Double Bluff Early Release

Evil twins are supposed to be something out of a bad fantasy novel, but not for me.

My mirror is a monster. A gaslighting narcissist who framed me for an act of bullying so vicious, our mother threw me out of the house and snatched my inheritance from me on the way out the door.

Ten years later, Mother is dying, and my life is a disaster. My apartment is a shithole. I'm thousands of dollars in debt, and my boss says if I quit, or dump him, he'll show the world the "videos" we made when I thought I was in love with the bastard.

One day, my sister shows up at my crappy apartment, begging me to come back and fulfill Mother's wish of seeing me one final time. I gave in. I got in her car.

That was my first mistake.

The deer came out of nowhere. There wasn't even time to brake.

I woke up hours later bleeding, broken, and sitting next to a dead body.

I panicked... then I had an idea.

When the cops arrived, I was alone. They looked through the purse in the back. They read the registration. They asked me if I was my sister, and I said yes.

That was my second mistake.

That night, the police drove me to the mansion on the hill. Inside, my sister's husbands, each more gorgeous and heart-breakingly charming than the last, welcomed me as their wife. My sister's daughter hugged and called me Mommy. My mother smiled at me, looking at me as her perfect child, and not the one she threw away.

And just like that, I took her life like my sister took mine. I stepped into the role of perfect wife, mother, and daughter, and that...

...that was the mistake that killed us all.

Chapter One

“The trapdoor was sabotaged. When Colin stood on it, it gave way and he fell eight feet… onto the small steel pipe sticking out of the floor—”

“Ms. Kim—”

“It impaled him through the throat,” I cried. “He’s been paralyzed from the neck down ever since, changing the course of his life forever. And mine.”

“Ms. Kim, I—”

“But it turned out students had been sneaking under the stage to smoke, drink, and hook up for years, so a couple months before it happened, the headmaster had the whole place rigged with cameras. And when they checked those cameras, who did they see sneaking around under the stage, messing with the trapdoor?

“Me!” I burst out, making him jump. “He saw me, except it wasn’t me! It was Sue. She sabotaged the stage. She nearly killed Colin. And she set me up to fall for it, knowing that no one was going to believe it was the fault of my evil fucking twin.”

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I understand that—”

“Do you?” I sliced in. “Do you understand that the headmaster grilled me for hours? Demanding to know what possible reason my sister would have for entering the grounds of a school she didn’t even go to, just to play a vicious prank on a guy she didn’t even know? A guy who just happened to be beating me out for valedictorian?

“He didn’t believe a word out of my mouth,” I scoffed. “And it didn’t help that my own mother sat in his office and said my accusations were ridiculous. Sue was across town working on her lessons with her math tutor. She was never anywhere near Titan Prep.

“I tried to tell them that she absolutely could and would do those horrible things. That any alibi she gave was false and coerced, and that Soo Min Kim is the most evil, manipulative, cold-hearted bitch that ever walked the face of the earth. I told them,” I cried, speaking over another attempt to interrupt me, “that only a few days before Colin’s accident, Sue cornered me coming out of my room.

“She hissed at me that I didn’t deserve my acceptance to Yale. That I only got in because I forced Omma to send me to a different, and better, high school. I got to ‘cheat’ my way to the top without her there to outshine me, and if it wasn’t for that, she’d be going to Yale and not me.

“I dismissed her as the jealous bitch she was, but—but I should’ve known,” I rasped, voice cracking, “that Sue always gets the last word.”

“Ms. Kim, please—”

“The headmaster expelled me,” I whispered, eyes stinging, “Yale rescinded my acceptance. No other college would take me, and then Colin’s family sued ours.

“Omma paid them everything they asked out of my trust and college funds. Then, she threw me out.” My voice was dead. “The shame was too much for her. She wanted nothing to do with me. And just like that… my life was over.”

“Ms. Kim,” he said gently. “I truly am very sorry for what happened to you, but, I confess, I don’t understand why you’re telling me this.”

I looked around the small, but cheerful office. Bright, blue walls enveloped us instead of clinical white. Everywhere I looked, there were adorable child-made drawings, and pictures of the babies who grew up to draw them.

“I’m telling you this, Dr. Cormac, because every dream I’ve ever had has been stolen from me. Every single one, except this one. I’ve wanted kids since I was a kid, and I’m tired of waiting. Tired of waiting for my life to start. Tired of waiting for permission to be happy. I want to do this,” I pressed, “but I can’t for thirty thousand dollars.”

I waved the price sheet he handed me in the air. “IVF cannot possibly cost this much.”

“I’m afraid it does.”

“But—but there must be payment plans,” I cried.

“There are—”

“Great,” I pounced. “I’ll do that—”

“—for those with a credit score of seven hundred or higher. Your score is four hundred and two.”

I bit my lip hard, refusing to deflate like the hopes he just popped a hole in. “Please,” I said when I trusted myself. “There has to be something you can do.”

“Well, we haven’t discussed IUI.” Dr. Cormac was as kind as his gentle green eyes, and the smile that was never far from his lips. That’s why I chose him as my doctor. I could hear in his voice that he wanted to help me. “The costs for IUI are greatly reduced. We charge only one thousand two hundred per cycle.”

I was shaking my head before he finished. “I can’t do IUI. One of my tubes is blocked, and the other is badly scarred from the endometriosis. IVF is my only real option.”

“I’m so sorry, forgive me.” He flipped quickly through my file. “I didn’t see that in your file.”

“Because the last doctor I went to would’ve been better off selling snake oil behind a donkey’s ass.”

He barked a startled laugh.

“He was completely disorganized, unreliable, and not good about updating patient files,” I said, flapping my hand at the papers. “That’s why I spent money I don’t have for this consultation with you. You’re the best fertility doctor in three counties. There must be something you can do for me.”

He smiled softly. “You flatter me, Ms. Kim, and believe me when I say that I want to help you, but it appears that IVF is simply something that you cannot afford at this time. When your financial situation changes, please return. When you do, I swear to you that no matter how busy my schedule is, I will make time for you.

“I’ll help you make this dream come true.”

“But—”

“I’m afraid that’s all we have time for today.” He rose out of his seat. “Allow me to escort you to the door.”

Abrupt. Direct. Not unkind, but firm. No doubt the tone and dismissal he used on many a person or couple that came in here hoping that a sob story would persuade him not to force them to mortgage their home for their future.

Swallowing my protests, I turned off my recorder, stood, and let him walk me out the door.

My wedges hit the sidewalk by the time my phone went off. I declined the call without even looking at it, trudging to my car. The 1987 Dodge Charger was a sleek, black beauty back in its day.

But now it was a dented, rusted-over piece of crap that groaned every time I turned the key. Loud and clear it demanded to know why I wouldn’t let it fall apart in peace, but it wasn’t allowed to take the easy way out.

That car was the only thing I was allowed to take when Omma threw me out. She barely let me have the clothes on my back, and even those weren’t left unscathed. I rubbed my throat, slowing down as I was thrown back to the night Omma ripped my shirt tearing Halmeoni’s necklace from my neck.

She had no right to it. My grandmother left me that necklace in her will, but when I unwisely made that argument, my mother slapped me so hard across the face, my head nearly popped off.

I wasn’t worthy of Halmeoni’s necklace. I wasn’t worthy to walk the halls where she once lived. And I wasn’t worthy to stand before her then, crying about what I was entitled to after shaming myself and my family in the most hideous way.

All of that my mother screamed at me… as my sister watched from the shadows—laughing.

I ripped out of the memory when my phone went off again. Checking the screen, I bit off a curse and accepted the call—hitting record before I said a word.

“What.”

His oily, skin-crawling laugh oozed through the phone. “Now, now, Sarah. Is that any way to answer your boss? I would’ve thought I’m so sorry, Dan, please tell me what I can do to make it up to you would’ve been much more appropriate considering you’re three hours late for your shift.”

I continued to my car, riffling around in my bag for my keys. “So fire me.”

“I’m not doing that. And you wouldn’t want me to do that.”

I tensed. “What wouldn’t I want you to do, Dan? Release sex tapes we made when we were dating and I thought we were in love—”

“We’re still dating and we’re still in love.”

“No, we’re not! We haven’t been since I walked in on you screwing the line cook!”

“I apologized for that a dozen times.”

“No, you didn’t,” I hissed. “You said I’m sorry you had to see that and I’m sorry you were hurt.”

“Exactly.”

“No, not exactly, dumbass. We’ve been through that a dozen times, and I’ve got the recordings to prove it, so cut it out with your gaslighting garbage. Fake-ass apologies like that put all the responsibility on me for what happened, instead of on you.”

“Fine, then I take all the responsibility. I’m sorry. End of sentence,” he said. “We good?”

If I could’ve reached through the phone and punched him, the dickhead would be missing five teeth. “Okay, yes, fine,” I gritted. “We’re good. Apology accepted. Now we can break up and move on from each other with no hard feelings.”

“If that happens, then I’ve got no reason to keep these little home videos we made to myself.”

I tossed my head. “It amazes me how you have no shame over blackmailing me, even when you know I’m recording every word you say. Danny boy, if you release those videos, I’ll sue you for everything you have. The judge won’t be too sympathetic when she listens to my home records.”

“True,” he breezed, “but how is the two hundred and twelve dollars I’ve got in my bank account going to lift your spirits when the whole world is watching your flat ass bounce on my lap? The future Little Kim is going to have quite a hard time at school when all the bullies are flashing your tits in their face—”

“Stop!”

“Sure, I’ll stop.” I heard the triumph in his voice clear as day. “As long as you stop being a bitter old hag, and move on from the past. I love you, I made a mistake, it’ll never happen again, so let’s move the fuck on. Deal?”

The word was acid on my tongue. “…deal.”

“Awesome. Then, I’ll see you tonight, baby. My place.”

“Fine.”

“You—”

I hung up, not letting him drip another poisonous word in my ear.

Walking up to my car, I dropped my head on the hood—letting the warmth seep into my skull and banish the oncoming headache.

That evil, fucking, miserable bastard was right. Suing him wouldn’t get back what he planned to steal from me—my privacy, my safety, my last chance to ever make it home. If Omma was shamed by a vicious prank I wasn’t a part of, what would be her reaction to a sex tape I was a part of?

That question didn’t need answering. I already knew.

Standing there slumped over my hunk of crap, the words of another miserable bastard roared in my ear.

“You’re a twenty-eight-year-old waitress making fourteen dollars an hour. You live in a terrible neighborhood, that car you pulled up in is older than you, and you think that you can pay medical bills with sob stories.

“So I’m going to do you a favor and give you what you need more desperately than a baby. A wake-up call.”

I cringed then like I did the first time I heard it.

“You’re not ready to be anyone’s mother, Ms. Kim. Come back when you get your life together.”

Tears stung my eyes as my closing throat strangled a sob. The last fertility doctor was a disorganized, inappropriate, irresponsible jerk, but maybe it was possible… that he wasn’t a liar.

“How can I give a child a good life… when I can’t give one to myself?”

The car hood had no answers for me.

Eventually, I slid myself off and got into the car. Checking in for my shift was a no-go after a morning like that, so instead I drove straight home, letting the slow, sleepy town of Willingsworth dance outside my window.

Willingsworth.

I’d never heard of the place before I broke down in it. After Omma threw me out, I bounced around from place to place, taking any job that would hire a kid that was expelled from high school. When I was twenty-four, I left Chicago and found myself driving east toward home—dreaming of making something of myself in the one and only New York City.

My crappy car got as far as Willingsworth, Nowhere, USA.

I broke down in front of the diner where I made a pit stop, and the sweet couple who owned it offered to get it towed to the auto shop, promising the tow would be free of charge. The next day, when I went to the shop to pick it up, I discovered the same couple also paid the bill.

It had been so long since anyone, anywhere, had shown me any kindness, that I decided I’d stay in Willingsworth—make a real home here.

That was until I met Daniel Mills.

I should’ve known that no matter where you are, or how far you run, you’re never too far from a gaslighting, self-obsessed narcissist.

I also should’ve known nowhere is paradise.

My hometown of Lantana looked like a nice place to live too. Mansions as far as the eye could see, and so many smiling, well-dressed people walking among them. You’d never know that a street over from where I grew up, Nick Russell found out his neighbor drained his bank account because he was planning to use that money to run away with Russell’s wife.

So Russell crossed the lawn and shot both the neighbor and his cheating wife in the face.

Nothing like that had happened in Willingsworth, of course—no doubt because Daniel perfected his cheating game after I walked in on him—but, even so, we weren’t headed anywhere good.

After the bypass was put in and tourists stopped passing through town, all of the businesses and incomes dried up, so a new business had taken over the town. One we all knew about, but never spoke of in public.

Drugs.

I slowed before my turn, eyeing my apartment building looming in the distance.

Nicky loitered on the street corner, expertly faking at being nonchalant while he messed around with his phone—texting his bosses above whether the coast was clear.

Not that clear, I thought, sliding a look in the other direction to my diner.

The same diner that I broke down in front of—owned by the same couple who showed me even more kindness by offering me a job. For a whole year, life was pretty nice.

That was until Maybelle and Charles Mills retired and left the business to their devil spawn.

Now I got to spend my days enduring Dan’s leering while serving two undercover cops who couldn’t remember to leave their badges in the car while they spent all day posted up in the diner across the street from a known drug den.

Sighing, I turned at the green light—heading for my craphole above the drug den.

Parking, I got out of my car, fished out my bag, and climbed the stairs without looking left, right, up, down, or even straight ahead for too long.

One thing I learned the hard way about drug dealers, they’re real fucking paranoid. They don’t like people who stare.

I made it to my apartment unaccosted and shoved inside. Looking around, I sighed for what felt like the fiftieth time in an hour. I was being generous when I called this place a shithole.

The gross, puke-green wallpaper peeled off the walls, revealing the even grosser poop-brown paint underneath. The laminate floors were cracking. There was no hot water in the kitchen. There was something that very much did not like being disturbed living under my sink, and the black mold creeping up my bedroom walls forced me to sleep on my threadbare, falling-apart living room couch.

I tried for something resembling positivity as I changed out of my clothes and began preparing lunch. Setting my phone down on the table, I pressed record, then began my daily mantra.

“I am in control of my life. No one makes me their victim. No one has power over me that I don’t give them. Soon, I will have a job that fulfills me, a home that delights me, a family that loves me, and a love that completes me.”

I repeated that three times while I brought the glass noodles to a boil. By the final time, I almost believed it.

“First, Dr. Cormac didn’t say it was impossible. All he said was I needed to stump up the cash, which I knew,” I cried. “I knew IVF would be expensive, I just didn’t know how expensive. Either way, I was always going to run into this issue, so instead of wallowing, I need to figure out how to make it work.

“There has to be a way I can come up with thirty thousand dollars. Some way… Something…”

I trailed off, letting my mind focus on chopping the vegetables so I could pretend I wasn’t stumped.

“I’ve got to think of something,” I whispered. “This is one dream I can have. I won’t let money of all things stand in my way.”

A knock sounded at the door.

“You’re early.” Setting down the knife, I padded out of the kitchen and unlocked the door. “Lunch isn’t ready, Nicky, but I’m making your favorite,” I tossed over my shoulder as I returned to my meal. “Japchae. And yes, I’m leaving out the mushrooms, but I’m telling you, it doesn’t taste as good without them.”

“I don’t know,” replied a voice that definitely did not belong to a fifteen-year-old boy. “I’m kind of partial to mushroom-free japchae myself.”

I spun around, heart shooting into my throat. Our eyes connected… and I stopped.

My lungs stopped expanding. My heart stopped pumping. My mind held fast—stuck in this one moment and single realization that I was looking at me.

Long, shining, healthy hair flowing past my shoulders. Designer cashmere dress clinging to a body thin and toned from exercise and healthy eating, and not from skipping meals to make rent. Makeup applied with an expert hand. Orange lipstick both bold and suitable in how perfectly it drew attention to my mouth—

—until I looked at that mouth, and saw its smirk.

I snapped back, gasping as air, blood, and sense rushed into me once again—jolting me to reality.

“What the fuck are you doing here!”

Sue hissed, a slight frown cracking her perfect mouth. “Really, Sarah? We haven’t seen each other in ten years, and the first thing you say to me is what the fuck are you doing here? At least give me a hug first.”

She stepped forward and my hand flashed.

Snatching my knife off the cutting board, I brought it up between us so fast, she flung back—nearly colliding with the open door. All trace of her smirk was gone now.

“Fuck’s sake, what are you doing! Put that away!”

“This isn’t any concern of yours”—I flashed the knife—“because you’re turning around and walking out that door.”

“Dammit, Sarah!” She flung her arms down like it pissed her off that I made her throw them up. “I’m not here for this,” she snapped. “I’ve been searching for you for months. I wouldn’t have done that and come all the way here if it wasn’t important.”

“Sucks for you, because I’m not interested.” I tossed the knife back on the cutting board without issue. It wasn’t like I was actually going to kill the bitch in my apartment with my knife covered in my fingerprints. Sue had already ruined my life. I wasn’t going to prison because of her on top of it. “Get out.”

“Just let me say what I came here to—”

“Get out.”

“—you’ll regret it if you throw me out before—”

“Get out!”

Frustration bled into her tone. “This is life or death—”

“GET O—!”

“Omma’s dying,” she shrieked. Sue punched the door and slammed it against the doorjamb—rattling the decayed building. “She’s dying, and she wants to see you before it’s too late! It’s the only thing she wants!”

Her screeching went in one ear and out the other. “Bullshit.” I finished chopping my vegetables and transferred them to the sauté pan. “That woman can’t die. She’ll survive on malice and self-righteousness long after the human race dies out.”

“Witty comeback as usual, Sarah, but this is serious.” I heard cautious footsteps approach the kitchen. “It’s cancer. She was diagnosed a couple years back. We thought she beat it, but then it came back hard. She doesn’t have long, and she knows it.”

I said nothing—engrossed in my cooking.

“She wants to see you before it’s too late.”

Silence.

“She’s our mother,” Sue cried. “The only parent we’ve got left— The only family we’ve got left other than each other. I tell you she’s dying and all you can do is stand there playing with your noodles?”

Still, I said nothing. I didn’t so much as lift my head.

“What is wrong with you!” A rough hand spun me around. “Do you think I’m lying or—”

“Yes.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Yes. I think you’re lying through your bleached teeth. You forget that I know you, Sue. I do,” I hissed, “and that’s why you’ve always hated me. Everyone else has looked at you and seen the pretty, sweet, charming person you’ve always pretended to be, but me…”

She backed away, expression hardening.

“I know you’re nothing but a monster in a candy-coated shell.” I flicked her forehead, making her jerk. “And you’re already starting to crack.”

Sue straightened, clearing her throat. “That’s very hurtful, Sarah, and completely uncalled for. I came here not as your enemy, but as your sister. Your only sister. All I want is for the three of us to be together one final time. Please, can’t you just for once leave the past in the past? What good is it doing you, sitting here in your hovel all day, frying up a side of resentment to make your Korean cheap eats go down easier?”

I clenched my teeth, fuming as my own words came back to haunt me. Fake-ass apologies like that put all the responsibility on me for what happened, instead of on you.

But, of course, Sue didn’t even apologize. Why would she when I was the one holding on to resentment and refusing to leave the past in the past? It really had to be nice in the mind of a narcissist. They got to live an entire lifetime never doing a single thing wrong—or so they would go to their graves swearing.

I smiled winningly. “Me and the past are living quite happily in this hovel. And I’ll have you know that resentment is a tasty spice, but my cheap eats don’t need it. I always was the better cook than you.”

“No, you weren’t!” she barked, lip curling.

I smiled wider.

Sue saw it and fixed her face in an instant, internally cursing herself for the slip—and I didn’t need to be in her head to know it.

I was eight years old when I figured out that my sister was a twisted, duplicitous snake. Nine when I stopped taking her crap, and made it my mission to ensure the world saw her for what she truly was. And ten when Omma realized that the only way for us to live in a peaceful home was for her to put Sue and me at opposite sides of it.

She cleared her throat. “You know what? Have it your way, Sarah. Pick a fight. Be a bitch. Whatever it takes for you to feel like you’re winning a game you’re only playing with yourself.

“The only reason I came was for Omma. She wants to see you before it’s too late. Are you coming or not?”

“Not,” I breezed, turning back to the stove.

“Why? Don’t you care about your own mother?”

“I would, if she were really dying.” My tone couldn’t be flatter. “But since you’re lying and she’s not, I’m not rushing off anywhere with you.”

She choked. “I— I’m not lying! What kind of a nutcase do you think I am? Do you really believe I’d come all this way just to make up a story about our mother being on her deathbed?”

“Yep,” I replied, popping the “p.”

She blew out a rough breath that tickled my hair. “Fuck’s sake— Fine,” she snapped. “I thought you’d make this difficult, so here.” I heard shuffling behind me. “I brought proof.”

“What proof?” I didn’t turn around. “Medical reports? Scans? Might as well put them away now because you could’ve easily doctored those. That’s not proof of anything.”

“Will you just look?”

My stirring slowed down. There’s no reason for me to look at anything she has to show me. Sue used to call Omma a poisonous prune whenever her back was turned, and I doubt her feelings toward her changed much in the last decade.

She doesn’t give a shit about honoring her dying wish, because that would require her caring about someone other than herself.

Don’t get caught in her web, sense whispered in my ear. Remember everything you learned about dealing with narcissistic abusers. Remember that no matter how much you wish, beg, plead, want them to… they never change.

Just tell her to go.

“What is it?” I turned around and snatched the folder from her grip. “A letter from Omma that you wrote yourself? Pictures from the bad old days? Or is it…?” I trailed off, reading four uppercase words across the top of the document that shut me down better than an explanation.

LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT

“What is this…?” My whole body went numb.

“Read what it says under Disposition of Property.”

My hands moved of their own accord, flipping through the pages, they took me to the second to last page.

“She’s leaving it all to you.” Sue’s voice whispered against my ear. “Yes, all that she has. Omma made some bad investments in the last couple years, and that was before she found out about the cancer. Between the chemo and experimental trial after experimental trial, she doesn’t have much, but still, she’s leaving it all to you. Ten thousand dollars, her car, and even Halmeoni’s necklace.

“We bought the house from her to help her cover the medical bills,” Sue confessed. “That belongs to me now, but you get her book collection and most of her furniture. You can keep it or sell it—up to you.”

She didn’t have to tell me that. I could read it all in fine, black ink. All of Omma’s earthly and monetary possessions bequeathed to my youngest daughter, Sarang Kim.

“It’s not fake,” Sue blurted out in the stretching silence. “You can see for yourself that she and the witnesses all signed it. It’s her real will.”

Sue didn’t have to tell me that either. I once dreamed of becoming a lawyer until Sue saw to the end of that. I knew when I was holding a legal document in my hands.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” Sue asked when again I didn’t speak.

“Yes,” I rasped, holding the papers in my trembling hands. “It means Omma did something she’s never in the eighteen years I lived in her house. She… admitted she was wrong.” I raised my head, gazing at her for the first proper time since she walked into my life. “And not even your lies, schemes, or tricks could ever get her to do that.

“She really is dying.”

She nodded. “So… will you come?”

My grip tightened on the will, crumpling the paper between my fingertips. “Why now?”

“She’s on hospice. The doctors have her on so many meds to stop the pain, they’re making her loopy and confused. Some days she doesn’t know what year it is or even who she is,” she said. “She’ll ask where you are, forgetting that she sent you away, and then when she remembers… she cries.” Sue looked away, her jaw clenching tight. “She’s just reliving one of the worst days of her life over and over and over, and it’s hell.

“Omma is already in enough pain. She doesn’t need to carry the regret of never making it right with you to the grave as well.” Sue snapped back to me, glaring. “I know you think I’m some kind of monster, but not even I can watch my own mother suffer like this. I can’t do anything to help her, except bring her you. So,” she barked, making me stiffen. “Are you coming or not?”

I stared at her—my expression blank but my mind racing.

Why should I go with her? My own mother didn’t believe me when I told her through snot-covered lips that I wasn’t some psychopath who left innocent people paralyzed for life. She threw me out onto the street with nothing, ignored my calls and letters, hasn’t spoken to me in ten years, and now that she wants to make up, instead of reaching out herself, she sends the last person on earth I’d ever want to see to be her message girl.

I owed Omma nothing. Less than nothing. I played the good, dutiful daughter for eighteen years, and it didn’t save me from living under the constant cloud of her disappointment and its acid rain of her impossible expectations. The truth was, Ha-eun Kim was never anything approaching a good mother. I gave up on her long before she gave up on me.

“Yes,” I said, turning off the stove. “I’m coming.”

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