The basement felt colder than I remembered.
I led Nova down the narrow wooden stairs, flipping on the light as I forced myself to stay calm.
She smiled politely.
“Where do you keep the wine?”
“On that shelf,” I replied.
She walked toward the rack while I quietly pulled out my phone.
My hands trembled as I dialed Clarice.
She answered on the second ring.
“Antoinette?”
“I need you to answer one question.”
“What’s wrong?”
“The woman who scammed your son… if you saw her today, would you recognize her?”
There was a pause.
“I’d never forget her face.”
“I think she’s standing in my basement.”
Clarice gasped.
“What?”
“My son’s fiancée.”
“Oh my God.”
“I deleted the picture you sent months ago.”
“I still have it.”
“Please send it.”
“I’ll send it right now.”
Seconds later my phone buzzed.
I opened the message.
There it was.
The woman in the photograph looked almost identical to Nova.
Same smile.
Same eyes.
Same delicate jawline.
Only the hair color was different.
My heart raced.
This had to be her.
I looked up.
Nova had noticed the expression on my face.
“Is everything okay?” she asked softly.
I swallowed.
“No.”
She froze.
“I know who you are.”
Her face lost all color.
For a long moment neither of us spoke.
Then she whispered…
“You think I’m someone else.”
“I think you’re the woman who stole thousands of dollars from my friend’s son.”
She slowly closed her eyes.
“I was afraid this day would come.”
My stomach tightened.
“So it’s true?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Then explain.”
She took a deep breath before speaking.
“My name isn’t the woman in that picture.”
“But that’s your face.”
“No,” she replied quietly.
“It’s my twin sister.”
I stared at her.
“…What?”
“I have an identical twin.”
I blinked.
Clarice had never mentioned a twin.
“I haven’t spoken to my sister in almost three years.”
I searched her face for any sign she was lying.
Instead…
I saw tears.
“My sister’s name is Nora.”
“My name is Nova.”
“We’re identical.”
“When we were children our own grandparents couldn’t tell us apart.”
I didn’t know what to believe.
She continued.
“When we were nineteen, Nora started getting involved with dangerous people.”
“She borrowed money.”
“Lied.”
“Manipulated people.”
“Our parents tried everything.”
“Nothing worked.”
“Eventually she disappeared.”
“And she began using different names.”
I folded my arms.
“Convenient story.”
“I know.”
“But it’s true.”
She reached into her purse.
“My driver’s license.”
“My passport.”
“Everything.”
The names matched.
Birth certificate copies.
Old family photographs.
One picture showed two identical little girls standing beside each other wearing matching dresses.
On the back someone had written:
Nova and Nora — Age 7.
