Victor turned to the villagers with righteous fury.
“Fellow villagers, this scum doesn't deserve to go to college! I say we send him straight to the police and let the law deal with him!”
The crowd erupted in agreement.
A few strong men stepped forward, faces grim, clearly intending to “escort” me to the police station themselves.
But just as they were about to grab me—
Wooo—ooo!
A sharp siren pierced the air.
Moments later, several police cars screeched to a halt at the courtyard gate.
Fully armed officers stormed in, weapons drawn, their voices loud and commanding.
“Everyone freeze! Police investigation is underway! Nobody moves!”
Relief washed over me like a crashing wave.
My legs gave out, and I collapsed to the ground, trembling.
I called the police—just in time.
---
In the cold, sterile interrogation room at the station, I sat handcuffed to a metal chair across from two detectives.
The older officer flipped through a thick file.
“Ryan. Provincial college entrance exam top scorer,” he read aloud, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t expect someone your age to see through Victor’s scheme so quickly.”
I gave a weak smile, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I almost died… in the park. If it weren’t for…”
I stopped.
How could I explain rebirth?
That I had already lived through this once—died, even?
They’d think I was insane.
Luckily, the officer didn’t press.
Instead, he continued calmly, “That call you made from the airport saved your life. We’ve already taken Victor, his son Jeremy, and the impersonator—yes, the one who underwent plastic surgery to look like you—into custody.”
I nodded, numb.
It was over.
The nightmare was finally over.
I hesitated before asking, “What about… my family?”
The officer sighed and closed the file.
“Your sister, Emily Carter-Reed, and your brother-in-law, Daniel, have been temporarily detained. They're suspected of aiding and abetting Victor in the attempted kidnapping and murder.”
“But…” he paused, “There are… circumstances.”
“Circumstances?” I frowned. “What do you mean?”
The officer glanced at the door. “Do you want to see someone? Someone named Julian?”
---
Ten minutes later, the door opened again.
A small boy, no more than five years old, was led inside.
He stood nervously by the threshold, his eyes red and puffy from crying.
“Hello… uncle,” he said softly, his voice shaking.
I froze.
There was something eerily familiar with his eyes—they looked just like mine. His nose resembled my sister’s.
“Who… who is he?” I asked, stunned.
“Julian Reed,” the officer replied. “Your sister’s son.”
The words hit me like a truck.
