Chapter 13
I froze in place, my heart suddenly racing.
The entire wall of the room was covered with photos of me.
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Every single one was me, yet not quite me. They just shared the same face as mine. But I had absolutely no memory of taking these photos.
Could there really be another “Mrs. Harris” who looked exactly like me?
Disgust washed over me as I frowned and turned my gaze toward the corner of the room.
A storage basket in the corner was filled with personal items. I walked over and casually rummaged through them.
An umbrella, hair ties, socks, lipstick… all things I had previously lost.
I calmed myself down and methodically photographed each item as evidence. If Gavin dared to take his video to the police, these pieces of evidence would be enough to make him pay the price.
The flashlight beam swept behind me. I put down my phone and turned to look at the wall.
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Chapter 13
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A whole row of bookshelves came into view, with file folders neatly arranged on them. I randomly picked up a recent–dated folder and opened it.
Suddenly, a stack of photos slipped and fell to the floor.
The person in those photos looked very familiar. In disbelief, I crouched down and picked them up.
It was Aaron.
In the photos, he was with different women, and each photo had a detailed personal profile attached to the back. The forms recorded not only his basic information but even included private details like his parents‘ occupations and hotel records.
Gavin had actually investigated him? When did this happen?
I took a deep breath and quickly grabbed the second file folder. This time I was more careful, not letting the photos scatter everywhere.
Opening it, I found another familiar yet strange name, along with the same photos and profile sheets.
An uneasy feeling gradually spread through me. I hurried to the bookshelf and began examining all the file folders one by one.
I discovered that almost all the files belonged to men. And judging from the photos, they all seemed to have had some kind
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Chapter 13
of connection with me.
I suddenly felt my hands and feet turn ice cold.
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I stared at a wooden box at the innermost part of the bookshelf.
The box was exquisite and compact, but it had a four–digit combination lock hanging on it, sitting there alone, looking particularly conspicuous.
I picked up the box and tentatively entered my birthday, but there was no response.
ecalled that Juliette had recently celebrated Gavin’s day, and that day I was forced into his room, struggling all ght before crawling out.
I closed my eyes and tried hard to remember that date, then gently turned the combination lock.
With a “click,” the box opened.
Sure enough, the password was his birthday.
I lifted the lid, and the first thing I saw was a marriage certificate.
This instantly struck my heart, and various complex emotions surged like a tide. Disappointment, surprise, excitement… then my mind suddenly went blank.
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Gavin was indeed married.
But who did he marry?
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With trembling hands, I took out the marriage certificate and slowly opened it.
The moment I saw the photo, I froze completely.
The marriage certificate clearly read: Gavin & Amelia, March 13,
- 2018.
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