Identity Hijacked, Kill Switch On

Suddenly, Erica reached out and yanked my hat off. "I knew it was you! You caused trouble here yesterday, and now you're back? Are you deliberately looking for a fight?"

Her eyes blazed with anger as she swung her hand at me.

I tensed and instinctively raised my own hand to block her slap.

I knew I couldn't back down. "I'm the real Adam Richmond. If you don't believe me, call my dad and ask him yourself," I said coldly.

Erica didn't hesitate. "Go ahead, then. Call him."

I clenched my teeth and grabbed my phone to call Dad, but the call wouldn't go through. The screen reading "Dialing…" made my heart pound with panic.

Seeing this, Erica sneered. "Can't get through? Mr. Richmond, looks like your little act is falling apart."

I took a deep breath, refusing to give up. "You can call your dad too. He knows the truth," I said.

Erica's expression wavered for a moment before it hardened, and she let out a cold, mocking laugh. "Still spinning stories? Adam has always been by my side. There's no way you're telling the truth!"

"Fine. If you don't believe me, I'll show you the truth," I said, staring at the fake Adam. "There's an ancient willow in the backyard of Richmond Manor. Do you even know where it stands?"

I watched his face closely, looking for any sign of hesitation or a crack in his composure.

The fake Adam remained eerily composed. He smiled lightly and said, "There's no willow at Richmond Manor, only peach trees."

My heart sank. How could he possibly know that?

Erica's anger flared again. She gritted her teeth and glared at me. "I knew it! This was all set up! You came here just to stir up trouble for Adam!"

People nearby stepped forward, trying to intervene. The fake Adam put on a fake air of concern. "Erica, calm down. It's just a misunderstanding. Maybe he's feeling insecure."

That only made Erica angrier.

She lunged at me and sneered. "You're jealous of Adam. That's why you keep getting in his way. Since you're so obsessed with his fingers, I'll make sure yours suffer just like he did."

Then, she turned to the fake Adam. "Adam, hold his hand down!"

The fake Adam hesitated for a moment, then a cruel smile spread across his face. He ran over and pressed my hand firmly.

Panic surged through me. Erica was ruthless. She grabbed a glass vase off the table, and a cruel light gleamed in her eyes as she lifted it toward my hand.

I struggled desperately, trying to free my hand from the fake Adam's grip. My heart sank. I was a painter, and my hands were everything to me.

The onlookers gasped and tried to intervene, but the fake Adam's strength was overwhelming. He held my hand fast, ignoring their protests.

He wore a faint, self‑satisfied smirk, and a triumphant shine flickered in his eyes, as though he wanted me to suffer.

Just as panic and regret threatened to overwhelm me, a cold, authoritative voice cut through the chaos from the doorway.

"What's going on here? Why is it so noisy?"