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The emergency alert from my son Leo' s smartwatch vibrated against my wrist-SOS. I found him face down in the pool, still. My wife, Jessica, stood by the edge, phone in hand, a glass of wine beside her, looking utterly bored. "He' s just faking it again, Liam. He' s trying to get attention," she said, as I pulled Leo' s limp body from the water. My world shattered, and with it, a dam of forgotten memories broke. My name isn' t Liam Hayes; it' s Noah Miller. I' d been in an accident, given amnesia, and then reshaped through countless surgeries into Liam' s spitting image-Jessica' s dead fiancé. I had been nothing more than a replacement, a puppet in a life that wasn' t mine. To find out Liam wasn't even dead, that he was sleeping with my wife right under my nose? It was unbearable. Leo knew. He knew Liam wasn't his father. That's why he fell in the pool. He didn' t fall, he sacrificed himself to expose the truth. Jessica knew he was terrified of water. And she let him drown, to punish him for revealing her carefully constructed lie. While my son lay dying, Jessica and Liam were celebrating their anniversary, taking smiling photos for the social pages. The grief was suffocating, but a cold, hard rage solidified in my chest. I cradled my son' s lifeless body, pulling out my phone. My fingers trembled as I scrolled past Jessica' s name and stopped at Evelyn Reed, her mother. When she answered, I said, "Evelyn, this is Noah Miller. I remember everything. Leo is dead. And it' s time for me to leave." The party was over, and my vengeance was just beginning.