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“It’s for your own good, honey. I don’t want to see you go downhill any faster than you need to. Let’s stop this before it gets any worse.”
The oven beeps, letting me know it’s ready.
I put the veggies in and slam the door shut. “These will be ready in half an hour. You’d better get started on the steaks.”
Then I storm upstairs and lock myself in the bedroom.
ChapterTwenty-Three
Both Emily and Jennifer gave me the side eye when I dropped off the kids. I’m so ready to pull them out of this school and find another one, but all of the good ones have a waitlist—and this school has the longest of them all. Of course Owen and Sophie love it.
I’m going to have to find a way to prove to everyone there’s actually someone impersonating me. Then when they all see I’m right, people will go back to respecting me.
However, finding evidence to support the facts is proving to be harder than expected. I can’t even convince my own husband, so how can I get anyone else on board?
I’ll have to find a way, no matter what it takes. There is no other option. One problem is I’ve already spoken with everyone who has interacted with my doppelgänger, and they all believe she was me. Even my own husband, who had lunch with that devil!
The deck is stacked against me. But I’ll take whatever odds are in my favor, no matter how small. I have a chance, and I’m going to find it.
After jotting down today’s password to pick up the kids, I give Megan a call in my car. After going over all the new details with her, she says she’ll think it over and let me know any ideas she comes up with. Unfortunately, she’s as stumped as I am about all of this.
I can’t wait until she thinks of something. I rack my mind to think of who else might have a good idea.
Claire. My sister-in-law is a ghostwriter. If anyone can come up with something creative, it’s her.
Voicemail.
Ugh. I leave a message, pleading with her to get back to me as soon as possible.
I pull out of the parking lot slowly. What I need is a plan for the day.
As I’m lost in thought driving nowhere in particular, I find myself at my parents’ house. My subconscious mind had a plan even if I struggled to focus. Mom saw and spoke with the person trying to destroy my life. Maybe she can offer some insight.
Though given all the counterpoints Peter brought up last night before dinner, it does make me wonder how that woman has been able to pull off tricking the people closest to me. Of all people, my own mother and husband should be able to recognize a fake.
Neither did.
If I’m going to question my mom, I need to keep my cards close to my chest. The last thing I need is for her to think I need a medical evaluation, too. I have to make sure she doesn’t get on the same page as Peter.
Things went relatively well with Trixie yesterday—she opened up to me and was friendly—so I can hopefully pull off the same with my own flesh and blood.
When Mom answers the door, her eyes widen.
“You can’t bethatshocked by me showing up.”
“Well, you have to admit that two visits in one morning is unusual.”
I blink a few times, trying to register her words. “This is my second visit today?”
She grabs my shoulders. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already! The last thing I want is for you to get Dad’s early dementia.”
This isn’t starting off well at all.
I shake my head to clear it. “Of course I haven’t forgotten. I was just kidding.”
“Don’t do that!” She glares at me. “It’s not something to joke about.”
“You’re right. It was in poor taste, and I’m sorry.”
