Chapter 2

I couldn't stand to be there a moment longer.

I was afraid that if I looked at him one more time, I'd lose it — I'd lunge forward and tear that fake smile right off his face.

I turned and walked out without looking back.

The caretaker called after me warmly, "Miss Thorne, won't you stay a little longer? Mr. Thorne is doing so well today..."

I didn't respond. I walked straight out of the care facility.

The sunlight outside was harsh, but I couldn't feel any warmth in it.

What was I supposed to do?

I drove straight to the nearest police station.

"I need to report a crime!"

I rushed into the station and said it to an officer I saw — a man who had just been sitting there with a cup of coffee.

He startled and set down his mug.

"Ma'am, slow down. Tell me what happened."

"My father — someone is impersonating him! The man in that care facility is not my father!" I was barely making sense, my voice shaking.

The officer frowned and gestured for me to sit.

"Are you talking about the chairman of Submer Group? Mr. Thorne?"

"Yes!"

"Miss Thorne, I think you may be exhausted. Mr. Thorne has been monitored by our department since the accident. He lost his memory, yes, but his identity has been verified."

"No! You have it wrong! He's a fake — he plays chess! He plays chess!" I was clutching at the only proof I had, saying it louder like volume would make them hear me.

The officer's expression shifted to something closer to pity.

"Miss Thorne, we understand how difficult this has been since your father's accident. But the fact that he plays chess now doesn't prove he's an impostor. Memory loss can change a person's personality and habits — which is medically documented."

"But he swore an oath! He swore he would never touch chess again for the rest of his life!"

"An oath doesn't carry legal weight," the officer said patiently. "And Miss Thorne — when we confirmed his identity, we ran a DNA comparison. The paternity match between him and you came back at 99.99%."

DNA.

I went still.

How was that possible?

If the DNA matched, then...

A wild, terrifying thought surfaced in my mind.

Was there really someone out there who looked exactly like my father — whose DNA was nearly identical to his?

I walked out of the police station in a daze.

The city was lighting up around me as evening fell, but I felt more alone and helpless than I ever had in my life.

No one believed me.

To everyone else, I was just a daughter who'd become obsessive and unhinged after her father's accident.

What was I supposed to do?

I drove without thinking and found myself back home almost without realizing it.

This was the house I'd lived in with my father for over twenty years.

Now it was just me.

I went into his study. Everything was exactly the way he'd left it.

A financial magazine he hadn't finished was still sitting on his desk.

I sat down in his chair and tried to draw some strength from the familiar things around me.

My gaze drifted to a wooden box in the corner of the bookshelf, coated in dust.

It was the box my father used to keep his chess set in.

After my mother died, that box had never been opened again.

Something pulled me toward it. I lifted it down from the shelf.

It was heavy, carved with delicate patterns across the lid.

I blew off the dust and opened it.

Empty. No chess pieces inside.

Right. My father had smashed that white jade set with his own hands.

I was about to close the lid when something caught my eye. The bottom of the box looked slightly off.

I tapped it with my knuckles. A hollow sound came back.

A false bottom.

My heart started racing.

I worked my fingernail into the gap along the edge for what felt like forever, until finally a thin wooden panel came loose.

Underneath, resting quietly in the hidden compartment, was a small black USB drive.

Attached to it was a tiny label, written in my father's bold, distinctive handwriting:

"The Final Match."