She’s not in her room. She’s not in her office either. But then I hear her voice and feel a draft from downstairs. The front door is standing wide open.
“Waverly Whitmore!” my mother snaps. “Get out of the car!”
Huh?
I jog down the stairs, clutching my tablet in my left hand, but I forget all about my mother when I look beyond her to see Hennessy getting out of a long black car. “Look! They’ve got it loaded already!” I hold up the tablet to show him the image. “Have you seen it yet? It’ll be on every billboard in the city by tomorrow night.”
But then my focus settles on the girl standing next to him, and my hand falls limp at my side. My jaw literally drops. “What the hell is going on?”
The girl standing next to my fiancé? She’s wearing my face.