“A Little Girl Was Hiding Inside Our Walls—Then She Called Me ‘Daddy’”

Ryan read the names three times.

Owen reached for the photo, then stopped.

"No."

The boys in the picture were nearly identical, but one had a tiny notch through his left eyebrow.

Owen had that scar.

Ryan did not.

Their mother had labeled scarred boy: RYAN.

The boy without the scar: OWEN.

Ryan sat down.

His whole life shifted beneath him.

"I'm Owen."

The man across from him whispered, "And I'm Ryan."

Ruiz immediately warned them not to jump to conclusions. Records could be wrong. Photos could be mislabeled.

But Ryan remembered his father after the river.

You don't remember things right when you're scared.

He remembered nightmares of being underwater even though everyone said he had never entered the river.

He remembered his father correcting him whenever he mentioned a scar he thought he once had.

Owen—Ryan—covered his mouth.

"He switched us."

The truth emerged piece by piece.

Their father had intended to abduct Ryan, the legal heir favored by their grandfather. During the staged river accident, the twins were separated and confused. He took the scarred boy. The other returned home in shock and was identified as Ryan because that was the son their father claimed had survived.

Victor knew.

The inheritance had gone to the wrong twin.

"That's why he needed both of us," Ryan said. "If anyone discovered the switch, he could control whichever identity helped him."

Ruiz's phone buzzed.

DNA results from an emergency comparison to stored Mercer family samples confirmed they were brothers, but identity would require more records.

Then another message arrived.

A fire alarm had activated at the Mercer house.

Ryan stood so fast his chair fell.

"The red phone."

Ruiz grabbed her coat. "Victor is burning the evidence."

Emma suddenly cried out.

"Bunny!"