Kai stood there like a statue, eyes locked on the café entrance Clara had just stormed out of. The $7,000 she dropped sat like an insult on the table, a reminder that she didn't just win—she knew.
(She knew all along)
He clenched his jaw, fingers twitching beside the cup of coffee he hadn't even touched. The bitter smell rose up with the heat, mixing with the storm building inside his head.
"Sh*t," he whispered.
Truth be told, he'd almost told her everything. He wanted to. The truth was clawing its way up his throat, burning like acid. But somehow… she already knew. Not just a guess or hunch—she had proof.
Two signatures. One from the old life—Kai's life—and the other from this charade he'd been living. She had both. They where the same. Most importantly, it was different from The Real Tony's own.
And she knew D'Amico.
That was the final blow.
(Why...How...How did she know?)
He stood up slowly, his chair scraping back with a screech. He grabbed the cash but didn't count it. Didn't even look at the poor waiter who blinked awkwardly, clearly confused as hell.
Kai stepped outside. And the sky broke on him.
The Rain
Cold.
Sharp.
Painful.
Unforgiving.
The rain pelted him like glass needles, soaking his black hoodie within seconds. People ran past him with umbrellas and jackets. He didn't care. Didn't even blink.
He walked.
Down the street.
No destination.
No plan.
(Just... chaos.)
His mind was spinning like a busted roulette wheel.
"How long has she been watching me?"
"How long has she know me?"
"Was I always this easy to read?"
"How did she get those papers?"
"What the hell does D'Amico have to do with the real Tony?"
"Is this some kind of sick game?"
"What the hell is this?"
His steps were shaky now. The world around him blurred—water streaking down his face, his hair clinging to his forehead, his breath fogging with each exhale.
He turned a corner. Leaned against the brick wall of an old bakery.
"F**k."
He slid down until he was sitting in a puddle. His designer clothes—Tony's clothes—now ruined. It didn't matter. Nothing did in that moment.
Kai clutched his head, pulling at his damp hair.
"I never asked for this... I never ever did" he whispered, voice cracking. "I didn't ask to wake up in some rich guy's life. I just wanted to survive."
And now he wasn't even sure who he was anymore. Kai? Tony? A freak accident wearing a stolen skin?
Thunder rumbled in the distance. Cars splashed past him without slowing down. The world just kept moving, and of course not giving a damn.
"Maybe this was a punishment."
(Punishment he somewhat deserved.)
"Maybe this was never meant to be a second chance."
(It felt like Hell on Earth.)
He felt something tighten in his chest. A cold grip. The same one he felt that night when the gun was pressed to his head. That familiar emptiness.
His vision swam. His limbs were heavy.
He fell down. Flat.
"Is this it?"
"Is it all over?"
"Am I dying?"
"No... not again."
He tried to stand.
Failed.
The world tilted.
And then darkness started closing in around the edges of his eyes.
He blinked.
Blink.
Blink.
Then Blinked again.
And then—screech.
Tires.
Heavenly White.
A sleek white limo pulled up beside the sidewalk. Doors clicked open.
Kai forced his head up, eyes barely open. Through the blur, he saw a silhouette step out. High heels. Elegant dress. A presence that felt familiar.
"Is that Mi..."
That was all he could say before his body gave up on him completely.