Chapter 4

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

Chloe looked like she was about to faint. Mom and Dad were statues of disbelief and dawning horror.

Detective Miller looked from Thorne to Chloe, then back to Thorne, waiting.

Then, Marcus Thorne did the most astonishing thing.

He laughed.

A short, dry sound, utterly devoid of humor.

"Detective," Thorne said, his voice suddenly smooth, almost gentle. "Thank you for your diligence. But this... this is clearly a tragic, but separate, incident."

Miller frowned. "Sir, the identification..."

"Mistakes happen, Detective," Thorne interrupted, his tone hardening slightly. "The stress of these past few days... it' s been immense. And my love for Isabelle, it' s... overwhelming."

He turned to Chloe, and his expression softened into one of apparent adoration. It was a masterful performance.

"This," he declared, gesturing to Chloe, "this is my Isabelle. My beloved. She' s been through a terrible ordeal, but she' s here. She' s safe."

He stepped forward and, to everyone' s shock, especially his own head of security who looked dumbfounded, he gently took Chloe' s hand.

Chloe, recovering with astonishing speed, leaned into him, tears welling in her eyes. "Oh, Marcus, I was so lost, so scared."

"It' s alright now, my love," Thorne murmured, stroking her hair.

He then turned to my parents. "Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez. You found my Isabelle. You brought her back to me. I can never repay you."

He snapped his fingers. Peterson, his security chief, stepped forward with a briefcase.

Thorne opened it. It was full of cash. Stacks and stacks of hundred-dollar bills.

"The reward," Thorne said, his voice generous. "Five million dollars. It' s yours."

Maria and Hector stared, speechless, as Peterson handed them the briefcase.

I watched, my mind reeling.

This wasn' t right. Thorne was known for his ruthless intelligence, his intolerance for deception. He wasn' t a fool. He had to know.

The body in the canal. Isabelle Moreau was dead.

Yet, he was accepting Chloe, this imposter. Why?

"As for the other... unfortunate matter," Thorne said, glancing at Detective Miller, "I' ll have my people liaise with your department. We' ll ensure Miss Moreau receives a dignified... farewell. An unrelated tragedy, as I said."

His eyes met mine for a fleeting second. There was something in them, a flicker of... something I couldn' t decipher. But it wasn' t delusion.

He was playing a game. A very dangerous game. And Chloe, my parents, they were all puppets.

And me? I was deeply, deeply unsettled. This was far more complex than I' d anticipated.