I stared.
That wasn’t my name.
My name was Emily Carter.
I flipped through the papers.
The photographs were of me.
But the documents belonged to someone else.
Then I saw the date.
March 4, 1997.
My birthday.
Except the birth certificate listed another girl.
A girl named Emily Hart.
I dropped the papers.
Someone had used my identity.
But why?
Then I found a second folder.
This one contained a photograph.
Two little girls.
Twins.
One was me.
The other had my face.
My exact face.
Underneath the photograph was a handwritten note:
EMILY AND ELENA — BORN 1997.
I couldn’t breathe.
There had been two of us.
My father had told me I was an only child.
My mother had told me the same.
Someone had erased her.
Then I heard footsteps.
I spun around.
Rosalyn stood in the doorway.
She looked exhausted.
Older.
Broken.
“Now you know.”
