Chapter 2

The realization sent shivers down my spine.

My family had always struggled financially, so I worked hard and saved every penny at college. My university was far away, and I could only afford to come home once a year.

It had been over a year since my last visit.

But in just one year, how could my father have acquired a completely new face?

"Why aren't you eating?"

The man suddenly spoke.

I snapped back to reality, realizing he was staring intently at my face.

"Is it not cooked the way you like it?"

"No!"

I shook my head, an almost instinctual reflex.

"Then why aren't you touching your fork?"

My heart skipped a beat. I forced my trembling voice to sound natural. "I'm... I got a bit carsick on the bus ride here. My stomach is a mess. I don't have much of an appetite."

The man stared at me for a few long seconds, then suddenly smiled.

"Then just eat a little."

He stood up to ladle some soup for me. "You’ve had a weak stomach since you were a kid. It’ll only hurt worse if you leave it empty."

I gripped my fork, my palms slick with cold sweat.

Why?

How did he know a detail like that?

It was true. I had a terrible stomach growing up.

One winter, the pain was so bad I was rolling on the floor.

My dad carried me on his back, running three miles through the freezing snow to the nearest clinic in the middle of the night. He even lost a shoe on the way.

But no one knew about that incident except my dad and me.

My breathing grew shallow and rapid.

The man, however, looked entirely natural, gently blowing on the soup to cool it down before handing it to me.

"Careful, it’s hot."

I didn't take it.

The air in the room suddenly went dead silent.

The old ceiling fan creaked overhead, and the cicadas screamed outside the window.

Sitting across from this stranger felt like a waking nightmare.

Suddenly, an idea flashed in my mind. Fighting back the terror, I tried to sound casual.

"Dad, wasn't... wasn't two days ago Mom's death anniversary?"

The man's hand paused in mid-air.

I stared at him like a hawk.

This was a test.

Because my mother wasn't dead.

She had abandoned us when I was five because we were too poor, running off with a wealthy city businessman.

She even went on to have two more kids with him.

This had always been a deeply painful thorn in my dad's heart. He never allowed me to mention her, and he told the neighbors she had passed away from an illness just to keep his dignity.

For all these years, only my dad and I knew the truth.

If this man was an impostor, there was no way he would know.

The silence in the room became suffocating.

A few seconds later, the man chuckled.

"You silly girl, are you trying to test your old man?"

The blood in my veins froze instantly.

"Didn't your mother run off with that guy and have two kids decades ago? She even sent you photos of them last year, remember?"

Boom—

My mind went completely blank.

The fork slipped from my fingers and clattered onto the floor.

How was this possible?!

How could he know that?!

My dad had never, ever told a soul about that!

The man frowned slightly. "What’s wrong?"

My lips parted, dry and white, but no sound came out.

Right then, the screech of tires echoed from the driveway outside.

A heavy, authoritative knock pounded on the front door.

"Police! Open up!"

I bolted upright from my chair.

They were finally here!