Chapter 2 - SEVEN MONTHS EARLIERBefore Vanessa tried to kill me, she asked me to save her.
Not because the conductor saw me.
Because Vanessa did.
My sister stood beneath twenty thousand dollars’ worth of white roses in the Saint Aurelia Ballroom, one hand wrapped around a crystal bouquet, the other resting against the chest of the man who had once promised to marry me.
Grant Mercer.
Seven months ago, he had slipped a diamond ring onto my finger beside Lake Michigan and told me there was no future he wanted unless I was in it.
Today, he was marrying my sister.
And everyone in the ballroom believed I was dead.
I understood why.
My hair had been shaved away from the worst burns along the left side of my scalp. Hospital gauze wrapped my shoulder, ribs, and forearms. A compression sleeve covered the skin graft along my right hand. Beneath an oversized gray coat, I still wore the pale blue hospital gown I had left rehabilitation in that morning.
I had walked three blocks barefoot after the cab driver refused to take me through the barricade outside the hotel.
Every step hurt.
But I kept walking.
Seven months of pain had taught me something.
Pain could stop being a warning.
Eventually, it became fuel.
A woman near the aisle gasped.
Someone dropped a champagne glass.
Then I heard my aunt whisper my name.
“Claire?”
That single word moved through the ballroom faster than fire.
Claire Bennett.
Claire Bennett is alive.
My mother, Eleanor, rose from the front row so suddenly her chair toppled backward.
She stared at me as though I had crawled out of my own grave.
Vanessa did not move.
For one beautiful second, the mask slipped completely.
Her lips parted.
Her bouquet shook.
And the smile she had practiced for photographers disappeared.
“No,” she whispered.
I kept walking.
Grant turned.
The color drained from his face.
“Claire?”
My throat still hurt from smoke damage. The doctors had warned me not to raise my voice.
I didn’t need to.
The room had become so quiet they could hear my bandages brushing my coat.
“Hello, Grant.”
He stepped down from the altar.
Vanessa grabbed his wrist.
“Don’t.”
That word told me more than any confession could have.
Grant looked at her.
“Why shouldn’t I?”
Vanessa recovered quickly.
She always had.
“She isn’t Claire.”
A murmur swept across the guests.
Vanessa pointed at me, forcing a laugh that sounded brittle.
“This is disgusting. Whoever hired this woman should be ashamed. My sister died in the Whitmore Lake fire seven months ago.”
I reached the front pew.
My knees nearly gave out, but I held myself upright.
“You were always a terrible liar when you were scared, Vanessa.”
Her expression froze.
I reached beneath my coat and pulled out a tarnished silver necklace.
A tiny crescent moon hung from the chain.
Vanessa’s eyes dropped to it.
When we were children, our grandmother had given us matching necklaces. Mine had a moon.
Vanessa’s had a star.
Only four people knew Grandma had engraved words on the backs.
I turned mine over.
Grant leaned closer.
He read aloud.
“Find your way home.”
My mother covered her mouth.
Vanessa whispered, “Anyone could have copied that.”
I looked at her.
“Then maybe they copied the scar above my left knee from when you pushed me off Grandpa’s dock when I was eleven.”
Vanessa’s face tightened.
“Or maybe they know you slept with the hallway light on until you were sixteen because Dad once told you the basement ghost would collect selfish children.”
A few guests laughed nervously.
I didn’t.
“Maybe they know you broke Mom’s emerald bracelet when you were nineteen and hid the pieces inside my winter boots.”
“Stop.”
“Maybe they know exactly what you said to me the night of the fire.”
Vanessa went still.
Grant looked from her to me.
“What fire?”
I stared at my sister.
She knew.
I knew.
And now she understood why I had walked into her wedding instead of going to the police first.
I wanted her frightened.
I wanted her wondering how much I remembered.
Vanessa’s voice dropped.
“Claire, you’re confused.”
There it was.
Not she isn’t Claire.
Not anymore.
Grant heard it too.
His head snapped toward her.
“You just called her Claire.”
Vanessa released his wrist.
“I—”
The ballroom doors opened behind me.
Two uniformed detectives entered with a woman in a navy suit.
Vanessa’s gaze darted toward them.
Then toward the side exit.
I smiled for the first time.
“Don’t run, Vanessa.”
My sister looked at me with naked terror.
I took one more painful step.
“You already tried killing me once.”
Gasps erupted around us.
Grant whispered, “What?”
Vanessa shook her head violently.
“She’s insane.”
“Maybe.”
I reached inside my coat again.
This time I pulled out a blackened phone sealed inside an evidence bag.
Vanessa stopped breathing.
I held it where she could see.
“But dead women aren’t supposed to recover recordings from burning houses, are they?”
The detective approached.
Vanessa’s bouquet slipped from her fingers.
White roses scattered across the marble.
May you like
And beneath the altar where my sister had planned the beginning of her perfect life, I watched her realize her nightmare had just walked through the door.
Alive.
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