Chapter 3: Becoming Samuel Greene

“He has an alibi.”

The words tasted like poison. I watched her face crumble, her shoulders shaking.

Mariah suddenly grabbed my shirt, her voice trembling. “Tell me… how much pain must Sadie have felt…”

She pulled me close, her tears soaking my collar. I held her, feeling her heart pounding against mine. The weight of her grief pressed down on both of us.

I held her tightly in my arms. “I swear, I’ll make the murderer pay ten or a hundred times over.”

My voice cracked. I made a promise I didn’t know how to keep, but I meant every word. I would trade anything to bring Sadie back, but all I had left was vengeance.

“I… I believe you…” Mariah nodded gently against my chest.

Her voice was barely audible, her breath warm against my skin. I stroked her hair, wishing I could take away her pain.

But that night, Mariah jumped off the balcony.

The world ended a second time. I woke to the sound of sirens, the shouts of neighbors, the paramedics’ hurried footsteps. I ran to the balcony, screaming her name, but she was already gone.

Overnight, my hair turned white. Staring at my wife and daughter in the morgue, I couldn’t cry anymore.

The mirror showed a stranger—eyes hollow, hair bleached by shock and grief. I stood between two stainless steel tables, surrounded by the smell of antiseptic. My family, cold and silent, lay before me. I was empty.

Marcus stood beside me, smoking. “My condolences…”

He offered a cigarette, but I shook my head. The smoke curled toward the ceiling, disappearing into the humming fluorescent lights. His voice was softer than usual, almost fatherly.

Around the same time the homeless man confessed, the Caldwell family moved out of the city.

It was in the news—just a quiet note in the real estate section. No one asked questions. The house was listed, the movers came, and the Caldwell name faded from local gossip.

I understood that some things would never see justice—

Some stories end with the bad guy walking free. Some wounds never close. I felt the world tilt, a little colder, a little darker.

I would live for only one thing: revenge.

It became my reason for waking up, the only thing that kept me moving. I let go of everything else—friends, work, the house. All I wanted was to make them pay.

That night, I found Marcus.

I waited for him outside the precinct, catching him as he lit another cigarette. He looked surprised to see me, but didn’t turn away.

“Help me!”

My voice broke. I grabbed his sleeve, desperate. He looked at me for a long time, then nodded.

He patted my shoulder. “I have a daughter the same age as Sadie…”

His words hit me like a punch. For a second, I saw Sadie’s face, bright and laughing. Marcus’s eyes were wet, his grip firm. He squeezed my shoulder, then glanced around before pulling a small USB drive from his pocket.

When he left, as he was walking away, he handed me a USB drive containing all the surveillance footage and crime scene photos.

He pressed it into my hand, his fingers lingering for a second. “This is everything we have,” he whispered. “Don’t let anyone see you with it.”

“I don’t know exactly where they’ve gone… sigh… just don’t do anything stupid!”

He looked away, his voice thick. I nodded, tucking the drive into my jacket. We stood in silence, the city buzzing around us. I turned and walked into the night, the weight of the USB heavy in my pocket.

I sold the house, quit my job, and found the best plastic surgeon I could, forging new documents.

The process was grueling—consultations, forms, endless waiting rooms. I emptied the savings account, sold everything of value. My old life disappeared, piece by piece.

“Are you sure?” the doctor asked one last time.

He studied my face, searching for a crack in my resolve. I hesitated, just for a moment. Then I nodded. I had nothing left to lose.

“I’m sure.”

My voice was steady. I watched my reflection fade as the anesthesia took hold. The world went dark, and I let it.

I’ve stared at this face for two years. It still feels like a stranger’s.

The skin was tighter, the eyes different. I practiced smiling, frowning, raising my eyebrows. Sometimes I caught glimpses of the man I used to be, but mostly, I was a stranger.

Thick eyebrows, slightly drooping eyes, a nose bridge more prominent than before.

I traced the new lines with my fingers, memorizing every detail. I practiced speaking in front of the mirror, changing my posture, my walk. I became someone else.

“Samuel Greene, forty-eight years old, former estate manager for a foreign executive, no criminal record, single…”

I rehearsed the story until it felt natural. I learned everything about Samuel Greene—his hobbies, his habits, his past. I built a new life from scratch.

I practiced the background story of my new identity in front of the mirror.

I spoke in a lower register, added a slight Midwestern lilt. I researched estate management, learned to tie a Windsor knot, memorized the layout of mansions I’d never seen.

Richard Caldwell was looking to hire an experienced estate manager.

The job posting was discreet, but I found it. I sent in my resume, references forged and polished. I waited, nerves frayed, for the call.

For three years, I searched nearly every wealthy neighborhood in every big city I could think of, just to find out where the Caldwell family had gone.

I scanned real estate records, school rosters, social media posts. I followed rumors and whispers, piecing together their trail. Every false lead was a gut punch, but I kept going.

Richard Caldwell bought property in the Rosewood Estates in Silver Hollow, and Ethan attended a private international academy.

The address was tucked away in an online alumni newsletter. I printed out the map, tracing the route with my finger. The house was enormous, the kind of place with a gate and a circular driveway.

I took a deep breath, wiped my phone, and tossed it into the sewer.

I watched it disappear, swallowed by darkness and rushing water. My last link to my old life, gone. I was Samuel Greene now, and nothing else mattered.

From now on, I was no longer David Harper, but Samuel Greene, about to apply for the Caldwell family’s estate manager position.

I straightened my tie, checked my forged ID one last time. My heart hammered in my chest, but I kept my hands steady. I walked up to the gate, ready to begin the next chapter of my life.

The security guard at Rosewood Estates checked my ID and letter of recommendation carefully.

He was friendly, chatty. Asked about my drive, the weather. I tried to act normal. The guard nodded, satisfied.

“Mr. Greene, right? Mr. Caldwell’s house is at No. 18, all the way at the end. Just go straight down this road and you’ll see it.”

He pointed down the manicured lane, lined with cherry trees and stone lanterns. The houses grew larger, more imposing, as I walked.

He gave me directions enthusiastically.

He even offered a map of the community, circling Caldwell’s house in red. “They’re good people,” he said, “but real private.” I nodded, thanking him before heading on my way.

I rang the doorbell.

The chime was deep and resonant, echoing through the foyer. My palms sweated inside my gloves. I smoothed my hair, trying to look composed.

“Samuel Greene?” The door was opened by a middle-aged woman. “I’m Linda, the Caldwell family’s head housekeeper. Mr. Caldwell is waiting for you.”

She wore a crisp navy uniform, her hair pulled back in a tight bun. She smiled politely, stepping aside to let me in. The entryway smelled faintly of lemon polish and fresh flowers.

In the living room, Richard Caldwell was sitting on a leather sofa, reading documents.

The room was immaculate, every surface gleaming. Caldwell barely looked up, his posture relaxed but commanding. A silver pen glinted between his fingers.

I forced my trembling hands to steady and nodded. “Hello, Mr. Caldwell.”

I kept my voice even, meeting his gaze. I handed over my resume, standing tall. My heart thudded, but I didn’t let it show.

He looked up at me. “I heard you worked for the Andersons for ten years? Why did you leave?”

His tone was measured, his eyes sharp. He studied me as if searching for cracks in my story.

“Mr. Anderson moved his family overseas, and my elderly mother needs care, so I stayed behind.” I recited the lie I’d memorized countless times.

I kept my hands folded in front of me, my posture respectful. I’d practiced this story until it felt like the truth.

Richard Caldwell put down his document. “Your letter of recommendation is impressive. But I need someone absolutely loyal. Can you do that?”

He leaned forward, his gaze intense. The room felt colder, the air heavy with unspoken threats.

I looked him in the eye. “Loyalty is my professional creed, Mr. Caldwell.”

I held his gaze, letting the silence stretch. He nodded, apparently satisfied, and leaned back.

Footsteps came from upstairs.

The sound was light, almost hesitant. I turned, my breath catching in my throat.

A tall, slender teenager slowly came down, wearing a private school uniform and holding a book.

His hair was longer now, his features sharper. He moved with a quiet confidence, eyes scanning the room before settling on me.

My breathing quickened.

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stay calm. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to scream, to do something, but I held still.

Compared to the thin boy from three years ago, Ethan Caldwell was now much taller and more mature, but his eyes were just as cold.

They were the same eyes I’d seen in that police file, the same eyes that haunted my nightmares. He smiled, polite and empty.

Richard Caldwell introduced us. “Ethan, this is the new estate manager, Samuel Greene.”

His voice was warm, almost proud. Ethan nodded, stepping forward.

Ethan looked at me and nodded politely. “Hello, Mr. Greene.”

His voice was soft, pleasant. He extended a hand, his grip surprisingly firm. I forced myself not to flinch.

His voice was gentle and polite, showing no hint of anything unusual.

He could have been any honor student, any neighbor’s kid. But I knew better. I swallowed hard, keeping my expression neutral.

“Hello, Ethan.” I forced myself to smile, my nails digging into my palm to keep myself focused.

My jaw ached from clenching my teeth. I smiled, careful not to let the mask slip. Ethan’s gaze lingered on me a moment longer before he turned away.

Richard Caldwell stood up. “Alright, Samuel, Linda will show you your room and explain your duties. You start work officially tomorrow.”

He shook my hand, his grip strong. Linda beckoned, leading me down the hall. I exhaled slowly, heart still racing.

My room was on the ground floor of the house, spacious and tidy, with a small bathroom attached.

The bed was neatly made, the walls painted a soothing beige. A small window overlooked the garden. I unpacked my single suitcase, lining up my new life in tidy rows.

Linda walked me through my duties—managing Caldwell’s schedule, keeping track of the cars, and handling the family’s private business.

She handed me a binder, thick with checklists and contact numbers. “Mr. Caldwell likes things done a certain way,” she said. “You’ll get used to it.”

Linda lowered her voice. “Mr. Caldwell is very busy and often travels for work. His wife… passed away five years ago, so the household mostly looks after Ethan. The boy is outstanding—he even won first prize in the national youth science and technology innovation competition last year.”

She smiled, pride and sadness mingling in her eyes. “He’s a good kid, very focused. Keeps to himself, mostly.” I nodded, biting back my disgust.

I forced down my disgust and nodded. “That’s really impressive.”

My voice was steady, but my stomach churned. I reminded myself to play the part, to keep my true feelings buried deep.

I couldn’t sleep. Every creak, every whisper made me jump. Late at night, I lay on the bed, listening to every sound in the house.

The hatred that had built up over three years ran through my veins like poison.