Chapter 3

I only made my move after finding out that the Fergusons would be dining at an upscale restaurant. Surely they wouldn't commit murder in a public setting with plenty of other people around.

I'd done all kinds of jobs to earn money, so I happened to be acquainted with one of the restaurant's staff members. As a result, I got in without a hitch.

When I deliberately walked past the Fergusons, making sure they got a good look at my face, Mrs. Ferguson immediately grabbed my arm in agitation.

"Wait a minute! Did you grow up in Sunshine Children's Home?"

Even though she was smiling, every hair on my body stood on end. Still, I pretended to be startled. "That's right. And you are…"

Mr. and Mrs. Ferguson exchanged a glance. The two of them stood up, each taking one of my hands affectionately.

"You've come to reunite with us, haven't you?"

They repeated the whole story about how I had ended up getting switched as a baby. Everyone in the restaurant turned to look at us.

Keeping my expression stiff, I asked, "Are you sure I'm your biological son?"

The two of them stared intently at my face, the excitement in their eyes sending a shiver down my spine.

"You look so much like me!" Mrs. Ferguson exclaimed before yanking up my shirt while I was distracted. "And look! You have the birthmark, too! Why don't you come home with us tonight?"

I became even more terrified—because I'd just realized something. They'd said a lot of things up until now, but they never actually said outright that I was their biological son. They were just in a hurry to take me home with them!

Doing my best to stay calm, I asked with feigned joy, "Mr. and Mrs. Ferguson, is that why you think I'm your son?"

Seeing my doubtful expression, the two of them started to scrutinize me. "What's with you, you silly boy? You've already come to reunite with us, haven't you? And you have the birthmark and the features that prove you're our son, so why are you still asking us such questions?"

I could barely stop myself from frowning. They were still giving me maddeningly vague answers without actually addressing my question head-on.

Just when I was about to continue sussing them out, Mrs. Ferguson suddenly burst into tears, declaring, "It has to be you! Who else could it be? We're taking you home right this minute so that we can make it up to you for letting you suffer on your own for 20 years."

They were looking at me with eagerness and agitation, their eyes a little teary.

Growing up in the orphanage, I didn't get bullied or abused, but life wasn't easy either. There had been times when I was so starved that I even had to fight the stray dogs for food scraps.

At school, the others mocked me and pushed me around because I had no parents. Because of that, I used to dream of having a family of my own. I didn't need them to be rich. I just wanted someone who would stick up for me when other people hurt me.

So when the Fergusons showed up at the orphanage, I'd been pretty excited. If they were willing to give me the entire family fortune, that meant they must love me very much, right?

But that very night, they pushed me off the balcony without any hesitation.

"How dare you impersonate our son to enjoy our family's wealth, you vicious liar! What gives a bastard like you with no parents the audacity to set your sights on things that don't belong to you, huh? You can go to hell!"

The painful memories left me unnervingly calm. I tried to figure out why they acknowledged me as their real son, only to deny it afterward. Had I done something to cause a misunderstanding?

Out of nowhere, Mrs. Ferguson yanked on my arm and tried to pull me out of the restaurant. In her hurry, she knocked over the desserts on the table. But that didn't stop her.

Her reaction made me narrow my eyes. Suddenly, an answer came to me. My voice trembled as I said, "The real son is—"

Mrs. Ferguson cut me off. "It's you, of course!"

Her nails dug into my arm, and the look in her eyes terrified me.

"Why do you still have doubts about it?"