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“Polite. Well-behaved.
Excellent. But they seem to have built walls around themselves. Lily especially.
I studied their photos. Alex with his serious dark eyes.
Lily with her artistic, thoughtful expression. Children who’d learned early that showing vulnerability was dangerous. “I’d like to invite both of them to participate in the program,” I said, “along with perhaps six other students.”
“Excellent choice.
I’ll have them contacted immediately.”
That evening, I sat in my new library, surrounded by the tools of my patient revenge. I’d had my assistant compile detailed profiles of both twins—their interests, their achievements, their social media activity, limited and carefully curated, and most importantly, their schedule of extracurricular activities. The next phase of my plan required perfect timing and careful orchestration.
Victoria had spent 13 years painting me as the bitter, rejected grandmother. Now I needed to show Alex and Lily who I really was—successful, generous, and genuinely interested in their futures. My phone rang at 8:00 p.m.
The caller ID showed a number I didn’t recognize. When I answered, I heard a voice that made my heart skip. “Mrs.
Rivers? This is… this is Alex Rivers from Westfield Academy.”
“Alex,” I said, keeping my voice warm but professional. “What a pleasant surprise. How can I help you?”
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