The invitation is heavy in my hand. Embossed gold lettering on cream cardstock that probably costs more per square inch than most people's dinner. *Morgan & Associates Annual Gala. Honoring This Year's Outstanding Achievement Award Recipients.* My name should be on that list. My project. My eighteen months of sleepless nights and brutal negotiations that saved the company forty million dollars. I smooth down the emerald silk of my gown—the one I had custom-made for tonight. The one that cost three months' salary because I wanted to look perfect when I accepted my award. When I finally proved to the Morgan family that marrying their golden boy Ethan wasn't about his money or his name. That I earned my place. The venue glitters ahead, all glass and modern architecture, lit up like a jewel box. Valets in crisp uniforms rush to open car doors. Women in furs and diamonds glide past security like swans. I'm late. Traffic was a nightmare, and my phone died, so I couldn't call Ethan to tell him. He's probably inside already, scanning the crowd for me, wondering where I am. The thought makes me smile as I approach the entrance. "Name?" The security guard doesn't look up from his tablet. "Vivian Morgan." Now he looks up. His eyes scan me head to toe, and something flickers across his face. Confusion? "ID, please." I fish my driver's license from my clutch. He studies it for a long moment, then glances at someone over my shoulder. Another guard approaches. "Is there a problem?" My voice comes out sharper than intended. "Just a moment, ma'am." The second guard murmurs into his radio. This is ridiculous. I'm about to demand they let me through when the doors open and Ethan appears. Relief floods through me. "Ethan, thank God. Tell them—" "Who are you?" His voice is ice. I actually laugh. "Very funny. Can you please tell security to—" "I don't know this woman." He's not looking at me. He's looking at the guards. "Handle it." The world tilts sideways. "Ethan, what are you—" I reach for him, and he steps back like I'm diseased. "My wife is inside. This person is clearly disturbed." His face is blank. Polite. The expression he uses with vendors and subordinates. "Please remove her from the premises." My wife is inside. The words don't make sense. I am his wife. We've been married for three years. We had coffee together this morning. He kissed my forehead and told me he'd see me tonight, that he was proud of me. "Ethan, stop. This isn't funny." My voice cracks. "It's me. It's Vivian." A woman appears beside him in the doorway. She's wearing emerald silk. My emerald silk. The exact gown I'm wearing, except hers fits her perfectly, and she's wearing the diamond necklace Ethan gave me for our anniversary. My necklace. From my safe at home. She tucks herself against Ethan's side, and he wraps his arm around her waist with casual familiarity. "Is there a problem, darling?" Her voice is honey-sweet, concerned. She looks at me with wide, innocent eyes. I've never seen her before in my life. "No problem," Ethan says smoothly. "Just someone trying to crash the party. Security's handling it." "I'm not crashing anything!" My voice rises, desperate. "I'm Vivian Morgan! I work at Morgan & Associates! I'm receiving an award tonight for the Castellano merger!" The woman in my dress gasps softly, pressing closer to Ethan. "Oh my God, she knows about your award, honey. Do you think she's been stalking you?" Your award. The ground drops out from under me. "Ma'am, you need to leave." The guard's hand closes around my arm. "No! No, you don't understand!" I wrench away from him, stumbling forward. "That's my dress! That's my necklace! I am Vivian Morgan!" I pull out my driver's license again, shove it toward Ethan. "Look! Look at it!" He doesn't even glance down. "Clearly a fake. Pathetic, really." "Sir, we need to escort her out." More guards now. Three of them. "Wait!" I'm shouting now, people are staring. "Someone call HR! Call anyone from the office! They know me! Marcus Chen—he's my project partner! Sarah Winters in accounting! They'll tell you!" "The Castellano project was completed by my wife." Ethan's voice cuts through my panic like a blade. "Vivian Morgan. The woman standing beside me. You're clearly delusional, and if you don't leave immediately, I'll have you arrested for harassment." The woman—the imposter—gives me a pitying look. Actually has the audacity to look sorry for me. She's wearing my face. Not exactly—her nose is different, her eyes are wider—but close enough. The same dark hair, the same build. Close enough that in photos, in passing, no one would question it. "Please," I whisper. "Ethan, please. It's me. Remember our honeymoon in Bali? The hotel lost our luggage and we spent three days in resort gift shop clothes? You said it was the best vacation of your life because nothing was planned." Something flickers in his eyes. Recognition. He remembers. Then his face goes blank again. "I've never been to Bali. Security, remove her. Now." Hands grab my arms. I struggle, but there are too many of them. They're dragging me backward, away from the light and warmth, away from my husband and my award and my life. "You can't do this!" I'm screaming now, fighting. My heel catches on the concrete and snaps. "I'm Vivian Morgan! I'm VIVIAN MORGAN!" The woman in my dress turns away, and Ethan follows. The doors close behind them. The last thing I see before they throw me onto the sidewalk is her accepting a champagne flute from a waiter, laughing at something someone says. Living my life. I hit the ground hard. Pain explodes through my shoulder, my hip. My dress—my beautiful dress—tears. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I can see them. The party continues. Ethan's hand rests on the small of her back as he introduces her to colleagues I've worked with for years. Nobody looks outside. Nobody sees me lying on the cold concrete, bleeding from a scrape on my palm, mascara running down my face. The security guard who threw me out brushes off his hands. "You try to come back, we call the cops. Understood?" I can't speak. Can't breathe. Inside, they're dimming the lights. The award ceremony is starting.