Shamefully weak, that was what she was. Angela had tried time and time again to put an end to her affair with Daniel, but she could never resist to his silver tongue and his seductive smirk.

The worst part of it was that her husband probably suspected; he might not know who was the man she was seeing, but he could easily guess that there was someone.

Patrick withdrew into himself once again, while she spent her nights crying herself asleep alone in her bed. Until one morning she grabbed a bottle of sleeping pills, and decided that she'd better take the quick way out of this mess.

She scribbled a quick note on a piece of paper, then prepared a cup of tea the way Patrick liked it – with the milk put in first. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she stirred the pills into the steaming beverage, then brought the cup to her lips.

That was when she felt an iron grip on her hand, and she found herself staring in the fathomless depths of her husband's eyes. He took the teacup from her trembling hands and poured its contents down the kitchen sink; then he sat down beside her, and she flinched slightly at his gentle touch.

"I'm sorry," he whispered softly, and she started sobbing at last. If there was someone that was meant to be sorry that should be her, not him.

"Forgive me, Patrick," she muttered, holding onto the lapels of his jacket for dear life. "Forgive me."

"It's okay," he murmured, placing a small kiss on her temple. "Let's forget about the past. We're just going to start it all again."

She could hardly believe it was going to be that easy, but he seemed genuinely upset at the thought he'd just come so close to losing her to death.

"I've always known that my brother held a special place in your heart, but it never really mattered to me. I love you, and I know I wouldn't be the same man without you. You're the one who gave me the strength to break away from a life that I hated, and I'm deeply grateful for that."

"You're too good a man, Patrick," she whispered among the tears. "I don't deserve your love – perhaps I never did."

"Angela, look at me. I've seen dozens of marriages ruined by cheating, but it's never just about the physical act. It's the broken trust and the resentment that tear people apart. I don't want to lose our marriage because of that."

They were truly happy for the next few weeks; Patrick still loved her, and she was never going to risk losing him again.

When Daniel dared to show his face once more she decisively shut him out, claiming that he should respect her decision to save her marriage. She had already pushed his memory to the back of her mind, when old fears resurfaced with a vengeance as she unexpectedly discovered that she was pregnant.

Unfortunately there was a small chance that the baby was actually Daniel's, and she had no idea how her husband would react to such news.

It was Patrick himself who solved her dilemma; one evening he embraced her tenderly and announced that he was the happiest of men, he just couldn't wait to be a father. She knew then that he didn't care who the biological father of the child actually was, for he already loved them as his own.

"I'll be the one to hold our child when they cry at night," he once told her, in between peppering her belly with affectionate kisses. "I'll read them bedtime stories, and throw the most beautiful parties for their birthday. That's what will make me their daddy, and I promise I'm going to be a better father than Daniel and I ever had."

The moment Charlotte Ann was born was the start of a new life, and her previous happiness paled in comparison to what she felt right now. Her baby girl was truly a gift, and her husband now spent all his spare time with the two of them.

The only cloud to her bliss was a short visit that Daniel paid them on the occasion of Charlotte's third birthday. Patrick had gone to town in order to buy a gift for their little princess, and for the first time Angela felt really afraid when his twin stepped in with a strange smile plastered to his face.

"You can't stay here," she hissed under her breath. They had never mentioned Uncle Daniel to Charlotte, and the last thing she wanted was someone to upset her precious daughter.

A naughty grin spread all over his face. "Come on, Angel. I think I deserve to see my child at last."

Angela clenched her fists. "She's not yours. Go away, or I'll call the police."

He chuckled softly, brushing his fingertips at the corner of her lips. "You're beautiful when you're angry."

Then he finally walked away, and she was grateful that Charlotte was too young to understand the meaning of all this. When her husband was back she told him what had happened, and his lips set in a grim line as he listened to her.

"He doesn't get to come into our house as he pleases," Patrick said with conviction, and she felt immediately safer.

A couple of days later he came home with a dark bruise under his eye and scratched knuckles. When asked about it he refused to give any sort of explanation, but she knew that Daniel wasn't going to bother them again.

Later that year they were informed that Daniel Jane had been involved in an tragic accident; his car had fallen over a cliff, and his body was never found. Patrick was deeply saddened at the news, he'd just lost his twin brother after all.

Then they slowly forgot about him in time. Charlotte had now turned five, and she was nothing short of a child prodigy when it came to playing piano.

Her mother would often play with her, or listen to her music as the child's slender fingers danced over the keyboard. Patrick loved to listen too, he always said that their little girl would grow into a fine pianist one day.

He was now consulting with the police on some of their unsolved cases. Angela was proud of him; even if he wasn't a real psychic he still helped them to track down the criminals, and that was all that mattered.

However, she couldn't fight back her bad feeling about the upcoming TV show her husband had been invited to participate in as a guest. She wasn't able to explain the reason for it, but she still begged him not to go.

Patrick only smiled and dropped an affectionate kiss on top of her head. "It's just an interview, Angie. I'll be back soon."

That night she tucked Charlotte into bed, then retreated to her bedroom and spent the next couple of hours staring at the dark shadows moving to and fro on the ceiling.

When she heard a soft step coming up the stairs, she smiled and sat up. Patrick was home earlier than she thought.

The smile died on her lips as soon as she could see his face; this wasn't her husband, though he looked exactly like him.

"So we meet again, Angel," the man said in a somewhat amused whisper.

Then she caught a glimpse of the steel blade shimmering between his gloved fingers.