The night Daniel introduced us to his fiancée was meant to be a celebration. My husband and I had spent the day preparing his favorite dishes, setting the table with care, and opening a special bottle of wine. It was a milestone moment—our son was bringing home the woman he hoped to spend his life with.
When Daniel walked through the door with Cindy by his side, she seemed warm and polite. She greeted us with a smile, complimented the house, and handed me a bouquet of flowers. On the surface, she appeared to be everything a mother could hope for. But the moment I looked at her, something inside me stirred. She seemed familiar—far too familiar.
Throughout dinner, I tried to dismiss the thought. Perhaps she only resembled someone I had seen before. But as the evening went on, the unease only grew stronger. Then, like a flash, it hit me: I had seen her face on a recent news report. A woman with a different name, wanted in connection with fraud, whose photo was burned into my memory.
My heart pounded as I sat at the table, torn between fear and doubt. What if I was mistaken? What if my instincts were wrong, and I ruined Daniel’s happiness over nothing? Still, I couldn’t shake the certainty building in my chest.
After dessert, I asked Cindy if she would help me choose another bottle of wine from the basement. She followed me down without hesitation. Once inside, I excused myself, stepped out, and quietly shut the door. My hands trembled as I dialed the police.
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