And the worst part: the more I discovered, the more obvious it became — my husband hadn’t met a woman who looked like me by coincidence.

He had been looking for someone like that. Consciously. Deliberately. And even more terrifying was that people who knew his first wife whispered that, before her death, she had been very afraid of him.

They said he had become strange, obsessive, controlling. But no one managed to help her in time.

Slowly, everything fit together into a picture that made my hands tremble. He hadn’t lost his wife in an accident. He had gotten rid of her. And all this time, he had been searching for a woman who looked exactly like her.

Me.