Chapter 3: Mirrored Stranger
905 Words
“Raymond, she looks like you."
Helena's whisper had been razor-thin, audible only because the dining room had fallen into an unnatural hush. Sarah remembered the clink of a single fork falling. The way candlelight threw long, trembling shadows across the marble floor.
“I don't see it," Raymond said coolly, sipping red wine. “She just happens to have good bone structure."
But everyone saw it.
Lucy Warren sat at the far end of the table in a modest navy dress, her damp curls pinned back, face shy but open. She smiled nervously. “Thank you again for the opportunity. I'm honored to intern under Mr. Thomas."
“Which one?" Sarah had asked lightly, trying to sound playful.
Lucy blinked. “Oh—uh, Mr. Raymond Thomas."
Of course.
Michael, seated beside Sarah, reached for the wine but missed the glass.
“She's quite composed," Helena murmured to Thomas. “I'd have crumbled under this kind of pressure."
Thomas didn't reply. He was still staring.
Sarah's hands clenched under the table.
“Tell us more about yourself," she said. “Your education, your background."
Lucy nodded, grateful. “I just graduated with a finance degree. Scholarship student. I worked part-time at a diner near campus and did weekend shifts cleaning hotel rooms. My foster parents weren't… around much."
Helena's mascaraed lashes fluttered. “Foster?"
Lucy looked down. “Yes. I was adopted, but they passed away early. Most of the time I raised myself."
“I see," Thomas said, voice suddenly hoarse.
Raymond interrupted smoothly. “Lucy placed top in her class and was personally recommended by her professor."
“Hard work beats privilege," Lucy said softly. “Or at least I hope so."
Sarah flinched.
Michael leaned toward her, voice low. “She doesn't mean anything by that."
“I didn't say she did."
“I just… you look tense."
Sarah offered a brittle smile. “Do I?"
Lucy turned toward her. “Miss Thomas—Sarah—I hope we can get along. You've built an amazing reputation. I read your presentation on international venture trends—it inspired me."
Sarah blinked. “You've read my reports?"
“Every one published in the last three years," Lucy admitted, laughing lightly. “You're sort of a legend on campus."
Something in Sarah warmed briefly… then immediately recoiled.
Because that face.
That smile.
Even the dimple—was identical to the one in her father's rare, genuine grins.
The resemblance wasn't just uncanny.
It was unsettling.
The rest of the dinner blurred.
She remembered knocking over the teapot.
Her fingers shaking.
Michael catching the cup before it shattered.
Raymond watching her every move from the head of the table.
Later, in the powder room, Sarah stared at her reflection.
Same designer dress, same luxury curls, same subtle makeup.
But her face looked foreign.
She touched her cheekbone. “Am I imagining this?"
“No," she heard herself whisper back.
When she returned to the table, Lucy and Michael were laughing over some childhood story involving a golden retriever and a hedge maze.
“Max used to hide my shoes," Lucy said, her eyes sparkling.
“That dog hated everyone except Sarah," Michael chuckled.
“Sounds like he had good instincts," Lucy replied.
They shared a laugh.
Sarah sat down without a word.
The chandelier above them spun slowly, like the room was rotating on an axis she could no longer control.
After dinner, as guests trickled out, Sarah caught Raymond alone by the sideboard.
“She looks like Dad."
He didn't look at her. “DNA works in strange ways."
“You know what I mean."
“Let it go."
“I can't."
Raymond turned then, meeting her eyes with a look Sarah couldn't name. “Why are you afraid of her?"
“I'm not afraid," she snapped.
“Then what? Jealous?"
“She's not one of us."
His silence said otherwise.
Sarah shook her head. “You brought her here for a reason."
“Yes," Raymond said simply. “Because she earned it."
The words felt like slaps.
“I earned everything I have."
He gave a half-smile. “Sure."
Sarah's breath caught. “You think I've been handed everything."
“I know you have."
She stepped closer. “I built departments from scratch. I ran international accounts. I stayed up three days straight launching our Singapore branch."
“You also spent $800,000 on party favors for your last birthday."
“That was PR!"
“That was indulgence."
Sarah's voice dropped. “You've hated me since I was born."
Raymond looked away. “Not true."
“Then what is true?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he picked up his whiskey glass and walked out into the rain, leaving her alone with the silence and the scent of betrayal.
Back in the ICU, Sarah's heart fluttered behind the machines.
Ada leaned forward. “Sarah? I told the doctor you don't like strangers touching your hair. They were going to shave part of your scalp for the EEG. I stopped them."
No movement.
No change.
But inside, Sarah saw herself standing at the edge of the dining room, watching Lucy laugh, watching Raymond drink, watching her life start to shift like a sandcastle beneath high tide.
She had felt it, that night.
Something irreversible.
Not the exact truth—no.
But the first crack in the mirror.
The first whisper that said: *You don't belong here.*
- Writer
