MIGUEL'S DISCOVERY

Chapter 3: Miguel's Discovery.

The phone slipped from my hand.

"Uhm… it's not what you think it is" I whispered. “I can explain.”

"Enough," he said quietly. His voice was so controlled, so measured, that it was somehow more terrifying than if he'd shouted. "I will ask you for the last time. Are you Clara?”

My lips moved once like I was testing a word and deciding against it. “It's… uhm…actually…”

“Did you switch places with Clara?”

"That's not what happened," I said, my voice shaking. "Miguel, please, you don't understand—"

"I understand perfectly," he interrupted, stepping into the library and closing the door behind him with a soft click. "You deliberately switched places with Clara. You got into that dress knowing it was meant for her. You got into my bed knowing I thought you were someone else. And then you lied about it."

"I didn't switch places," I said desperately, my voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't choose any of this. My parents—"

I stopped myself, but it was too late. The words had already escaped, hanging in the air between us like a confession.

Miguel's eyes narrowed. He watched me carefully, as if piecing together a puzzle he'd already half-solved.

"Your parents, what?" he asked quietly.

I shook my head, refusing to continue. I couldn't. My mother's voice echoed in my mind: If you tell Miguel what happened, then everything will crash. Do not let him find out

"I need to go," I said, trying to move past him toward the door.

Miguel blocked my path with his body. He didn't touch me, but his presence was immovable, a wall of anger and betrayal.

"You're not going anywhere until you answer my question," he said. "Did you or did you not orchestrate switching places with your sister?"

"No," I said, and it was the truth, but my voice was so small, so defeated, that it sounded like a lie.

"Then what happened?" Miguel demanded. "Because from where I'm standing, you're the one in my house. You're the one in my bed. And you're the one lying about it."

"I didn't lie," I said, but even as the words left my mouth, I realized how they sounded. How guilty I sounded.

Miguel pulled out his phone.

"What are you doing?" I asked, as I pushed my chair back an inch, like I needed more air even though the room wasn’t close. My fingers found the hem of my robe and twisted it twice before I let go.

"I'm calling your parents," he said coldly. "I'm going to ask them directly what happened, and then we'll see who's telling the truth."

"No," I said urgently, reaching for his phone. "Please, don't call them. Miguel, you don't understand—"

"Then explain it to me," he said, pulling the phone away from my grasp. "Explain to me right now why I shouldn't call your mum and ask her if her daughter deliberately deceived me on my wedding night."

I opened my mouth and closed it. What could I say? That my parents had orchestrated the entire thing? That my mother had forced me into this dress? That they'd lied to protect themselves and the business deal?

If I told him, my mother would destroy me.

If I didn't tell him, he would think I was guilty.

I was trapped either way.

"Please," I whispered. "Please don't call them."

But Miguel was already dialing. His dark eyes remained fixed on my face as he waited for someone to answer. When he got through, his voice was controlled, precise, lethal.

"Mrs. Kristoff," he said. "This is Miguel Antonio. I have a question about my marriage to your daughter. Did you know that Mara switched places with Clara on our wedding day?"

I couldn't hear my mother's response, but I could imagine her voice, sharp, calculating, perfectly composed.

"I see," Miguel said after a long pause. His jaw clenched. "So you're telling me you had no knowledge of this switch? That Mara acted entirely on her own?"

Another pause. My mother was saying something, defending herself, protecting the business deal. I could feel the weight of her lies through the phone.

"Interesting," Miguel said coldly. "Because if you didn't orchestrate this, then where is Clara? Where is your other daughter?"

The silence that followed was deafening.

"You haven't seen her since after the wedding?" Miguel continued, his voice dropping to something darker, something more dangerous. "And you assumed she was with me? At Antonio Manor?"

I watched his face as he listened. His brow pulled together, then smoothed out too fast, like he’d decided not to ask the question.

"Thank you for your honesty, Mrs. Kristoff," he said, his voice dripping with contempt. "That's all I needed to know."

He hung up without another word.

I stood frozen, unable to speak. My mother had lied or rather, she'd told the truth in the most damaging way possible. She'd admitted that Clara had disappeared. That no one knew where she was. That they'd assumed she was with Miguel.

"They haven't seen her," Miguel said, lowering the phone slowly. His dark eyes were cold. Colder than I'd ever seen them. "Your own mother hasn't seen Clara since after the wedding. They thought she was here. With me."

"Oh my God. That's not—" I started, but the words died in my throat.

"Where is Clara?" Miguel asked quietly. Too quietly. "Where is your sister, Mara?

"I don't know," I whispered, and it was the truth, but it sounded like the deepest lie.

"You don't know," he repeated, stepping closer to me. "So let me piece this together. You switched places with your sister on our wedding day. You got into my bed while I thought you were her. And now she's missing. No one has seen her. No one knows where she is. And you're telling me you don't know where she is?"

If I stayed silent, it would look like guilt. And even if I talk, Miguel will still not believe me. Either way, I was trapped.

So I said nothing.

"Where is Clara?" Miguel demanded again, his voice rising. "Answer me. Where. Is. She?"

"I don't know," I repeated quietly, because it was the only truth I had left.

Miguel stared at me for a long moment. I could see the moment he made his decision.

"You're dangerous," Miguel said, and the coldness in his voice was absolute. "You're manipulative and calculating and dangerous. And now you're standing here, lying to my face about your own sister."

"I'm not lying," I whispered.

"Then explain it to me," he said. "Explain how your sister disappeared. Explain where she is.”

I had no explanation. I had nothing.

Miguel turned away from me, running his hand through his dark hair in frustration. When he turned back, his expression was colder than before.

"Pack your bag," he said. "You're moving to the east wing of the house. Tonight. I don't want to see you. I don't want to speak to you. You will stay out of my way."

"Miguel—" I tried to reach for him, but he held up his hand.

"Don't," he said, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. "Don't touch me. Don't speak to me unless it's absolutely necessary.”

I nodded, unable to speak.

"I'm calling my lawyers in the morning," he said quietly. "We're going to figure out what we're going to do about this marriage. But until then, you will disappear. You will be invisible. You will not exist in my life."

He turned and walked toward the door.

"Miguel, wait—" I called out, desperation clawing at my throat.

He didn't stop. He didn't even look back. He just opened the library door and walked out, closing it softly behind him.