Chapter 2: She Was Supposed to Be Gone
She was sitting in the corner chair, holding a paper cup of water with both hands.
Same face.
Same dark eyes.
Same small scar above her left eyebrow from when we were nine years old and she fell off her bike.
My legs stopped working.
"Clara?" My voice came out as barely a whisper.
She looked up — and the moment she saw me, her face crumpled.
"Sarah." She stood so fast the cup fell.
"I'm so sorry.
I'm so sorry.
I didn't know how to—"
"You d*ed." The words came out flat.
"We buried you.
Mom cried every day for two years.
She's g*ne now, Clara.
She never got over losing you."
Clara flinched like I'd struck her.
"I know," she whispered.
"I know."
"Then explain it to me." My hands were shaking.
"Right now.
Explain every single year."
She glanced at the receptionist, then back at me.
Her voice dropped so low I had to lean in.
"Not here.
Please.
There are people who still don't know I'm alive — and if the wrong person finds out before I'm ready…" She grabbed my wrist.
"Sarah, I was running from someone.
I had no choice."
My throat tightened.
"Running from who?"
She opened her mouth — and then her eyes moved to the window behind me.
Her face went white.
"We need to leave," she said.
"Right now."
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What Clara said next — and who she was running from — will change everything you think you know.
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