Chapters (68)
- Cover
- Praise for
- PART ONE
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- NETWORK RAIL SAFETY UPGRADES TOO LATE FOR “OUR ALICE”
- 17
- 18
- 19
- 20
- 21
- 22
- 23
- 24
- 25
- 26
- 27
- 28
- 29
- 30
- 31
- 32
- 33
- 34
- PART TWO
- 35
- 36
- 37
- 38
- 39
- 40
- 41
- 42
- 43
- 44
- 45
- 46
- PART THREE
- 47
- 48
- 49
- 50
- 51
- 52
- 53
- 54
- 55
- 56
- THREE MONTHS LATER
- Dedication
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- BY LESLEY KARA
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
My stomach pitches with shock as the hideous truth begins to emerge. I must have been trying to leave before I had the seizure. Ross must have seen my rucksack when he came home and found me passed out on the floor. Did he realize I was trying to escape?
The stairs creak. I stuff the tablets and passport back into the compartment and get off the chair, just managing to put it back in front of the dressing table before Ross opens the door, my heart thumping so loud and fast I’m amazed he can’t hear it. The knowledge is like a bad drug speeding through my veins, turning my blood to ice.
I pretend to be putting something away in a drawer. I have to keep calm and act normal or he’ll know something’s up. I have to pretend that nothing has changed. That I’m still the same old Lizzie he thinks he knows. The one who thinks his aunt Jessie lived in Sittingbourne. The one who has no idea how long he’s really known Catherine Dawson.
Oh God. So he knew who I was right from the start! His confusion at the party when I dropped the tray of wine—the whole thing was an act. And his questions when all the guests had left. He already knew all the answers.
He rests the tray of tea on top of my dressing table and runs the tip of his finger down my cheek. That sweet, intimate gesture I’ve always loved. Is it nothing more than a calculated display of affection?
Fury swells inside me. He’s been playing a part all this time. The consummate actor. Nothing about our relationship is real. Everything that anchored me in this house, this life, is slipping away from me. Everything I know about him—everything I thought I knew about him—is gone in the blink of an eye. Ross has unraveled before me, been replaced by a clone of himself.
“Glad to be home?” he says.
Something about his voice is slightly off, at least that’s how it sounds to my suspicious ears. My fury turns to fear. What the hell is happening here? I don’t trust myself to speak, and yet I must or he’ll realize something is wrong.
“Can’t wait to get into my own bed again,” I say. Can he hear the tremor in my voice?