Chapter 7
The photograph fluttered slightly in the artificial draft of the hospital room’s air vent. It showed a younger Julian standing outside an old university chemistry lab alongside a smiling woman with dark hair tied back in a messy ponytail—a woman who looked strikingly, hauntingly like Maya, but with entirely different eyes.
Maya stared down at the image from across the bed, her breath catching in her throat. “Who… who is that? Julian, why does she look like me?”
Clara let out a harsh, pained wheeze, her eyes darting between the photograph and Julian’s cold expression. “He didn't tell you, did he? He never told you the real reason he proposed to you on the exact anniversary of Sarah’s disappearance.”
Detective Vance stepped forward from the door, his professional instincts instantly kicking into overdrive as he realized the scope of the case was expanding far beyond a simple wedding poisoning. “Mr. Hayes, I suggest you start explaining right now, before I haul you both down to the station for obstruction of justice.”
Julian let out a long, slow breath, finally breaking his silence. He picked up the photograph and slipped it back into his pocket, his movements deliberate and unhurried.
“Sarah wasn't just a college girlfriend,” Julian said quietly, his voice devoid of emotion. “She was my business partner, my first fiancé, and Clara’s roommate before Clara decided she wanted everything Sarah had—including me.”
Maya felt the room spinning around her. The ground beneath her felt unstable, as if the entire foundation of her marriage had been built on quicksand. “What does that have to do with me, Julian? Am I just… am I just some kind of replacement to you?”
“You were never a replacement,” Julian said, stepping closer to her, though Maya instinctively backed away. “You were the only person who looked like her, who talked like her, and who walked into my bookstore three years ago looking for the exact same rare editions she used to collect. I didn't plan for us to fall in love, Maya. But Clara did. Clara knew the moment we met, and she couldn't stand the thought of me finding peace after Sarah died.”
May you like
Clara laughed again, a sharp, ugly sound. “Peace? You didn't want peace, Julian. You wanted an alibi. And you found one walking down the aisle in a white dress.”
Before anyone could process the accusation, the heart monitor beside the bed let out a sudden, prolonged, ear-piercing flatline.
