MY DAUGHTER RIPPED OFF THE BRIDE’S VEIL—AND REVEALED HER TWIN SISTER’S SICK PLOT

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2 | PART 2: THE SISTER CHLOE NEVER TALKED ABOUT

The police separated us before I could get an answer.

Two officers escorted Claire through the center aisle while our guests watched in stunned silence.

Her borrowed veil remained crumpled beside the altar.

One shoe had disappeared somewhere during her attempt to run.

The wedding dress dragged across the marble behind her.

It was grotesque.

A bride being arrested at the wedding she had tried to steal.

Claire didn't fight.

She didn't cry.

She kept looking back at Chloe.

Not at me.

Not until she reached the doors.

Then she smiled at me.

"Ask her about Boston."

The doors closed.

I turned to Chloe.

"What happened in Boston?"

She lowered her eyes.

"Not here."

That answer frightened me almost as much as Claire had.

Paramedics examined Chloe in a side room.

Her wrists were bruised where Claire had tied them.

There was a small cut above her eyebrow.

No concussion.

No broken bones.

Physically, she was going to be all right.

Emotionally, she looked shattered.

Lily sat beside her, holding her hand.

"I'm sorry I ripped the veil," Lily whispered.

Chloe's face crumpled.

She pulled Lily into her arms.

"Never apologize for that."

"But I ruined the wedding."

"No."

Chloe kissed the top of her head.

"You saved it."

I stood by the window, watching them.

Saved it.

The word felt strange.

There had been no wedding.

Father Daniel had quietly sent everyone home.

My mother had taken Lily downstairs for something to eat.

Police were interviewing the wedding party.

Outside, guests were still gathered on the church steps, whispering and calling relatives.

By evening, everyone we knew would know.

I didn't care.

I needed to understand one thing.

How had a woman nearly replaced my fiancée without me knowing?

When Lily finally left with my mother, I closed the door.

Chloe was sitting on a small couch wrapped in a gray emergency blanket.

I sat opposite her.

"Tell me."

She stared at her hands.

"Claire and I are identical twins."

"I know that much."

"No. You know we look alike."

She swallowed.

"You don't know what being identical meant in our family."

I waited.

"When we were little, people treated us like a trick. Teachers confused us. Relatives confused us. Our parents dressed us alike because they thought it was cute. Claire loved it."

"And you?"

"I hated it."

She looked up.

"Claire learned very early that if she copied my voice and mannerisms, people couldn't tell us apart."

A chill moved across my skin.

"She pretended to be you?"

"At first it was harmless. She'd answer attendance for me. Switch seats at dinner. Talk to boys who had crushes on me."

"That's not harmless."

"We were children."

"You said 'at first.'"

Chloe nodded.

"When we got older, she stopped treating it like a game."

She told me about high school.

Claire would borrow Chloe's clothes without permission.

Answer messages on her phone.

Pretend to be her when talking to teachers.

Once, when Chloe was sixteen, Claire took her driver's permit and convinced a cashier she was Chloe.

Their parents punished her.

Claire laughed.

"Why?"

"Because she could."

That answer was too simple.

I must have shown it on my face.

Chloe sighed.

"Claire always thought I got the better version of our shared life."

"Meaning?"

"Better grades. More friends. Dad trusted me more. Mom and I were closer. Claire thought everyone compared us."

"Did they?"

"Sometimes."

She rubbed her wrists.

"I didn't realize how deeply she hated it until college."

"Boston?"

Her eyes lifted.

I remembered Claire's last words.

Ask her about Boston.

Chloe nodded.

"We both went to college there. Different schools, but close enough that we still saw each other. I started dating someone."

I felt an irrational flicker of jealousy, then hated myself for it.

"What happened?"

"Claire pretended to be me."

"With him?"

"Yes."

The room suddenly seemed colder.

"How far did it go?"

"Far enough."

I leaned back.

"Jesus."

"I found out because he mentioned a restaurant I'd never been to. At first I thought he was cheating and lying about it. Then he showed me pictures."

Chloe's voice trembled.

"Pictures of Claire dressed like me."

"What did Claire say?"

"That she wanted to know whether he could tell the difference."

"And he couldn't."

"No."

"Did you stay with him?"

"Of course not."

"Did you go to the police?"

"For what? She hadn't stolen money. She hadn't signed legal documents. I was nineteen, humiliated, and terrified people would think I was making it up."

"So what happened?"

"Our parents intervened. Claire started therapy. I transferred schools."

"And then?"

"For a while, she got better."

Chloe looked toward the closed door.

"Or I thought she did."

I stood and walked to the window.

There were so many things I wanted to ask that I couldn't choose one.

Finally I turned.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Her eyes filled with tears.

"Because I was ashamed."

"You were ashamed of what she did?"

"Of all of it."

"You let me meet her twice without telling me she had a history of impersonating you."

"I know."

"We have a child in our home, Chloe."

"I know."

"Lily trusts you."

"I know!"

Her voice broke.

She covered her face.

I immediately regretted shouting.

But regret didn't erase the truth.

"I needed to know."

"I was afraid."

"Of Claire?"

"Of you."

That silenced me.

Chloe lowered her hands.

"I thought if I told you my identical twin once slept with my boyfriend while pretending to be me, you'd look at me differently forever."

"I would've protected you."

"You say that now."

"I would have."

She looked down.

"I wanted one part of my life that wasn't contaminated by her."

That I understood.

More than I wanted to.

I sat beside her.

"How did she get into the church?"

Chloe inhaled slowly.

"This morning I got a message."

"From Claire?"

"No. From Mom's number."

Chloe's mother had died eighteen months earlier.

I stared at her.

"What?"

"It said, 'I wish I could see you today.'"

I felt goosebumps rise along my arms.

"I knew it wasn't possible. Obviously. But for one second..."

She shook her head.

"I thought maybe Dad had found Mom's old phone and sent something accidentally. I called the number. Claire answered."

"What did she say?"

"She was outside."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Because she said she wanted to apologize."

I closed my eyes.

"Chloe."

"I know."

"After everything?"

"She was my sister."

That was the tragedy of it.

Not stupidity.

Hope.

The kind people keep offering family long after family has stopped deserving it.

"What happened?"

"I went to the side entrance. Claire was there wearing ordinary clothes. She said she'd been sober for eight months and had been in therapy. She said Mom's death made her realize how much time we'd wasted."

Chloe's voice became thin.

"She was crying."

"And you believed her."

"I wanted to."

"What happened next?"

"She hugged me."

Chloe touched the cut above her eyebrow.

"Then I felt something hit the side of my head."

My jaw tightened.

"When I woke up, I was in the sacristy."

"Tied?"

"Yes."