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She listened carefully, then hesitated.
“Your husband,” she asked slowly. “Does he have a compass tattoo on his shoulder?”
She closed her eyes.
“It wasn’t me,” she said softly. “It was my twin sister.”
Identical twins.
She explained that her sister, Anna, had a long pattern of destructive behavior—affairs, lies, chaos. Alice had cut contact years earlier.
“I believe she did this,” Alice said. “But it wasn’t me.”
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