vivian was there. She had been your best friend, or so I thought. She told me you would want her to help. She moved in 'temporarily' to take care of us."

He looked at his hands.

"She handled everything. The funeral arrangements. The insurance paperwork. The doctors. She told me the body was so badly burned that dental records were the only way to identify you. She showed me all the paperwork. It all looked official."

"It was forged," I said.

Andrew nodded.

"I know that now. But then? I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe you were gone so I could start grieving properly. The alternative—that you were somewhere, hurt and alone—I couldn't face that."

He paused.

"Eighteen months later, she proposed. She said it wasn't about love, not really. It was about stability. For the boys. For me. She said we could give them a normal family. I was so tired of being tired. I said yes."

"Did you love her?"

The question hung in the air.

Andrew looked me straight in the eyes.

"No," he said simply. "I tried. God knows I tried. But I couldn't. Every time I looked at her, I saw you. Not literally. But in everything she did. The way she arranged the flowers. The meals she cooked. The way she tried to be you."

He reached for my hand again.

"I never stopped loving you, Elena. Not for a single day. I just thought I had to."

I felt tears prick my eyes.

"I never stopped loving you either," I whispered. "Even when I thought you were dead."

We sat in silence for a moment.

"She has access to everything," Andrew said. "My bank accounts. The business. The boys' trust funds. If she suspects what we're planning, she could disappear with everything. Including the boys."

"Then we can't give her any reason to suspect," I said. "Not yet. Tomorrow, things have to look normal. I'll go back to being the maid. You'll go to work. Vivian will think you've come to your senses, that you've realized I'm an imposter."

Andrew frowned.

"I don't want you anywhere near her."

"I've been near her for three months," I reminded him. "She doesn't suspect a thing. Not really. She thinks I'm just a greedy maid who did her research. Let her keep thinking that. While she's underestimating me, we can gather the proof we need."

Andrew hesitated.

Then he nodded.

"Okay. But you have to be careful. If she figures out who you really are, if she feels threatened..."

"I know," I said. "She already tried to kill me once. I won't give her a second chance."

Andrew pulled me into his arms.

He held me tight.

Three years of emptiness vanished in that embrace.

"I'm going to hire the best investigator in the country," he said into my hair. "We're going to tear her life apart. We're going to find every lie, every forged document, every illegal thing she's ever done. And when we're done, she's going to prison for a very long time."

I closed my eyes.

I breathed in his scent.

The same cologne he had worn for years.

Home.

"And then what?" I asked.

Andrew pulled back just enough to look at my face.

"Then," he said, "we start over. Not as the people we were three years ago. As who we are now. We'll get through this together. The four of us."

Somewhere in the house, a clock chimed midnight.

Tomorrow would be the beginning of the end.

For Vivian.

For the lies.

For the life that had been stolen from me.