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ChapterTwenty-Eight
A couple weeks earlier.
It was never my intention to steal my sister’s life. At least not initially. My plan was only to stealfromher. It started out simply enough—learn what I could about her to be able to take on her identity somewhere else. With as much money as Peter makes in anesthesiology, they would never even notice the money was gone. I’d just need some documentation, cash, and credit cards, then I would be set to start over fresh in a new state. Nobody would be any wiser, and I would finally have the life I deserved. The one Angie got.
And she goteverything. She even got a better name. I mean seriously, Angelina? She could’ve become a star with a name like that. But me? Jane. My name is synonymous with plain and sterile. Mom couldn’t even throw in a y to make the spelling alittleinteresting. Jayne has more personality than Jane. But she named me after my grandma, and that was that. She didn’t even give me a middle name that I could’ve gone by instead.
Who wouldn’t be jealous? It easily could’ve been me set into the arms of rich and adoring parents, but instead it was her. Angie got everything handed to her, whereas I had to fight for everything. Something as simple as dinner wasn’t guaranteed in my household. I couldn’t count on my mom being home every night, or even every week. It depended on how strung out she was and what guy she was seeing.
Some men brought her to their homes and refused to let me come along. She never put up a fuss and left me to fend for myself. Though it was probably for the best. Most of the men she spent time with were the true dregs of society. It got to the point where if she had one staying with us, I’d bail until he left.
I had no choice if I wanted to protect myself. Didn’t take me long to learn that when they were done with her, they wanted younger blood.
I was better off on the street than at home. If I was lucky, I could find a friend to stay with, but more often than not I wasn’t lucky. At least I got breakfast and lunch at school. Two cooked meals a day was plenty to live on, and the fact that I’m here today is proof of that.
Now it’s time to put those memories behind me. Angelina London didn’t grow up that way, and I have to get intohermindset. Shouldn’t be hard to step into a perfect life of pampering and luxury. I just have to pretend I grew up like a princess in the stories I heard growing up.
I’ve been watching Angie for weeks now. I’m more than ready to make my move, but I have to be careful. Meticulous. One wrong move and I could lose everything. I’m not about to let that happen.
It’s go time.
I glance in the mirror and cringe. In order to pull this off, I had to chop off my hair. I’ve always kept it long, sometimes to my waist but always past my shoulder blades. Angelina keeps hers shoulder length. I actually shed silent tears as the scissors sliced through my locks. I can still hear the snip of metal on metal.
The sound will haunt my nightmares for years to come.
But it’s a small price to pay for being able to live the life I’ve always deserved. The life that should’ve been mine to begin with but was denied me.
Hair grows back. Once I become Angelina London, I can grow it out again. Say it’s time for a change. Chances are, Peter will love it. What guy doesn’t love long locks to run his fingers through? By the time my plan is complete, he’ll be a much happier man. He won’t even question the changes in his wife because he’ll love them so much.
He’ll never want to let go of me. I’ll make sure of that.
Today, Phase Two of my grand plan begins.
Phase One was all about learning. It was tedious, and I’ve been itching to act. But I couldn’t leave even a the tiniest space for error. If I didn’t get the studying and note-taking done right, the rest was sure to fall apart.
I won’t let that happen. So, I’ve spent more time than necessary gathering everything I need. I know more about Angie than she knows about herself. Actually, I need to stop thinking of her as Angie—which I know she would hate—because nobody calls her that. Even when she was a child, she went by her full name.
It grates on my nerves to think of her as Angelina, but knowing thatIwill soon be Angelina is enough to soothe my frayed nerves. She’ll either start over, or she can take my identity. I don’t care which, but she’d be better off with a fresh start. No one would want to take on the debts left to me.
I tap the steering wheel from across the street of the Londons’ enormous house. The garage door should open soon, and she’ll pull out her shiny Escalade with her two perfect younger children in the backseat. The two older ones already left on the bus, which was my cue that Angie—I mean, Angelina—will be off soon.
A jogger runs by, and I duck down without thinking. I’m used to driving my old clunker, which would stick out like a sore thumb in this hoity-toity neighborhood. But I’m not in the rusty, scraped up burnt-orange Pinto. I’m in a white soccer-mom minivan that I nabbed before leaving my old life behind. The van was abandoned by a family not unlike the Londons, after someone put a small dent in the back bumper. I’m pretty sure they’re now driving an Escalade, too, and don’t even miss this van. But even if they do notice, a switch of the plates has so far kept anyone from figuring out this vehicle is actually stolen. I’m ready to leave it behind with a moment’s notice if anyone grows suspicious.
After the jogger turns down another street, I sit back up just in time to see the Londons’ garage door rise up. That Escalade is so tacky, but I’m sure I can get used to it. It probably has features like heated seats and a push-button start. This minivan has a lot more features than I’m used to, but that SUV is sure to be even more luxurious.
My pulse races as my twin’s car backs onto the street then heads out of the neighborhood.
It’s go time.
ChapterTwenty-Nine
Following my sister around has been the most boring part of Phase One. The woman seriously does nothing exciting. But that’ll change once I take over her life. I’ll have to do that subtly, of course, so as not to make anyone suspicious.
I don’t understand how she can do so little when she was given so much. If I had all the advantages she was given, I’d be living it up. She doesn’t even know what she could’ve ended up with if our situations were reversed.
It doesn’t matter. The scales will tip the right way soon enough. I’ll be swimming in money and waking up next to her hot, successful husband every morning. It hardly seems possible, but it’s within my grasp. Assuming I play this right—and I will—then everything she takes for granted will be mine. All mine. She isn’t grateful and deserves to lose it, all of it. I will have her husband, her kids, her house, her car, her money.
Once she realizes everything she’s lost, it’ll be too late. I’ll be so far dug into her life, she’ll never be able to get me out. People won’t even believe she’s who she says she is. We share the same DNA, after all. I’m her, and she’s me.
