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Don’t Trust Her

Am I losing my mind, or does someone want me to think I am?

After a traumatic childhood shadowed by an institutionalized brother, I’ve finally created a picture-perfect life with my doting husband and four beautiful children. But behind the white picket fence, darkness looms.

Strangers claim to see me in places I wasn’t, doing things I would never do. Can I even trust my own mind with a family history of mental instability? As I race for answers, my life spirals out of control.

I suspect someone is plotting to steal my very identity. Then a shocking family secret points to a cruel deception that could shatter everything I know.

Who is behind this relentless game of deceit? The truth could destroy all I’ve built.

With my children suddenly missing, I need to get to the bottom of this fast.

I must confront the sinister forces threatening my family, whatever the cost might be… even if it means my sanity.

Or my life itself.

Excerpt

The smell of bleach nearly knocks me over as I walk through the school’s main door. I let it slam behind me, too busy covering my mouth as I cough. My nose burns and my eyes water. Someone must’ve emptied an entire bottle right here.

“Sorry!” Emily waves at me from behind the counter as she tucks some braided hair behind her ear. “Our new hire accidentally spilled bleach a few minutes ago.”

I clear my throat and blink away the tears. “It isn’t that bad.”

She glances at her computer screen. “Did you forget something, Angelina?”

“Forget something? I’m here to pick up my kids.”

Emily stares at me. “You already got Sophie and Owen.”

The fumes must be getting to her head. Clearly I haven’t picked up my children, or they’d be with me. I haven’t seen them since I dropped them off this morning. “Maybe your new hire accidentally marked them as signed out. I assure you, I didn’t get them.”

“There was no mistake. I checked them out personally.”

My lungs deflate. I can’t find my voice.

This can’t be happening.

“Are you okay, Mrs. London?”

I lean against the counter for support. Manage to force words past a lump in my throat. “Are you saying Owen and Sophie aren’t here?”

Her eyes widen, and she looks at me like she’s worried I might flip my lid.

She isn’t wrong—if she allowed someone to leave with my babies.

“Well?” I stare her down.

Emily swallows. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but you were here twenty minutes ago and took them with you.”

I take a deep breath and struggle to remain calm. “If that happened, don’t you think I’d remember? I’m going to get them myself.”

Emily leaps from her chair. “I should get Jennifer.”

“Do you think the manager knows where my children are? Because if she does, please get her. I’d love nothing more than to speak with her.”

“Stay right there. Don’t move.” She stares at me, obviously waiting for me to agree. Does she think I’m going to set the building on fire?

“Okay.”

She gives me a side-eye glance before scurrying around the corner and into the office behind the reception desk. The blinds aren’t properly closed, so I can see her and the manager talking. Emily points in my direction.

Jennifer glances at me then picks up the phone.

What’s going on? Is she calling security on me? Has the receptionist convinced her I’ve lost my mind?

They’re going to lose their license if they sent my children home with the wrong person. How could Emily think I picked them up? The woman has clearly lost her marbles.

Based on the way they keep looking at me, they think I have.

Jennifer starts speaking into the receiver.

This is too much. I can’t stand around waiting another moment. I need to see Owen and Sophie’s classrooms for myself. For all I know, they’re still in there.

I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around them and tell them how much I love them.

Jennifer glances my way one more time.

That’s it. I’ve had enough.

I bolt down the hall to my son’s pre-kindergarten classroom, press my nose against the window, peer through the glass. The room is bustling, full of kids who are reading, drawing, playing. One little girl works on a puzzle at a table. A boy sits in the corner, building a tower with blocks.

Owen isn’t in there. I double-check. Triple-check.

My baby isn’t in his class.

Acid churns in my stomach. I wish I hadn’t had that shrimp sandwich for lunch. More than that, I wish I really had picked up my kids twenty minutes ago.

I need to check Sophie’s classroom, not that she’s likely to be there. If Owen’s gone, then she must be, too.

My heart pounds so loudly, I can’t hear anything else.

Whoever took them will pay. I’ll see to that personally.

Jennifer and Emily cut off my path. I’m determined to get past them. The classroom for the three-year-olds is on the other side of the reception desk. Must get there.

“Please calm down.” Jennifer holds up a hand.

“I need to see Sophie’s class.”

“She isn’t there. You picked her up.”

“No, I did not.” I narrow my eyes. “Move out of my way.”

Jennifer doesn’t budge. “I can’t do that, I’m sorry. Would you like to come into my office so we can try to figure out what happened?”

I know exactly what happened. These people let a stranger walk out of here with my children, and now we’re wasting valuable time.

We should be looking for them!