Chapter 2 Episode 2

TAMERA'S POV

How long have I been here? Days maybe? I couldn't tell. All I could know was that I have just been sitted on this same cold cell floor, staring at the same god damn ceiling.

How had my life turned out like this?

How had Max, the man I loved with every fiber of my being, become a stranger to me? The man who had promised to protect me, to cherish me, had thrown me into this cell like I was nothing.

I closed my eyes, trying to block it out, but it was all there-the accusations, the shouting, and then the police. I heard footsteps, and I snapped out of my daze. A warden approached the bars, her keys jingling as she unlocked the door.

"Someone's here for you," she said.

A visitor? I frowned. Who could it be? This was the first visitor I had had since being brought here. I wasn't exactly one with a lot of friends or even any at that so the situation was strange.

Could it be Max? Had he finally come back for me? Pathetic as it might sound, a small part of me still clung to the hope that, one day, he would uncover the truth and take me away from this miserable cell.

But when I entered the small visiting room, the hope that had swelled in my chest faded instantly. Sitting across the table was a man I had never seen before. He was wearing a suit, but there was something off about him, something in the way he looked at me, too intense, like he knew something I didn't.

"Who are you?" I asked, not bothering to hide my disappointment as I settled in.

The man leaned back in his chair, his eyes studying me like I was a puzzle he was trying to solve.

"My name's Detective Marcus," he said. "I've been looking for you for a long time."

I frowned, feeling confused. Besides this theft I had just been framed with, I don't see myself to have any business with a detective. So why has he been looking for me?

"Looking for me? I don't know you."

He nodded slowly, as if he expected that answer. "No, I don't suppose you do. But I know you. Or at least, I thought I knew what happened to you."

"What are you talking about?" I demanded.

My patience was already running thin. I wasn't in the mood for games.

The detective watched me closely, leaning forward. "What's your real name?"

I blinked, thrown by the question. "What? My name is Tamara."

He narrowed his eyes. "Tamara what?"

"Tamara Evans. What does that have to do with anything?"

The detective's mouth quirked into a strange smile, like he knew something I didn't.

"Evans... right." He shook his head slowly. "You don't remember anything, do you?"

"Remember what?" I snapped, feeling frustrated. "What are you even talking about?"

Before I could react, the man leaned forward suddenly and plucked a strand of hair from my head. I yelped, jerking back in surprise. "What the hell are you doing?"

He ignored my outburst, carefully placing the strand of hair into a small plastic bag.

"Just checking something," he said dryly, standing up.

"Wait, where are you going?" I demanded, but he didn't answer.

He gave me one last strange look before turning and leaving the room, leaving me sitting there, completely confused.

I was left alone, my mouth open. Who was that man? What did he want? And what the hell did he mean by 'checking something'?

It was a strange encounter. Days passed, and I didn't see the peculiar man again, but my mind remained filled with confusion. What had he wanted? And why had he taken a strand of my hair?

So they let crazy people conduct investigations now? The thought seemed absurd, yet I couldn't shake it off.

Giving up the thought, I drifted back into my miserable routine, slowly acclimating to the monotony until, days later, another message arrived.

"You have a visitor..."

A visitor? Again? My heart skipped, but reality quickly tempered my hopes. Who could it be this time? I knew it couldn't be Max.

I went to see whoever it was. There were an older man and woman, both dressed in expensive, luxurious clothes. I recognized them immediately. Everyone in the country knew who they were. Daniela and Kenneth Johnson. The wealthiest couple in the city, maybe even the country. I'd seen their faces on TV, in magazines, on blogs. But what were they doing here? Why were they visiting me?

I glanced behind me, wondering if this was some mistake. But the moment our eyes met, something strange happened. They both froze, staring at me like they'd seen a ghost. Daniela raised her hand to her mouth. Instantly, her eyes filled with tears.

"Tammie?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

I frowned, confusion swirling in my mind.

"No," I said slowly, shaking my head. "My name is Tamara."

Well, maybe Tammie as a nickname but I never liked it when anyone called me Tammie, it is uncomfortable.

But before I could say anything else, the woman rushed forward, throwing her arms around me in a tight embrace. "Oh my God, Tammie! It's really you!"

I stood there, stiff and confused, as the woman sobbed against my shoulder. "What... what are you talking about?"

The man, Kenneth, stood up slowly. His eyes were filled with unshed tears as he watched us.

"We thought you were dead," he said. "We thought we lost you in that accident all those years ago. You're our daughter."

I pulled away from the woman, Daniela, shaking my head.

"I think you have the wrong person," I said, my voice shaky. "I'm not your daughter. My name is Tamara Evans."

But Daniela shook her head, her tears falling freely. "No, no... you're our daughter. Tammie Johnson. You don't remember because of the accident."

"Accident?" I repeated, completely lost.

Kenneth stepped closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You were in a terrible car accident. We thought you had died. The body they found in the wreck was burned beyond recognition, but it was wearing your favorite necklace. We thought it was you, but it wasn't."

I shook my head, trying to wrap my mind around their words. "This can't be right. My husband, Max, he-"

Daniela gasped. "Husband? You're married?"

"Yes," I said. "Max Evans."

The couple exchanged a glance, and I could see the confusion on their faces.

"We need to explain everything," Daniela said gently. "But first, we need you to understand that we're your real family. We did a DNA test... the hair the detective pulled from you. It matched."

My legs felt weak, and the room spun. That's why the detective pulled a lock of my hair?

DNA test? None of this made sense. How could I be someone else? "What are you talking about?" It was hard to absorb everything they were saying. I felt incredibly tired, so tired that, for some reason, my vision began to blur.

Their voices faded into the background of my mind. It was all too much to process. I couldn't believe this was happening.

I started to ask more questions, but the words didn't come. My vision blurred, and before I could process anything, the world went black.