On the day of Starlight Academy’s anniversary, Julian stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his clothes.

With his gold-rimmed glasses and refined features, he looked like a gentle, educated man.

Nature had been exceptionally generous to that bastard.

He practiced his smile until it was perfect.

A warm smile for a school full of orphans.

Gavin opened the car door for him.

“Changed your cologne? I thought you didn’t like the ambergris one. You always wore it for events like this. Why switch now?”

I knew why.

The only person he had worn it for was dead. There was no reason to keep performing.

Julian looked out the window.

“I don’t like ambergris. Stella does.”

His voice lowered.

“She may never smell it again.”

The Whitmores had suppressed the news that the woman in the hospital wasn’t me.

The police knew. Lucian knew.

Everyone else still thought I had been found.

My devoted husband could go on collecting sympathy.

“Mrs. Whitmore loves you so much,” Gavin said. “She’ll survive. For you.”

“I hope so.”

The bitterness in Julian’s voice sounded almost real.

I stayed in the front passenger seat. I couldn’t stand being near him in the back.

At the school gates, a dozen children stood ready to welcome the guests. They wore bright sashes and red flowers, their little faces beaming.

For a moment, the sight soothed something inside me.

Even after my death, Dr. Finch and Mr. L were taking care of them.

As Julian got out, a child in the front row suddenly lit up.

“Stella!”

Ellie.

I froze.

Could she see me?

She had been four when she came to us, rescued from an abusive church-run orphanage.

Her gray eyes had been frightened and wary. She hoarded food, barely spoke, and watched every adult’s face before she dared do anything.

I had recognized something of myself in her.

So I spent extra time playing with her.

Eventually, she began clinging to me. When she knew I was coming, she would pull up a little stool and sit waiting.

Now she ran toward me, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

I knelt and opened my arms.

“Ellie…”

She went straight through me.

Into the arms of the woman behind me.

From the back, the woman looked like me. The same dark curls.

She was even wearing one of my white dresses.

Pearl.

Had stealing my identity become an addiction?

She was bringing it here, too. Into the one place that should have been safe from her.

Pearl was checking her makeup in a compact. When Ellie grabbed her, she startled and almost let out a curse.

Then she saw the cameras.

Her expression transformed.

“Ellie! Aren’t you adorable?”

She crouched and put her arms around the girl.

She had clearly prepared. She even knew Ellie’s name.

But Ellie looked up at her face and realized her mistake.

She tried to pull away.

She was six. Pearl was an adult.

Pearl’s hand tightened around her arm, hidden beneath the puffed sleeve of Ellie’s princess dress.

The skin reddened under her fingers.

Her other arm locked around the child’s waist.

“Don’t cry,” she whispered. “Don’t say a word, or I’ll cut Stella’s head off.”

I wanted to break her arm.

The reporters gathered around.

“Miss Whitmore, is this your first visit? The children seem so attached to you.”

From the outside, it looked as though Ellie was clinging to her and refusing to let go.

Pearl smiled sweetly at the cameras.

“Ever since the Starlight Project began, I’ve made time to come back a few times every year. These children are like my own.”

She was implying she was the mysterious founder behind the project.

Shameless.

Naturally, the Whitmores had paid these reporters to be here. They knew exactly what was expected of them.

“Miss Whitmore, are you the founder of the Starlight Project? That’s incredible!”

“No wonder you said you’d donate all the proceeds from your art auctions to charity. You meant the Starlight Project!”

“Are you planning to reveal your identity as the project’s founder today?”

Pearl gave them a modest smile and an answer vague enough to be useful.

“It really doesn’t matter who founded it. I’ve never cared about recognition. As long as I can make a real difference for the children and give something back, that’s enough for me.”

I wanted to spit in her face.

“What is going on here?”

Dr. Finch had noticed the commotion. He approached, frowning.

“The academy’s anniversary is a private event. Reporters aren’t welcome. Please leave.”

Pearl turned toward him and offered her hand with a bright smile.

“Dr. Finch. It’s been so long.”

Ellie seized the chance to wriggle free and run.

Finch was the academy’s public representative. If the reporters photographed him shaking Pearl’s hand, it wouldn’t matter whether she ever explicitly claimed to be the founder.

People would believe it.

But Finch looked her over without a trace of warmth.

“What on earth are you talking about?” he demanded. “Have we met? And who told you to bring reporters here for a publicity stunt? Leave. You’re not welcome.”