Chapter 43 The Mirror Image
Elena watched in shock as the blonde woman clung to Julian, her sobs muffled against his chest. Elena stood frozen on the gravel path, her hand feeling cold where Julian had just been holding it.
She watched her husband’s face. He looked like he had been turned to stone. His jaw was set so hard it looked like it might snap, and his eyes were wide, staring at nothing.
"Samson," the woman choked out, pulling back just enough to look at him. Her face was a mess of tears and smeared mascara. "We had a funeral. We had a service. Your mother... she never recovered. How are you here? Why didn't you come home?"
Julian finally moved. He didn't hug her back. Instead, he reached up and firmly but gently gripped the woman’s shoulders, pushing her away until there was a clear foot of space between them.
"Ma'am," Julian said coldly. The "cute" version of him from the ice cream shop was gone. "I think you’ve made a mistake."
The woman blinked, her chest heaving. "What? No. No, Samson, it’s me. It’s Chloe. We grew up together. We were supposed to get married after the academy! I know it’s been ten years, but I’d know your face anywhere."
"My name is Julian Thorne," he said, his voice as sharp as a knife. "I’m an attorney from Chicago. This is my wife, Elena."
He gestured toward Elena, who was standing there with her mouth slightly open. The woman, Chloe, finally looked at Elena. Her eyes were full of confusion and a deep, raw pain that made Elena’s heart ache.
"Wife?" Chloe whispered. She looked back at Julian. "No. You have that scar on your temple from the time we fell off the roof. You have the same blue eyes. You even stand the same way. You’re Samson Miller."
"I don't know who Samson Miller is," Julian said. He didn't blink or even flinch. "I was involved in an accident ten years ago that gave me that scar, yes, but I have a full record of my life. I’m sorry for your loss, but you have the wrong man."
"You're lying," Chloe said, her voice rising. She started to cry again, real, ugly tears. "Why are you doing this? Is it the accident? Did you lose your memory? Samson, please. Just look at me. It’s me!"
People in the park were starting to stare.
A few teenagers stopped their bikes to watch the drama.
"I am not Samson," Julian said, his voice rising just enough to be heard over her crying. "I am sorry for what you’ve been through, but I am here on a holiday with my wife and you are distressing her."
Chloe looked at Elena again. "Do you know him? Do you really know who he is? Have you seen his past?"
Elena didn't know what to say. She thought about the basement, the scars in his back, and the way he had patched up a wounded Cassandra. She wasn't so sure what to think.
"He's my husband," Elena said, though her voice lacked conviction.
"I’m sorry," Julian said to Chloe. "We have to go."
He grabbed Elena’s hand, his grip was almost painful this time, and began walking away. Chloe didn't follow them, but her voice followed them down the path.
"I know it's you!" she screamed. "I know it's you, Samson!"
Julian didn't look back. He marched Elena out of the park and back toward the busier streets of the city.
He didn't say a word for ten minutes. He just walked.
"Julian," Elena finally said, pulling on his arm. "Stop. You're hurting my hand."
He stopped instantly and let go. He looked down at her, and for a second, he looked terrified. "I’m sorry. I didn't mean to. That woman, she was clearly unstable."
"She didn't look unstable, Julian," Elena said, rubbing her wrist. "She looked like she had just seen a ghost. She knew about a scar on your temple. Do you have a scar there?"
Julian brushed his hair over his forehead. "I have a lot of scars, Elena. I told you I was in an accident. She was just looking for someone she lost. People see what they want to see."
"She was so sincere," Elena whispered.
"She was mistaken," Julian snapped and checked his watch. "We have tickets for that movie. Let’s just go. I want to get out of the sun."
The movie theater was the perfect distraction.
When they arrived, the place was old and smelled like popcorn and velvet. Julian had bought tickets for a horror movie, something about a haunted house.
Elena sat in the dark, the loud screams from the screen feeling distant as she was lost in thought. She wasn't watching the movie.
“Samson Miller.”
The name felt haunting. If Julian was Samson, then everything he had told her was a lie.
"Elena?" Julian whispered in the dark. He leaned closer, his hand finding hers in the theater seat. "Are you okay? You haven't moved in an hour."
"I'm fine," she said. "Just tired. The travel is catching up to me."
"Do you want to leave?"
"No, let’s finish the movie."
She sat there through the rest of the film, her eyes burning.
Every time a character on screen was chased by a ghost, she thought of Chloe. She thought of the way Chloe had looked at Juliann with a desperate, heartbroken love. A woman doesn't look at a stranger like that.
When the end credits finally started to roll, the lights came up. Julian stood up and offered his hand.
"You were distracted," he said as they walked out into the cool night air. "You didn't even jump at the jump-scares."
"I told you, I'm just tired," Elena said. "Maybe we should just head back to the hotel."
"I think that's a good idea," Julian said. He looked relieved.
The walk back to the hotel was quiet. The city was still alive with the sound of jazz coming from the bars, but the magic of the afternoon was gone.
The yellow flower Julian had bought her was literally wilting in her hand.
They got into the hotel elevator and Julian pressed the button for the top floor. He stood close to her, his shoulder brushing hers, but he didn't try to talk.
He looked like he was deep in his own thoughts.
Elena looked at him in the mirror. She saw the scar Chloe had mentioned, a tiny, thin line near his hairline that she had never noticed before because he always kept his hair styled just so.
In that moment, she made up her mind.
She wasn't going to let this go. She wasn't going to go back to Chicago and wait for Francis to ruin her life while she lived with a man who might be a lying stranger. She had to find that woman. She had to find Chloe.
Savannah wasn't that big. Chloe looked like a local. She had been in workout gear, which meant she probably lived near the park or frequented a gym nearby.
Elena looked at Julian as the elevator doors opened. He gave her a small, tired smile.
"Go ahead and get ready for bed," he said. "I'm going to step out onto the balcony for a minute. I need some air."
"Okay," Elena said.
She walked into the suite and shut the door to the bedroom. She didn't go to bed. She went to her duffel bag and pulled out a small notepad and a pen she had taken from the hotel desk.
She had to get out of here. She had to find out the truth about Samson Miller.