Chapter 158 The Truth Beneath the Mask
Charlotte: POV
I nodded slowly, staring at Cole's trembling hands. The thought that this broken man might be my real father—that the imposter had tortured him into this state—made my hatred burn hotter than ever.
I wanted the imposter dead. I wanted to tear him apart with my bare hands, watch him suffer the way he'd made this man suffer.
"I'll stay in the room next to his," I said quietly to Olivia. "I need to be close. Just in case."
Michael shifted beside me, his protective instincts kicking in immediately. "Ms. Caldwell, if you're staying, I'm staying too."
I turned to look at him, catching the concern in his dark eyes. "Michael, you don't have to—"
"I'm not leaving you alone here." His tone left no room for argument. "Not after everything that's happened."
Something warm unfurled in my chest. I was so fucking tired of being strong, of holding everything together. Having Michael here, knowing he wouldn't let anything happen to me... it helped.
"Fine," I said, managing a small smile. "But you're staying in the room next door. There's no reason for you to be uncomfortable."
Michael's expression immediately shifted to stubborn determination. "No. I'm staying right here with you."
I raised an eyebrow, a mischievous impulse suddenly overtaking my exhaustion. "What, you mean in my bed?"
His face flushed instantly, a deep red creeping up his neck. "I—that's not—I meant I'll stay by your bedside. In the chair."
"Michael, that's going to be uncomfortable as hell," I protested, though I couldn't quite suppress the warmth spreading through my chest at his insistence.
"I don't care," he said firmly, though his ears were still red. "I'm not leaving you alone tonight. Not after everything that just happened."
I opened my mouth to argue again, but the look in his eyes stopped me—protective, worried, and absolutely immovable.
"Okay," I said softly, feeling something warm and comforting settle in my chest. "Okay, you can stay."
As he pulled the chair closer to my bedside, I realized how lucky I was to have someone who cared this much.
"Thank you," I whispered as I settled back against the pillows. "For being here."
The hospital room they gave me was sterile and cold, all white walls and the faint smell of disinfectant. I sat on the edge of the bed, still wearing my work clothes, unable to shake the image of that broken man's haunted eyes.
Michael positioned himself in the chair by the window, his posture alert despite the late hour. He'd changed into casual clothes—jeans and a dark t-shirt—but he still looked every inch the bodyguard, ready to spring into action at the slightest threat.
"You should try to sleep," he said quietly. "It's going to be a long day tomorrow when the results come in."
"I can't." I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold. "Every time I close my eyes, I see him. That man. The way someone destroyed him, piece by piece."
Michael stood and crossed to the bed, sitting down beside me but maintaining a respectful distance. "You can't think about that right now. You need to rest."
"How am I supposed to rest?" My voice cracked. "My whole life has been a lie, Michael. Everything I thought I knew about my family, about who I am—it's all bullshit."
He was quiet for a moment, then reached out and took my hand. His palm was warm and calloused, grounding me. "You're still Charlotte Caldwell. You're still the woman who stood up to your father, who took back her company, who refused to let anyone control her. That hasn't changed."
I looked down at our joined hands, feeling tears prick my eyes. "What if that man really is Cole Stone? What if someone replaced him and my mother never knew? She lived with an imposter, Michael. She shared her life, her bed, her home with a man who wasn't her husband."
"Then she was a victim too," Michael said firmly. "Just like you. Just like that man in there. The imposter is the monster here, not you, not your mother."
A knock sounded at the door, making me jump. Michael immediately stood, positioning himself between me and the entrance. "Who is it?"
"Dr. Carter," came the muffled reply. "I have the DNA results."
My heart stopped. It was too soon—we'd only done the test a few hours ago. But apparently Olivia had pulled some serious strings to get rush processing.
Michael opened the door, and Dr. Carter stepped inside, holding a manila envelope. He glanced around the room, then handed the report directly to me.
My hands shook as I opened it, flipping to the final page.
[Biological father-daughter relationship confirmed.]
[Sample identification: David Grant]
I stared at those two words, my brain struggling to process what I was seeing. The name in the genetic database wasn't Cole Stone—it was David Grant.
"Wait," I said, my voice sharp. "This says David Grant. But we tested the man who calls himself Cole Stone."
Dr. Carter nodded slowly. "The sample you provided matches the profile registered under the name David Grant in our genetic database. That's the identity associated with these genetic markers."
The room tilted. My vision blurred at the edges.
David Grant was my biological father. The broken man in the psychiatric ward—registered as Cole Stone—was actually David Grant. Which meant...
"The man who raised me," I whispered, my voice hollow. "The man I called father my entire life... he's Cole Stone. The real Cole Stone."
Michael's hand tightened on my shoulder. "What?"
"They switched identities," I said, my voice rising with hysteria. "Cole Stone—the real Cole Stone—he's the one who raised me. He's been pretending to be David Grant this whole time. And my actual biological father, David Grant, has been locked away in a psychiatric hospital, registered under Cole's name."
Dr. Carter cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I can't speak to the legal or personal implications of this situation, Ms. Caldwell. I can only confirm what the genetic testing shows—the man registered as Cole Stone in the psychiatric facility is biologically your father, David Grant."
The implications crashed over me in waves. Everything I thought I knew was backwards.
Cole Stone had stolen David Grant's life. He'd taken David's wife, raised David's daughter, run David's company—all while the real David Grant was locked away, drugged, tortured, broken beyond recognition.
"How long?" I asked, my voice barely audible. "How long has this been going on?"
Dr. Carter shook his head. "I don't have that information, Ms. Caldwell. I can only tell you what the DNA shows."
After he left, I sat frozen on the hospital bed, the report clutched in my trembling hands.
"Charlotte." Michael's voice was gentle but firm. "Breathe."
"My whole life," I whispered. "My entire fucking life, I've been living with the man who destroyed my real father. Cole Stone raised me. Cole Stone slept in my mother's bed. Cole Stone controlled everything."
"And now we know the truth," Michael said. "Now we can expose him."
I looked up at him, feeling something cold and hard settle in my chest. "He's not just an imposter, Michael. He's a monster. He didn't just steal David's identity—he systematically destroyed him. Turned him into that... that broken shell of a person."
"Dr. Carter," I called out just as he reached the door. "Can identical twins really be exactly the same?"
He turned back, studying me carefully. I could see him weighing his words, considering the implications.
"Dr. Carter, don't worry. I'm not recording this. And I'm asking about genetics and heredity from a medical standpoint—I'm not asking you to give me any kind of counsel or advice."
Sometimes doctors could face serious consequences for a single careless statement. That's why many physicians refused to discuss anything beyond a patient's immediate condition.
Dr. Carter was silent for a moment, then said, "Even with identical twins—even if their genes are exactly the same—their appearances can't be perfectly identical. There will always be differences. They're not clones. And besides, cloning technology is officially prohibited."