There were pictures of a woman—a dead woman, to be precise—who looked almost exactly like Raven. The dark hair, the curves in just the same places and almost exact proportions, the eyes just the same. If we’d gone out in public together, people would have said we were sisters. Jake’s deceased fiancé, Peyton, was a dead ringer for Raven. And the knowledge of it was absolutely shaking Raven to her very foundations. Out of all those beautiful models at the party that night, you kept wondering why he took an interest in you. And now you finally know why he chose you and not anybody else. It’s not because you’re so amazing, it’s not because he likes your personality or thinks you’re special. It’s only because you look almost exactly like her. Raven put the phone away, closed her eyes, tried to breathe slowly and calm herself, but it wasn’t working, because this felt like the biggest betrayal of all. She felt dizzy with fear, anxious, like the world had just tilted on its axis. This was the nightmare turn that she’d been dreading, the collapse of her little fairytale she’d created, where Jake Novak swept her off her feet and took her away from everything.
