CHAPTER ONE: THE MAN I TRUSTED
Love doesn't always announce itself.
Sometimes it arrives quietly, wearing a kind smile and speaking softly enough that you lean closer just to hear it. That was how Ethan Vale entered my life—without force, without drama, without warning that loving him would one day break me.
The night we met, Rosewood was drowning in rain. Streets glistened under flickering lamps, and the wind carried the scent of wet pavement and old trees. I stood outside a small café on Maple Street, fumbling with my bag, already soaked and irritated with myself for forgetting my umbrella.
That was when a shadow fell beside me.
"You're going to catch a cold," a man said gently.
I turned, startled, and saw him holding an umbrella above us both. He had calm gray eyes and a voice that felt steady, like something solid I could lean on.
"I'm Ethan," he added. "If you don't mind sharing."
I should have said no. I should have been cautious. But something about him felt safe.
So I nodded.
Inside the café, time softened. We talked for hours—about books, dreams, disappointments, and the strange fear of becoming someone we didn't recognize. He listened like my words mattered, not just waiting for his turn to speak. When I laughed, his eyes lit up like he'd accomplished something.
When he walked me home that night, the rain had stopped. My heart hadn't.
From that day on, Ethan became my constant.
Two years later, he proposed under the same maple tree outside the café.
I said yes before he finished the question.
The ring glittered, but it was his eyes that made me cry. Full of love. Full of certainty. I believed him completely.
Everyone said I was lucky.
And I believed them.
Ethan was the kind of man mothers adored and neighbors trusted. He worked hard, spoke kindly, and carried himself with quiet confidence. When he held my hand, it felt like a promise. When he said he loved me, I never questioned it.
But there was something I didn't know.
Something everyone else did.
Ethan had a twin.
Evan Vale.
Identical in appearance, opposite in soul.
I didn't meet Evan until months into my relationship with Ethan. When I finally did, the resemblance startled me so badly I froze. Same face. Same voice. Same eyes.
But colder.
"Relax," Ethan laughed that day. "He won't bite."
Evan smiled slowly, his gaze lingering on me in a way that made my skin prickle. "So this is the woman who finally tamed my brother."
I laughed nervously, brushing it off.
I shouldn't have.
From that moment on, Evan watched me.
At family dinners, his eyes followed my movements. When Ethan wasn't around, Evan asked questions that felt too personal. When I talked about my dreams, he listened too closely—like he was memorizing me.
"You deserve more than a predictable man," he once said casually.
I told Ethan later, but he only shrugged. "That's just Evan being Evan."
I trusted Ethan.
That was my second mistake.
As our wedding approached, the air around us shifted.
Ethan became distracted. His phone buzzed constantly. When I asked who it was, he brushed it off. Work. Family. Stress. Always stress.
Sometimes, when he kissed me, it felt different—hungrier, rougher, unfamiliar.
"You okay?" I asked once, pulling back.
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Of course. Just tired."
At night, I lay awake beside him, staring at the ceiling, my heart whispering warnings I refused to hear.
The jealousy started small.
Evan showed up everywhere. At our favorite restaurant. At my art studio. At the café where Ethan and I first met.
"You look beautiful," he told me one afternoon, his voice low. "Ethan doesn't say it enough."
"Don't say things like that," I replied sharply.
He raised his hands in surrender. "Relax. I'm just honest."
But honesty shouldn't feel like a threat.
Then came the night that changed everything.
I was walking home late from the studio when I saw him across the street.
Ethan.
Standing beneath a streetlight with a woman pressed too close to him. Her fingers curled into his shirt, and he didn't pull away. He leaned down, whispering something that made her laugh.
The sound sliced through me.
I didn't cross the street. I couldn't. My body felt frozen, my chest tight as I watched the man I loved betray me without shame.
By the time I gathered the courage to move, they were gone.
That night, I cried myself to sleep beside him.
He smelled different.
When I confronted him the next morning, his reaction crushed me.
"How could you think I'd do that to you?" he asked, anger flashing across his face.
The guilt hit me instantly. I apologized. I begged him not to be upset.
He accepted my apology—but something cold settled between us.
Somewhere in Rosewood, Evan smiled.
I didn't know yet that I was already part of a game I never agreed to play.
I didn't know that love was about to turn into war.
And I had no idea that when everything finally collapsed, I wouldn't just be the woman betrayed…
I would become the woman who destroyed them both.