The images of persons of interest were pinned on the medium size whiteboard. Each of the pictures was surrounded by messy writings and some crisscrossed arrows. A figure of the man was standing in front of the whiteboard, seriously looking while tapping the marker on his palm.

'All of them are the possible suspects. They are all suspicious for various reasons', this was what he remembered Harry told him before.

"Suspicious, huh," he sneered. "I know... One of them is building a facade."

He clenched his fist, squeezing the marker he was holding.

"But... Who among them?" He clasped onto the marker tightly. "WHO!"

He punched the whiteboard mightily which caused a small crack on the hit spot. His gaze darkened as he caressed each of the photos. He was seeking justice and helping to find who was responsible for the death of the girl he treasured the most. But, it seemed like they were dealing with a murderer who was good at hiding. He looked at his phone as it rang. He answered it with a deep voice without looking who was the caller. "Yes?"

[I know you shouldn't be the first one to know about this but, I'm more excited to tell you this good news than her family.]

The voice of the man on the other line told him. Just by hearing his tone of speaking, he knew right away it was Harry.

"Good news?" His brows furrowed by what he said. Good news? What kind of good news it was to make him excited to tell?

"I'm listening."

[That suspicious visitor, I finally discovered her identity.]

He raised his gaze to the pictures on the board while gripping his cellphone.

"Who was it?"

[It's....]

= = = =

"So... What are the findings, Doctor?" Tristan heard his twin sister —Trish Fuentavilla—asked.

He was standing outside her room and was just listening to their conversations in front of the door.

Six years had passed since his sister left home for her career and became the top model of their family's company, Fuenta Glamouroza, one of the greatest modeling agencies in the world. She was a successful model that was incomparable, reigning, and immensely adjured. A goddess indeed.

"You have tendonitis on your right knee." The doctor replied to Trish's question.

"She needs to rest the affected part and undergo therapy and medication. I advise avoiding any activities for her faster recovery." The doctor added.

"How long would it take?" her mother asked, worried.

"Tendonitis usually takes weeks to months to overcome. In her case, it will take months and will be even longer if she continues to stress it. Also, it may lead to many serious implications." The doctor explained.

"Oh, dear. We're doomed!" They all looked at the girl standing beside Trish's bed—Tanya Rubin—as she exclaimed.

"What about her duties? Appointments? If miss Trish will rest, we'll lose income and the endorsements. Her presence is crucial to the company!" Tanya added.

The room became silent for a moment. Trish looked at everyone's troubled and thinking face.

"Come on! Is my absence that depressing?" Trish broke the perturbing silence.

"Don't worry. I thought about this while you were still having your examination. But, I did not expect we need to do this." Sharrie Fuentavilla—Trish and Tristan's mother—remarked.

"Anyway, Tristan! How long are you planning to stay there? Are you not coming in? I can sense your presence."

Tristan took a deep and long sigh as he heard his mother call out his name. He was reluctant to step foot in. He was still battling himself whether he was glad, excited, or aversed at his sister's arrival. What should he say? How should he act? He didn't know, he wasn't sure.

Tristan took another sigh, then twisted the knob and slowly opened the door.

Tristan entered the room with a strong charisma, causing astonishment to everyone in the room. No one could utter a word. They were completely lost and drawn to him.

He has this black—waist-length—shiny wavy hair swaying, synchronizing his walk. His pair of aqua-colored irides flickered behind the rimless frame of the eyeglasses that he wore, which also complimented his nicely structured nose. The red, turtle-neck, long-sleeve fitted top—paired with black skinny jeans, revealed his perfect slim physique. Tristan undeniably shone so brightly in their eyes, Well, even brighter, as the florescent light emphasized his fair complexion.

Tristan coldly stared at his sister as he walked toward their mother. 'She got prettier than before', he thought.

"Woah. I didn't know miss Trish has a twin sister." Tristan heard Tanya whisper to Whifler, who was standing at the corner of the room. They were just distanced a little from where he was standing.

"He's her twin brother," Whifler whispered back to Tanya. Her eyes widened and her mouth hung at what she just heard.

"He's a boy?!" Tanya looked again at Tristan, closely examining his whole appearance.

"Are you kidding me?" she whispered unbelievably.

"Sh-She really looks like her." The doctor stammered in amazement while staring at Tristan.

"He's my son, her twin brother," Sharrie said which caused the doctor to flinch, and just like Tanya did, he once again looked at Tristan and stared at him in more amazement.

"Oh, really. My apology. He looks so feminine to me," the doctor said in amusement.

"That's why I brought him here. I would like him to stand as Trish in public. And, looking at your reactions, guess I wasn't wrong for coming up with this idea." Sharrie formed a victorious smile on her lips.

"In the meantime, Tristan will take over all the duties and obligations that Trish has. With this, even she's taking her rest, the company and other important matters to deal with will not be affected," Sharrie confidently said.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Fuentavilla, but I humbly opposed that," Whifler objected.

Sharrie's forehead wrinkled. "For what reason?"

"Trish is popular. It's risky to make him pretend in public. Even though they are perfectly identical, we never know the other differences that the public will notice," Whifler explained which made Sharrie simper after.

"Do you think I'm not aware of that?" Sharrie crossed her arms, self-assured.

"I've been in this industry for quite a long time, Manager Whifler. I absolutely know what to do and what NOT to do, whether it will work or not. So, in this kind of quandary.. We have to take risks."

"Pardon me, Mrs. Fuentavilla. I'm still against it. We're at a great disadvantage when the truth is disclosed. I don't want to gamble."

Sharrie paused for a moment. "Alright. I understand your concern. But, do you have any solution in mind regarding this matter aside from this, Manager Whifler?"

Whifler was shut and caught off guard at what Sharrie Fuentavilla asked him. Judging his reaction, Sharrie knew he was clueless.

"As I thought." Sharrie threw a cunning smile to Whifler. "I guess, my idea is the better option. Mhm?"

Sharrie sanguinely looked at everyone as she emphasized the word 'better' in her sentence since she really believed in her scheme.

As a proud mother of a child who had a prominent career, she would never let any hindrance to its flourishing. She put a lot of effort and hard work just to put her daughter up there, hence she would protect it at all costs. She won't let her step down from the peak. Not now, not ever.

Everyone was silent, including Whifler. None of them indeed had a bright solution. Sharrie slightly nodded, claiming the success of her proposal.

"Anyway, manager Whifler. I will leave all the preparation for Tristan to you. Since you took good care of my daughter, I have a huge expectation of you," Sharrie added while looking straight at Whifler.

Whifler just agreed, then bowed his head in respect. "Of course, Mrs. Fuentavilla. I won't disappoint you."

"Well, seems everything is settled... Then I will leave now. Ah! Doctor, can I talk to you outside, please?" Mrs. Fuentavilla said.

"Of course. Excuse me also," the doctor told everyone, before following Mrs. Fuentavilla.

As they both left the room, silence wrapped the four corners. The tension was getting worse, and awkwardness filled the room.

Trish worriedly stared at her brother, while he was just coldly staring at nowhere. No one tried to speak. No one actually wanted to. It gave an uncomfortable atmosphere to Whifler and Tanya.

"Ah, shall we start the discussion now?" Whifler asked, breaking the silence.

"Sure," Tristan seriously responded.

"You don't really have to do this," Trish said which made Tristan look at her. Still, that cold gaze of his, hurted her.

"I'm not doing this for you," Tristan replied.

Everyone could sense the hatred in his voice. His words were coated with rivalry.

"Tristan," Trish painfully mumbled.

Tanya was discomfited by the situation they were in. She gazed at Whifler and poked him, signaling him to make a move or do something about it. Whifler just sighed and started to sort his words in mind.

"Uhm. I'm sorry to interfere, but we need to settle things now," Whifler started, looking at Trish and Tristan.

"I'm all ears," Tristan said while looking directly at Whifler. He flinched at Tristan's confidence and strong aura despite his blank expression. Whifler became slightly motivated and his hope started to rise.

"Well, to start with, I am Raj Whifler the manager of your sister, and beside me is Tanya Rubin, her Personal Assistant. Since you will be the temporary Trish Fuentavilla, you will spend almost all of your time with us. So I hope you will feel comfortable and be at ease." Whifler said, but Tristan didn't respond. He was just staring at Whifler which made Whifler confused whether his words were getting through him or not.

"Are you listening?"

"Yes," Tristan directly replied to Whifler's question.

Whifler nodded in response then he took the folder that Tanya was holding and walked closer to Tristan, who was sitting on a single couch.

"Maybe, we'll start with your attitude first," Whifler said. Tristan shouldn't act this way when it was time for him to out as Trish.

Tristan's expression didn't change but they were both intensely stared at each other's eyes. The tension between them arose, and the challenging feeling resonated with their system. Whifler knew there was something more within Tristan and that coldness was just hiding it.

Tanya bit her lower lip as she felt the overwhelming tension in the room. 'I hope everything is gonna be fine', she thought.