A woman who looked eerily like Debra strode into the room in sleek ck heels. She had the same sharp brows, porcin skin, and confident smile as Debra.
Dressed in a tailored ck pencil dress with a slim brown belt cinching her waist, she carried herself like royalty.
"Mrs. Houston," the woman said, extending a hand with a smile that felt like a twisted reflection.
Debra bristled. It was like staring into a funhouse mirror.
She ignored the handshake, turning instead to Juan with a re. "What games are you ying?"
Juan shrugged. "The truth''s right in front of you."
"What truth?" a shareholder snapped. "You think some knockoff can waltz in here and match our boss?"
"What are you up to?" another echoed. "Exin yourself."
The wavering partners hung back, watching the chaos unfold.
The woman raised her chin. "The truth is, I''m the real Debra. I was kidnapped as a child and taken abroad. After I escaped, my adoptive father raised me. I''ve spent years searching for my parents, and now I''ve found them."
Debra scoffed, "Did you rehearse this sob story in the car, Juan? It''sughably bad."
"My adoptive father named me Vickie Donaldson," said the woman. "Look it up. I''m telling the truth."
A shareholder stepped forward. "Got any proof? You expect us to believe this fairy tale?"
The others echoed, "No one is believing your nonsense."
Unfazed, Vickie turned to Debra. "The kidnappers sent a decoy parents. It was a girl who
"get
me."
Debra''s face darkened, and Vickie continued, "I was seven or eight when I was taken. The decoy wouldn''t remember life before that. Do you recall anything from that age, Mrs. Houston?"
Silence thickened.
Ben was worried. "Madam..."
Debra''s stony expression said everything.
Unconvinced, Alexander spoke up. "So what? A lot of people don''t remember anything before seven.
t proves nothing." Cont
Vickie unsped a ne, revealing a sapphire pendant. Debra''s eyes locked onto the gem.