Chapter 2

“Who *are* you? Why do you look exactly like Victor Hayes? Where's the real Victor Hayes?”

I replied calmly, “The car accident three years ago. That's when I became Victor Hayes.”

“Three years ago?”

Detective Miller flipped through his files. “April 21st, three years ago, Victor Hayes was involved in a car crash on Highway 301.

The vehicle caught fire. His driver, Arthur, was pronounced dead. Victor Hayes was unharmed...”

“You're Arthur.” Detective Miller stated, certainty in his voice.

I simply smiled, neither confirming nor denying.

“We've checked. You had no deep-seated animosity towards the Hayes family. Quite the opposite, they treated you well. High wages, Victor himself would often share good liquor and cigars with you. Eleanor even tried to set you up with women, seeing you as a lonely single man.”

“So what was your motive for murder? Was it simply pure envy of their wealth and happiness?”

“You've successfully assumed Victor Hayes's identity, living a lavish life without anyone suspecting. You've been living the high life. I don't understand why you killed Eleanor. If it was just to tie up loose ends, you made no effort to clean the crime scene.”

I replied, “Officer, you have a lot of questions. If you want the truth, I have a condition.”

Detective Miller frowned. “Remember your current status. A criminal has no right to make demands.”

“Then you'll never know where the child is.”

It had been a day since the child disappeared. A one-year-old has no chance of survival on their own, so the police had no choice but to compromise.

“I want Milo to live stream himself kneeling before me.”

It was a strange demand. Detective Miller went out to send someone to negotiate with Milo.

He would agree. Because when I cut off his legs, I also crushed his manhood. That child was his only remaining heir, his only hope for a family. He had to compromise for him.

Milo, still not out of danger, was wheeled into the police station.

He started the live stream, then painfully crawled off his wheelchair, scuttling like a dog to my feet, kowtowing repeatedly.

“Please, I beg you! All the mistakes are ours! If we ever offended you, just kill me! Please, don't harm my son!”

Seeing his pathetic, disgraced state, a smirk of satisfaction played on my lips.

The live stream comments were filled with insults against me. Some even threatened to dox me and dig up my entire past.

Milo's eyes burned with hatred as he looked at me, his lips bitten raw. “I've kowtowed. Now will you tell me where my son is?”

I looked down on him, sneering, “When did I ever promise I'd tell you just because you kowtowed?”

“You! You son of a bitch! I'll kill you!”

He lunged at me, his face contorted with rage through the iron bars, as if he wanted to tear my flesh with his teeth.

I burst into laughter.

Detective Miller couldn't stand it. He tapped his baton against the bars, warning me.

I stopped laughing and told Detective Miller, “Agree to one more thing, and I'll tell you exactly where the child is.”

Detective Miller's face was grim. “Don't waste our police resources and time. We don't have time to play games with you. No matter how much you stall, you can't change your death sentence!”

I shrugged. “Fine by me. Then the child can join me in the grave.”

“No, no, no! Detective Miller, agree to his terms! My son can't be harmed!” Milo grabbed Detective Miller's pant leg, snot and tears streaming down his face.