Angela paced back and forth inside Nancy's small, dimly lit room, the air thick with tension. Her nerves were on edge, her heart thrashing in her chest. She had been waiting for Nancy’s report—waiting to hear whether she had convinced Andrew to cancel the wedding.
But there had been nothing. No updates, no messages. It was like Nancy had vanished, leaving Angela to fend for herself.
Frustration gnawed at her. She glanced around the room, her eyes scanning the clutter of clothes and cheap perfume bottles. It smelled like Nancy—strong, sweet, and suffocating.
However, despite the physical similarities between them, Angela felt completely out of place. Her chest tightened with fear.
She wasn’t Nancy. No matter how much they looked alike, no matter how convincingly she played the part, she
