Ashes of Longing

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.