Chapter 13: The Man Wearing His Face
Arthur heard Victoria’s warning, but he couldn’t see her.
The east wing had plunged into darkness. Somewhere beside him, Ethan was breathing in short, painful gasps. Arthur kept one hand pressed against his son’s wound and reached blindly toward the table with the other.
“Victoria?”” he called.
“Don’t move.””
Her voice came from the doorway.
Then a second voice answered.
“Arthur, listen to me. Put your hands where I can see them.””
Arthur froze.
It was his own voice.
Not similar.
Not an imitation.
Identical.
A match so perfect that, for one disorienting second, Arthur wondered whether the words had come from his own mouth.
A flashlight clicked on.
Its beam struck the wall, then moved slowly across the room.
A man stood in the doorway wearing a dark suit. He had Arthur’s height, Arthur’s shoulders, Arthur’s sharp jawline.
And Arthur’s face.
The stranger looked to be in his late forties. A thin scar crossed his left eyebrow, and his hair was darker than Arthur’s, but the resemblance was unmistakable.
Victoria stood behind him, her hands raised. A pistol was pressed against her back.
“Who are you?”” Arthur demanded.
The stranger smiled.
“That's an interesting question, considering your family has spent fifteen years pretending I don't exist.””
Arthur looked at Ethan.
His son was struggling to remain conscious.
“Get an ambulance here,” Arthur said to Victoria.
The stranger lifted his weapon.
“Don't give orders in my house.””
Arthur stared at him.
“Your house?””
“Your father built it. Your mother tried to give it away. And you inherited it without ever asking why.””
The stranger stepped into the room.
The flashlight illuminated his face fully.
Arthur saw something that made his stomach turn.
A small crescent-shaped scar near the stranger’s right temple.
He had seen that scar before.
On the man in the photograph outside the private clinic.
On the man who had supposedly died fifteen years earlier.
But this stranger wasn't his father.
He was too young.
Arthur studied his face, the familiar nose, the slight asymmetry of his mouth.
Then he remembered a photograph from his childhood.
Two boys standing beside a swimming pool.
Arthur, eight years old.
And another boy, almost identical to him, whom his mother had told him was a distant cousin visiting for the summer.
The second boy had disappeared after a boating accident.
Arthur had never seen him again.
His name had been Julian.
“Julian?”” Arthur whispered.
The stranger's smile vanished.
Victoria looked between them.
“Arthur, who is that?””
Arthur couldn't answer.
Julian Hayes.
His twin brother.
The brother his family had told him was dead.
“No,” Arthur said.
“You died.””
“That's what Father wanted everyone to believe.””
Arthur's mouth went dry.
“Where have you been?””
“Living in the shadow of the life you stole.””
“I didn't steal anything.””
“You got the name. The inheritance. The company. The family.””
Julian's voice cracked on the last word.
“I got a funeral.””
Arthur looked at him in disbelief.
Their father had faked his death. Margaret had hidden a child. Richard had manipulated the hospital records. Evelyn had concealed a pregnancy.
Now his supposedly dead twin had returned, armed and furious.
“How did you survive the accident?”” Arthur asked.
Julian laughed bitterly.
“There was no accident. Father arranged for me to be sent away after I discovered what he was doing. When Mother tried to bring me home, he threatened to destroy her. She agreed to keep my existence secret until she could find a way to protect us both.””
“Why didn't she tell me?””
“Because Father convinced her you were safer without knowing.””
Arthur shook his head.
“Mother would never have let you disappear.””
“She didn't have a choice.””
Julian looked at Ethan.
“And now you've brought the other secret into the light.””
Arthur's attention snapped toward his son.
“What do you mean?””
Julian's expression changed.
“Ethan isn't the only child Mother saved.””
Arthur felt the room tilt.
“What?””
Julian took a folded paper from his jacket and tossed it onto the desk.
Arthur couldn't leave Ethan, so Victoria retrieved it.
The document was a birth record, yellowed with age.
It listed Margaret Hayes as the mother.
The father's name was blank.
The date was the same night Margaret had died.
But the child's name was not Ethan.
It read:
*Arthur James Hayes.*
Arthur stared at the paper.
“That's impossible.””
Julian's eyes were cold.
“Is it?””
“I was born twenty years before that date.””
“Exactly.””
Julian leaned forward.
“Someone used your identity to register a child born that night. Someone wanted a second heir who could be hidden in plain sight.””
Arthur looked at Ethan.
His son was pale, his eyes barely open.
“Ethan,” Arthur whispered.
“What is he talking about?””
Ethan swallowed.
“There's something I didn't tell you.””
Arthur's heart sank.
“Tell me.””
“Margaret didn't just protect me. She protected another child, too.””
Julian nodded.
“Me.””
Arthur stared at him.
“You're my twin.””
“Biologically, yes. But the truth is more complicated than that.””
Julian glanced at the birth record.
“Father had another son with a woman outside the marriage before you were born. He concealed the pregnancy, and Mother raised the child as her own for a time. That child was me.””
Arthur's thoughts collided.
“Then we're not twins?””
“Not in the way you think. We share a father, but not a mother. Margaret loved me as if I were hers. When Father realized I might inherit part of the estate, he made me disappear.””
“Why does your face look exactly like mine?””
Julian's smile was humorless.
“Because Father chose a woman who looked remarkably like your mother. And because, when he needed a replacement for you in certain records, he made sure our identities were interchangeable.””
Arthur stared at the documents.
The family history was no longer a story of one hidden child.
It was a maze of identities, lies, and stolen lives.
Then Julian turned his attention to Victoria.
“Tell him where Noah is.””
Victoria went rigid.
“I don't know.””
Julian pressed the gun harder against her back.
“Don't lie to me.””
“I haven't seen him since the apartment.””
Julian's eyes narrowed.
“Then Evelyn failed to deliver what she promised.””
Arthur looked up.
“You're working with Evelyn?””
“Working with her? No. She's been working for me.””
The words landed like a blow.
Julian continued.
“She wanted Richard dead. I wanted the company back. We had a common interest.””
“You shot Ethan.””
“I didn't intend to.””
“You pointed a gun at him.””
“He reached for the recorder.””
Arthur's anger surged.
“You could have killed him!””
Julian looked down at Ethan.
For a fleeting moment, something like regret crossed his face.
Then it disappeared.
“Father taught us all to survive first and apologize later.””
Arthur slowly rose, keeping his body between Julian and Ethan.
“You're not taking anyone else.””
Julian raised his gun.
“You don't get to decide that.””
A crash sounded upstairs.
Then another.
Victoria jerked her head toward the ceiling.
Julian turned instinctively.
It was the only opening Arthur needed.
He lunged.
The gun fired, shattering a framed photograph. Arthur struck Julian's wrist, and the weapon skidded beneath the desk.
They slammed into the wall.
Julian fought with desperate strength, driving a knee into Arthur's injured side.
Arthur gasped.
Julian reached for the fallen gun.
Victoria kicked it away.
Before either man could recover, the study door burst open.
Detective Brooks entered with armed officers.
“Police! Hands where we can see them!””
Julian looked at Arthur.
For a moment, the hatred on his face gave way to something much older.
Pain.
“You always were the lucky one,” he whispered.
Then he smiled.
“And you still don't know who signed Mother's death certificate.””
He lunged toward the open window.
An officer grabbed his coat, but the fabric tore. Julian slipped free, crashed through the glass, and disappeared into the darkness outside.
Arthur stumbled toward the window.
Below, headlights flashed across the garden.
A black car sped through the gates.
Julian was gone.
Behind Arthur, Detective Brooks knelt beside Ethan and called for medical assistance.
Victoria rushed to Arthur's side.
“Are you hurt?””
He barely heard her.
His phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
A photograph appeared on the screen.
It showed Noah sitting in a room beneath a single hanging light.
Beside him stood Evelyn Hayes.
Under the photograph were six words.
*Bring me the original trust, or Noah dies.*
Arthur looked toward the broken window.
His family had lied to him for fifteen years.
Now they were asking him to choose which part of it he was willing to lose.
He turned to Detective Brooks.
“Find Julian.””
Then he looked at Victoria.
“And find my brother.””
Victoria frowned.
“Which brother?””
May you like
Arthur looked down at the photograph.
“The one they haven't shown me yet.””
