Chapter 5

Tristan's reddened eyes and pleading tone instantly won him even more sympathy and anger from the crowd.

Insults and disgust rained down on me from every direction.

Elaine Grayson finally lost patience, stepped forward, and slapped my face hard enough to turn my head.

"You ungrateful monster. If we'd known you were this vicious and incapable of tolerating anyone else, we should have left you where we found you instead of bringing you home.

"Search him properly. Don't leave anything unchecked."

On the day the original Micah learned he had been switched at birth, an abusive employer had withheld nearly a year's unpaid wages and thrown him out of work.

He had a fever of more than 104 degrees, no money for treatment, and was afraid to return to his room because a woman there had been sexually harassing him.

Half-conscious on the street, he saw a newspaper photograph and recognized a woman whose face looked almost exactly like his.

Overwhelmed with hope, Micah used the last of his strength to call the number connected to the article.

He thought finding his family would finally save him. Instead, it opened the door to hell.

No one truly cared whether he lived or died.

But those were the original Micah's memories, not mine.

I had been humiliated plenty in my first life. To me, the Graysons were merely wealthy, difficult people I wanted to escape.

Yet something inside me broke anyway. Beneath the humiliation was a grief so strong I could barely breathe.

It felt as though every insult had happened to me personally. My eyes burned red and my body began shaking.

The moment Elaine gave the order, several people grabbed me and began searching me by force.

After struggling failed, I went limp like a broken doll and let them do whatever they wanted.

They pulled off my shirt, shoes, socks, and outer clothes, tore my belt, and emptied the few coins and small bills from my pockets onto the floor.

If anyone there had cared even slightly less about the crowd watching, they would have taken the rest of it too.

Someone laughed while they searched me.

"Look at those bargain-bin clothes. Of course someone this broke planned to steal the watch and sell it."

A young woman nearby finally spoke with visible discomfort.

"This isn't right. Whatever you think he did, he's still a person. You can't humiliate him like this."

The spectators immediately shouted her down.

"He deserves it. People like him don't deserve sympathy."

There were no lasting physical injuries from the search itself, but the humiliation cut deeper than bruises. I dug my nails into my palms until my eyes burned.

Several minutes later, I heard Elaine's disbelieving voice. "Nothing? How can there be nothing?"

The estate was full of outsiders who could have touched anything, yet the Graysons had decided the thief had to be me.

I crouched and slowly gathered my scattered belongings, my voice rough.

"Are you finished? Can I leave now?

"If you still don't believe me, I'll call the police. If I stole a watch that expensive, they can investigate it properly instead of all of you deciding my punishment."

Keeping my eyes down, I pulled my phone from the canvas bag someone had stepped on and called 911.

Every face in the room changed.

Vanessa had clearly never imagined I would involve the police. Something strange crossed her face.

"Micah... you really didn't take it?"

I was exhausted in every possible way. Without lifting my head, I answered quietly, "I'll cooperate with whatever you want. Just please stop humiliating me.

"Please."

By the final word, I had folded almost completely toward the floor, and even my voice shook.

I had never lowered myself like this before.

The original Micah probably would have screamed and cried about how unfair they were.

But I wasn't the original Micah, and I didn't love these people.

I only wanted to stay alive.

For the first time, the Graysons looked uncertain as they stared at how completely I had been ground down.

Had they finally wondered whether they were wrong?

For one strange moment, I thought I saw pity in their eyes.

Maybe I imagined it.