By the time the police brought me into the surveillance room, my palms were already slick with cold sweat.

"Take a look for yourself!"

Detective Taylor tapped on the keyboard, and the footage appeared on the screen.

My eyes narrowed sharply.

In the video, a figure in a white coat pushed open the door to Sebastian’s hospital room. The camera angle was awkward, making it impossible to see the face clearly. By the way he walked and the slight downward tilt of his head…

It looked exactly like me.

Movements could be imitated. I was just about to argue that, but then I saw it.

Right before leaving, the figure lifted his head and glanced straight at the camera.

That single moment was clear enough to see his face.

It was me.

"That’s… impossible…" My voice trembled.

Detective Taylor looked at me. "That's you, isn’t it, Bentley Cooke?"

Dr. Brown paused the video and zoomed in on the face. "See? It’s identical to you."

"So what do you have to say now?" he said, arms crossed, a mocking smile curling at his lips. "A doctor who harms his own patient."

Outside the door, the shouting rose and fell like waves.

"Death penalty!"

"A life for a life!"

"Someone like that shouldn’t be a doctor!"

My mother suddenly dropped to her knees in front of the officers, crying as she begged them to show mercy, to give me a way out.

Detective Taylor stated coldly, "Murder is punishable by execution."

The moment my mother heard that, she collapsed to the ground.

My mind went blank. This couldn’t be real…

I had been in Ashford Hollow. The person in the footage… even his mannerisms were identical to mine. What the hell was going on?

"Detective Taylor, you should take this murderer away now," Dr. Langford said from the side.

"Wait!" Something flashed through my mind. "I have an alibi!"

Detective Taylor raised a brow. "Explain."

"I was at Greenridge Resort when this happened," I said quickly. "I’ve been checked in for the past three days. The front desk and their surveillance footage can prove it."

The room fell silent for a moment.

"Check it," Detective Taylor said, signaling to another policeman.

Dr. Whitaker let out a cold laugh. "Coming up with excuses now? Don’t you think it’s a little late?"

I ignored him completely, staring straight at Detective Taylor. "Call the hotel owner. He can confirm it."

Every second of waiting felt like an entire year.

Finally, two hours later, a middle-aged man drenched in sweat was brought into the surveillance room.

"Mr. Grant Keller," the officer said, pointing at me, "do you recognize this man?"

Mr. Keller squinted at me for a few seconds, then suddenly slapped his thigh. "Isn’t this Mr. Cooke from Room 308? He stayed three days and checked out this morning!"

"You’re sure?" Dr. Whitaker’s expression changed.

"Of course!" Mr. Keller pulled out his phone. "We take a photo of every guest at check-in for records. Look."

On the screen was a photo of me at the front desk, checking in.

Timestamp: 3:27 PM, three days ago.

"And also…" Mr. Keller pulled up several clips of surveillance footage. "Mr. Cooke’s been with us the whole time. Last night, he was even barbecuing in the courtyard."

The footage clearly showed that at the time of the incident, at 3.42 a.m., I was sitting in the guesthouse courtyard, smoking.

The atmosphere in the room shifted.

Detective Taylor’s expression grew serious as he compared the two sets of footage over and over again.

In one, someone who resembled me appeared in the hospital room.

In the other, the real me was miles away at Greenridge Resort.

"They’re definitely working together!"

A blond-haired young man holding up his phone suddenly pushed his way to the front. He aimed the camera straight at Mr. Keller’s face and shouted, "How much did he pay you?! You’re actually helping a murderer fake evidence!"

Mr. Keller’s face flushed red. "That’s nonsense! We have full surveillance footage—"

"Who says surveillance footage can’t be fake? Everything can be fabricated these days!" a middle-aged woman beside him chimed in, her phone nearly shoved into my face.

Detective Taylor raised a hand, signaling for silence. "We will investigate this thoroughly." His sharp gaze swept over Mr. Keller and me. "Providing false testimony carries legal consequences."

"I didn’t lie," Mr. Keller insisted. "The footage is real."

Detective Taylor glanced at me. "If it’s just one piece of surveillance footage, it doesn’t prove much. But at the crime scene, we found a number of items connected to you, including a surgical scalpel—the kind you would use in your procedures—and a strand of hair."

Detective Taylor turned toward the forensic staff, Dr. Hannah Reeves. "Are the test results ready?"

"Almost." Dr. Reeves checked her watch. "DNA testing will take another twenty minutes."

Those twenty minutes were pure torment. I stared at the clock on the wall, listening to the waves of curses echoing from outside the door.

Ellie stood to the side, gripping a critical condition notice in her hand. The paper crinkled softly under the pressure of her fingers.

Twenty minutes later, Dr. Reeves walked in. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on her gloved hands.

"The results are in." She raised a report. "The hair found under the victim’s fingernails..."

My heart nearly stopped.

"...is a complete DNA match with Bentley Cooke."

The moment I heard that, despair swallowed me whole.

If it weren’t for the fact that I had been in Ashford Hollow that night with a solid alibi, the police might have taken me away on the spot.

The hallway exploded.

"So it really was him!"

"Murderer!"

"Death penalty!"

Ellie suddenly collapsed to the floor, letting out a heart-wrenching cry.

"Dr. Cooke…" Detective Taylor’s expression turned complicated. "Do you have anything else to say?"

I stared at the report, then suddenly laughed. "I’m a senior attending physician at a top-tier hospital, making $600,000 a year. Why would I kill a cancer patient?"

The room fell silent for a moment.

"That’s true…" Dr. Brown muttered under his breath. "He doesn’t have a motive…"

Detective Taylor nodded thoughtfully. "Dr. Cooke isn’t lacking money or reputation. The motive doesn’t add up."

"I know why!" Ellie suddenly rushed forward from the crowd. Her makeup was smeared by tears, revealing her pale face underneath. She dropped to her knees with a thud, her voice trembling as she said, "Dr. Cooke… forced me to sleep with him…"

The words exploded through the crowd like a bomb.

"He said if I didn’t, he wouldn’t treat my dad…" Her voice shook violently. "When I refused, he… he…"

The hallway erupted into furious shouts.

"Animal!"

"Scumbag doctor!"

"He deserves the death penalty!"

"Shooting him would be too lenient!"

A plastic water bottle flew in, striking my forehead. Cold liquid mixed with blood streamed into my eyes, but I couldn’t feel the pain anymore.

Detective Taylor’s expression turned grim. "Miss Wilson, such accusations require evidence."

"Evidence?" Ellie let out a bitter laugh. Suddenly, she yanked open her collar, exposing a bruise along her collarbone. "This is what he left when he forced himself on me the night before last!"