
“Dad, that waitress looks just like Mom!” The millionaire was shocked to learn that his wife had died many years ago.
The next morning, after dropping Emily off at school, James called his private investigator, Simon Lee—a former police officer known for getting answers where official channels failed.
“I need anything you can find on a woman named Anna,” James said, sending a photo. “She works at a restaurant in Bramble Creek. She’s about 30-35 years old and said she grew up in foster care. I think she’s related to my late wife.”
There was silence on the other end. “Do you think this is your wife?”
“No,” James replied. “But… maybe a twin. A sister. Something.”
Simon didn’t ask any questions. “Give me 48 hours.”
Two days later Simon called back.
“James, you’re not crazy,” he said. Her name is Anna Ward. She was born on June 17, 1989, in Syracuse, New York. Three days later, she was placed in foster care. She has no biological parents. She’s been wandering around the state her whole life.”
James swallowed. “Did Evelyn…?”
Evelyn Monroe. Also born June 17, 1989. Also adopted. Different city – Rochester. But listen…
James leaned forward.
“Both girls were placed with two different private adoption agencies… but both agencies used the same, now defunct medical clinic to process the child’s information.”
James stood still.
“So… are they sisters?”
“Twins,” Simon confirmed. “I recovered the original medical records from the clinic’s archives. There was one file in which both girls were listed as born as twins. No names for the parents. Just ‘Baby A’ and ‘Baby B’. That’s probably how they were separated—separated to increase their potential for adoption.”
James exhaled slowly. “Jesus.”
“I did a DNA cross with Evelyn’s hairbrush you gave me earlier… and the water glass you brought back from the restaurant? 99.9% match. Identical twins.”
James stared at the wall. For a long time, he couldn’t speak. Evelyn had always wanted to know about her biological family, but she’d found nothing—no information, no links.
There was a long silence.