For so long, Alice thought she'd been cut off. Deleted. A ghost Aurora had locked in a past life. She'd told herself it didn't matter. That they weren't the same. That they never had been.
But now…
"She said," Hardy continued, "'If we are still as identical as we were when we were kids, and Alice steps out looking exactly like me, in my clothes, you would know in a second that it is not me.'"
"And you… did?" she asked, voice barely audible.
"I did," he said quietly. "I was at the wedding. Just for a bit."
Her head swam.
She gripped the railing. The air felt thinner than it had a second ago.
"Why aren't you… exposing me? Or her?" Her voice cracked. "Did you know she was sick?"
Hardy looked at her carefully. "Is that what you were told?"
Confusion flickered in her chest. "Yes," she said. "That she's… battling with her life. But she's undergoing treatment..."
Those were the exact words Priscilla had said to her.
