Chapter 2

"Why don't you take a little more time to process this?" Michael suggested. "Mr. and Mrs. Ferguson will come over in three days to bring you home themselves."

He took his leave, but he left behind the photocopy of the asset transfer agreement for the Fergusons' billion-dollar fortune.

No one would have any complaints if they were handed a massive fortune just like that—but in the first place, one had to stay alive to be able to enjoy the wealth.

The four of us, who normally spent all our time sabotaging one another, fell silent. In the end, without anyone having to suggest it, we all sat down to have a proper discussion.

They had all seen the birthmark on my lower back. Luke had even found the locket in my suitcase, which was said to have belonged to the Fergusons' real son. Plus, there was my face, too. There was no question as to who the real son was.

That was exactly why the three of them had a hard time grasping the situation as well.

"So you're saying that even the DNA test proved that you're biologically related to them... but they still killed you?"

"Have you guys forgotten about it already?" I snapped back irritably. "You guys came to collect my body, but there was nothing but a pile of broken bones for you to claim! Why are you still questioning me about it?"

Luke sighed. "Well, you're not wrong about that. After seeing that gruesome sight, I ended up having nightmares for days!"

Tom frowned. "You think we're questioning whether you were really killed? Isn't it obvious that we're questioning why they treated you like a fake when you're obviously the real deal?"

Nobody knew the answer. Even though the four of us put our heads together, we couldn't come up with a plausible explanation.

"What should we do now?" Luke asked, his expression troubled. "The four of us are the only ones who match the age profile. There's no one else in the orphanage who might be their son.

"And with how psychopathic that entire family is, I'm starting to think that if no one admits to being their son three days from now, they'll kill us all."

It went without saying that none of us wanted to die. After considering every possible move, I made a suggestion.

"Ms. Palmer has records of every child who stayed in the orphanage. Maybe we can comb through the information and see if there's been some kind of a mix-up. Maybe someone has already adopted the real son, and it's just a coincidence that I share a resemblance to him."

To survive, everyone was willing to consider every possibility. We all marched right over to see Ms. Palmer, the orphanage director, in her office. Luke had always been her favorite. All he had to do was cajole her for a bit, and she allowed us to check the records.

We pored over the file in the orphanage, checking both the ones who'd been adopted and the ones who hadn't. Alas, the four of us were truly the only ones whose ages matched.

Ms. Palmer informed us that we'd only been a few months old when we were abandoned at the orphanage entrance, so there was no mistake about our ages.

She also revealed another piece of information to us. As it turned out, Mr. Ferguson was certain that his real son had grown up in this orphanage because the housekeeper who'd switched the babies had said it herself.

A wave of despair washed over me. "So the real son really is one of us."

Simon immediately removed himself from consideration, pointing out, "Technically, it can only be you."

I scoffed. "You think the three of you can walk away from this unscathed?"

Their faces paled.

All four of us had died at the hands of the Fergusons before, and all for the same reason. The three of them had even been killed the moment they claimed to be the long-lost son.

None of us dared to take the risk and see if we'd be spared if we just denied being the Fergusons' son.

Gritting my teeth, I said, "There's one more option."

With three pairs of skeptical eyes on me, I continued in a clear voice, "I'll meet the Fergusons and see if I can unearth their secret."

The three of them were deeply touched. They vowed to visit my grave each year and raise a glass in my honor on the anniversary of my death.

I was not at all moved by their gesture.

As it was, I wasn't trying to sacrifice myself for them anyway. More than any of them, I couldn't understand why the Fergusons thought I was an impostor.

If they didn't want to bring me back into the family, they could've just gone on with their lives, pretending that they didn't know about my existence.

Why did they dangle the family fortune in front of me to lure me back before killing me?

I'd read a lot of stories about kids who got switched at birth and parents who ended up favoring the child they'd raised instead of their biological one. Yet none of them ever involved a twist such as this one.

And, knowing how vicious the Fergusons were, I didn't dare walk right up to their doorstep.