Echoes of Deception

PROLOGUE: THE HAUNTING MIRROR

Alexander Reynolds stood in the dimly lit corridor of his opulent mansion, his footsteps echoing softly on the polished marble floor. He approached the grand mirror, a towering masterpiece framed in gilded elegance that dominated the room. In its reflective surface, he saw the image of a woman, his beloved wife, Victoria. Her beauty was ethereal, her smile radiant.

"Victoria, my love, your beauty knows no bounds."

He reached out, his fingertips grazing the cool glass, as if trying to bridge the gap between their worlds. But he knew the truth—he could never touch her again. Victoria was gone, lost to him in a tragic twist of fate.

"How can you be so close yet so far, my dearest?"

Every morning, he would stand before this mirror, caught in a haunting ritual. He couldn't accept that Victoria was no longer with him, that her laughter no longer filled the halls of their once-happy home.

"Our love was supposed to be eternal."

But the mirror was his solace, a place where he could imagine that she was still there, beside him, just as she had always been. He spoke to her reflection as if she could hear him, as if she could respond.

"Victoria, tell me, when shall we journey to Paris?"

And in his mind, he heard her voice, gentle and tender, as if she were truly there.

"Oh, my love, I would love that. But you know I can't leave right now."

It was a conversation with a ghost, an echo of the past that refused to fade away. Alexander's delusions had taken root, creating a world where his wife was still alive, where their love was eternal, and where reality had no place.

"Our love will never die, Victoria."

Little did he know that this mirror, this silent witness to his descent into madness, held secrets beyond his comprehension. Secrets that would soon shatter the fragile illusion he had clung to for so long.