Kennedy had left at the age of twelve and been off the grid for years with the exception of a few phone calls. Then six years later, Kennedy had reached out to Deven on social media, and . . . someone had returned to their lives. But that someone apparently hadn’t been Kennedy. Which meant this woman—this stranger—she was talking to had been pretending to be her sister. Deven’s mind clicked through the contents of the shoe boxes back at Kennedy’s apartment. IDs, money, passports, credit cards, identities. Was that what this had been all this time? This con artist using Kennedy’s identity?

“Who . . . who are you?” Deven whispered, her whole body quivering now in anticipation of the answer she dreaded to hear.

Now the woman’s smile was triumphant as she sat down and extended her hand. “I’m Erika’s daughter April,” she greeted with phony enthusiasm. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Deven.”

Chapter Thirty-one

Chapter Thirty-one

She couldn’t breathe. Everything hurt and it felt like someone had taken lit matches to her lungs as she panted, struggling to gulp in enough air. The edges of her vision darkened like a sordid vignette until all she saw was the devilish glint in this woman’s eye. This woman, not Kennedy. Not her sister. Never was. Deven had been propelled into a state of delirium where her truth was ethereal within its own suffering.

April threw up her hands in a presto-type of motion as if she’d just performed the greatest magic trick. “I know it’s kind of hard to process,” she said beginning to mosey around the room. “And I didn’t expect you to ever find out. Hell, it was going good until Kennedy got in the way.”

“My—my sister?” Deven heaved, that flame igniting even more. It hurt so bad and all she wanted to do was scream.