The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of truth and deception. Tony had opened his mouth to say something—anything—but the words caught in his throat. He was done playing games. If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that the lies were starting to crack. And Clara? She wasn't playing by the same rules anymore.
Clara tilted her head slightly, she was still studying him as if she were reading a book she already knew by heart.
"I guess this is the part where I tell you the truth," Tony muttered, almost more to himself than to her. His fingers drummed on the edge of his coffee cup. He met her gaze, his expression a mix of defiance and exhaustion.
"Clara," he began slowly, his voice softer than he intended, "I'm not who you think I am."
She didn't flinch. She didn't even blink.
"I know," she said, her voice as calm as ever.
Tony's heart skipped a beat. He could feel the tension coil around them like a wire, ready to snap.
"I was playing along, alright? I wasn't—"
Before he could finish, Clara cut him off with a flick of her wrist, pulling something out of her bag. Two papers. Two signatures. The weight of the moment seemed to press down on him as she laid them on the table between them, side by side.
"These," she began, her fingers trailing over the paper, "are two signatures from two different times. The first one...," she tapped the paper on the left, "was signed on January 16th."
Tony froze. January 16th. The day before... before everything changed. The day Kai was still Kai.
She looked at him, and for the first time, Tony saw a hint of a smile. It wasn't smug or self-satisfied. It was something else—something quieter, like she was letting him in on something only she understood.
"The other," she said, tapping the second paper, "was signed on February 4th. A few weeks after you... became Tony Bellingham."
Tony's pulse spiked as his mind raced. That signature, the one from February, was his. But the January 16th one? That had to be Kai's. He stared at the two signatures side by side, and a strange chill ran through him.
"You see," Clara continued, leaning back slightly in her chair, "I know the difference between the two. The signature you signed in January was... different. You were still you, Kai. That was when you signed to pay your debt that day or you could be...Anyway..but the one from February... it's not you anymore. It's like you're... someone else. It doesn't match."
Tony's head swam with the implications. He looked down at the papers again, the two signatures standing like two sides of a coin he couldn't flip. He had never expected her to have something like this. To be able to catch him in his lies so easily.
He opened his mouth to respond, but the words wouldn't come. His brain was moving too fast, trying to piece together how this had all come to be.
"So," he said finally, his voice shaky but trying to hold onto some semblance of control. "You figured it all out. But... how? How did you know?"
Clara didn't blink. She just gave him a smile, like she was waiting for him to catch up.
"Did you really think I wouldn't notice?" she asked, her voice smooth. "Kai, I kinda know.....D.....D'Amico."
At the mention of the name, Tony's heart nearly stopped. D'Amico. The name hung in the air like a noose.
"How do you know him?" Tony blurted out, unable to stop himself.
Clara leaned forward, her gaze piercing. "Because you took a $90,000 loan from him, Kai," she said, her voice low and matter-of-fact. "You took the money, and then... well, let's just say you disappeared after you couldn't pay him back.
Tony's throat tightened. He felt a cold sweat trickle down his back. D'Amico was the reason everything had spiraled out of control. The reason he had ended up in the body of Tony Bellingham. The reason for all of this.
Before he could say anything, Clara was already speaking again, cutting through his thoughts.
"Don't worry," she said, "I know all about the debt. And about your... little accident." Her eyes softened for a moment, and Tony could swear she almost felt pity for him.
That was enough to make him want to throw something. To scream. To fight back.
But he couldn't. Not when she was so damn calm about it all. Not when she knew more about his past than he had ever wanted anyone to know.
Clara pulled a small envelope out of her bag and slid it across the table toward him. "Here," she said simply. "Take this."
Tony glanced down at the envelope, his brow furrowing. He didn't trust her. Not one bit. But curiosity gnawed at him. He picked it up, tore it open, and pulled out the thick wad of cash inside.
Seven thousand dollars.
"Seven thousand?" he asked, staring at her in disbelief. "What the hell is this for?"
Clara looked at him, her gaze cool but knowing. "To pay for the waiter. Consider it a... tip," she said, her voice still calm, as though she was talking about the weather.
Tony didn't know what to say. He wasn't sure what he expected, but this... this wasn't it. He stared at the money, his fingers numbing as he held it in his hands.
Before he could react, Clara stood up, smooth and quick, like she was already planning her escape.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice light but laced with something he couldn't quite place. "And, Tony?"
He looked up, but she was already halfway across the café, moving with a purpose.
"Don't get too comfortable, He could find out." she said over her shoulder, the smile playing at her lips. "I wanna tell you more, I really want to but I.... can't. I'm sorry."
And with that, she was gone.
Tony sat there, stunned. The café felt too quiet all of a sudden. The hum of conversation, the clink of cups, it all seemed so distant. He felt his pulse racing again, his mind spinning. He was left with more questions than answers. And the one question that kept circling in his head was the only one that mattered right now:
What the hell had just happened?