PART 2
“We stayed in room 204, didn’t we?”
Without thinking, Sebastian corrected me.
“207. You wanted the room facing the courtyard.”
Then he stopped.
“Santiago told me.”
But I had never shared that detail with anyone.
Another day, I mentioned one of Santiago’s favorite restaurants and deliberately named the wrong meal.
Again, Sebastian corrected me automatically.
Then Camila found an old toy watch.
“Uncle Sebastian knew exactly where Daddy hid it,” she said happily.
That bothered me even more.
Eventually, I contacted Courtney, a woman Sebastian had dated years earlier.
She agreed to speak with him casually while I observed from a distance.
Courtney mentioned an old wrist injury Sebastian had received during high school.
He nodded politely.
“Yes, it still bothers me sometimes.”
Later, Courtney joined me outside.
Her expression was serious.
“Mariana, something feels wrong.”
“What?”
“The man inside knows the story about Sebastian’s wrist. But he doesn’t seem to remember the details around it.”
Then she added quietly:
“And when he laughs, he sounds exactly like Santiago.”
That afternoon, I went to the Travis County Sheriff’s Office.
Detective Lucia Hernandez listened carefully while I explained everything.
The scar.
The hotel.
The old memories.
The wrist injury.
She didn’t dismiss me.
But she also didn’t jump to conclusions.
“Memories alone aren’t proof,” she said. “Let us look into it.”
I agreed.
Unfortunately, my husband noticed that I had become distant.
A few days later, I came home and found several members of our family gathered in the living room.
Sebastian sat among them.
He looked worried.
“Mariana hasn’t been herself lately,” he said. “I think losing Santiago is affecting her again.”
That was when I realized he was preparing everyone to doubt me.
I remained calm.
“I’m not confused.”
Then I looked directly at him.
“You have Santiago’s scar.”
His expression changed instantly.
I turned toward Teresa.
“Mom, I think we need to consider the possibility that something about the accident was misunderstood.”
Teresa stared at me.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’m not sure we know who survived.”
The room went silent.
I packed a bag and stayed with my parents while investigators looked into the case.
My former therapist later confirmed that I had received support for grief and insomnia after Santiago’s death, but there had never been concerns about me losing touch with reality.
Then Detective Hernandez found something important.
Before the accident, Santiago had been involved in serious financial misconduct at the company where he worked.
He had lost a large amount of money and tried to hide the losses through false records.
Sebastian discovered what had happened.
He saved copies of the documents and sent them to a trusted friend for safekeeping.
On the day of the accident, both brothers were traveling together.
Santiago was supposedly planning to tell the company the truth.
Three days later, Detective Hernandez asked me to return to the station.
She placed a folder on the desk.
“We located older fingerprint records for both brothers.”
I held my breath.
“Identical twins can look extremely similar,” she explained. “But fingerprints are unique.”
Then she looked directly at me.
“The man currently using Sebastian’s identity has Santiago’s fingerprints.”
For several seconds, I couldn’t move.
The man I had married was not Sebastian.
He was Santiago.
My first husband.
The man I had mourned for three years.
The investigation slowly reconstructed what had happened.
Santiago had been under enormous financial pressure.
He made one poor decision.
Then another.
Each mistake required another lie to hide the previous one.
Sebastian eventually discovered the truth and confronted him.
He told Santiago he needed to take responsibility.
Santiago agreed.
