Chapter 4

The next morning, Karen and Jessie were in a flurry of activity. Suitcases were packed, Jessie preening in front of the mirror, already imagining herself at Stanford.

They were planning to drive Jessie to a nearby city and put her on a plane, armed with my forged documents and my acceptance letter.

I waited until they were loading the car in the driveway.

Then, I walked out.

"Going somewhere?" I asked, my voice calm.

Karen whirled around, her face instantly hostile. "None of your business, Sarah. Go back inside."

Jessie smirked. "Yeah, loser. Go cry in your room."

"Actually," I said, pulling out my phone, "it is my business. Because you're about to commit fraud, identity theft, and a few other felonies. And I'm not going to let that happen."

I dialed 911.

"Hello, police? I'd like to report a crime in progress."

Karen' s face went pale, then purple with rage. "How dare you!" she hissed, lunging for my phone.

I stepped back. "Stay away from me, Karen."

Neighbors started to peek out of their windows, drawn by the commotion. This was exactly what I wanted. A public stage.

"She' s crazy!" Jessie shrieked, pointing at me. "She' s jealous! She' s trying to steal my place at Stanford!"

Karen immediately switched tactics, her face crumpling into a mask of maternal grief. Tears welled in her eyes.

"Oh, my poor Sarah," she wailed, loud enough for the gathering neighbors to hear. "She' s not well. She' s always been so jealous of her sister' s successes. Jessie got into Stanford, and Sarah just can' t handle it!"

She clutched her chest dramatically. "She' s trying to ruin Jessie' s life! Look!"

Karen fumbled in her purse and pulled out a sheaf of photos – the same digitally altered pictures of "me" at wild parties. "This is what she' s really like! Promiscuous, unstable! She even tried to pass these off as Jessie!"

A murmur went through the small crowd of onlookers. Some looked at me with suspicion, others with pity for "poor" Karen.

Ashley then chose her moment to arrive, as if on cue. She rushed to Karen' s side.

"It' s true!" Ashley declared, her voice ringing with false sincerity. "I' ve seen Sarah' s behavior. She' s been acting erratically for months. These photos... I was there. That' s definitely Sarah. She' s just trying to sabotage Jessie!"

The tide of public opinion was turning against me. I saw the judgment in their eyes.

Karen smiled triumphantly through her tears. Jessie looked smug.

This was the moment from my first life, the moment my world had shattered.

But this time, I was ready.

I met Karen' s gaze, my own calm and steady. "Are you done with your performance, Mom?"

Just then, a sleek black car pulled up to the curb with a screech of tires.

A woman stormed out, her face a thundercloud. Brenda Rickman.

She marched straight towards Karen, a stack of photographs clutched in her hand.

"Karen Miller!" Brenda' s voice was like a whip crack. "You home-wrecking slut!"

Karen' s jaw dropped. The triumphant smile vanished.

Brenda didn't wait for an answer. She slapped Karen across the face, hard. Then she threw the photographs at her. They scattered across the driveway. Photos of Karen and Rick, entwined, at that cheap motel.

"My husband? You think you can steal my husband?" Brenda screamed.

Karen cowered, her carefully constructed image shattering before the eyes of our neighbors. The public scene she' d orchestrated was now her own humiliation.