Chapter 3 - The Mirror Doesn't Lie"Open up, sweetheart," Daniel's voice called from the front porch.
It sounded rich. It sounded warm. It sounded completely, unmistakably like my husband.
"Clara? Are you and Emma still in the kitchen? I forgot my passport."
I stood paralyzed beside the sink, my hand still dripping soapy water. Every maternal instinct screamed at me to run, to grab Emma and dive out the back window. But logic—desperate, terrifying logic—argued back. It's Daniel. He forgot his passport. You're losing your mind.
"Mommy, don't!" Emma hissed, clamping her hands over her ears. "Don't look at his eyes when you open it! They're too blue!"
I took a deep, trembling breath, stepped away from the kitchen island, and walked down the long, sunlit hallway. The hardwood floor felt like ice beneath my bare feet.
Through the frosted glass of the front door, a tall silhouette stood waiting. The broad shoulders in the tailored navy suit. The faint glint of the expensive anniversary watch catching the morning sun.
My hand hovered over the brass deadbolt.
"Daniel?" I called out, my voice cracking slightly. "I thought you were halfway to O'Hare."
The silhouette shifted. The voice that replied was smooth as silk, yet carried a strange, hollow echo that hadn't been there ten minutes ago.
"Traffic on the bypass was backed up for miles, honey. Gate change anyway. Let me in before I miss the window."
My finger clicked the deadbolt open. I turned the handle.
As the heavy oak door swung inward, sunlight flooded the entryway, illuminating the man standing on my porch.
And then, I looked into his eyes.
They weren't Daniel's warm, familiar hazel eyes. They were a brilliant, terrifying, unnatural shade of cobalt blue.
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And as the man smiled—stretching his lips into a shape that didn't reach his soul—he reached out, gripped my wrist with fingers that felt as cold and heavy as iron, and whispered:
"Found you."
