The fake Adam lifted his brow and attempted a gentlemanly smile. "Since we share the same name, I don't mind helping you out if you're really that broke, but you shouldn't lie."

My fists tightened. I took a few deep breaths, forcing down the anger boiling in my chest before turning to Erica. "Are you sure he's Adam?"

Erica huffed impatiently. "Of course. Now get lost. I've never seen anyone so shameless."

With that, she slammed the door shut.

I stared coldly at the door, pulled out my phone, and opened a forum I often visited.

I found an old thread of mine that had once gone viral and left a simple message.

"I'm back."

The moment it was posted, replies flooded in like a tidal wave.

"Finally! Where have you been for the past half year? You promised to come and challenge us in painting!"

"Seriously! We've waited for years to see you in person. We have to meet you!"

I smirked and typed out my address.

"I'll be home tomorrow. Bring your materials."

I let out a cold laugh, curious to see just how bold that impostor really was.

…

The next morning, a crowd gathered outside the villa, carrying their art supplies as excitement and anticipation buzzed through the air.

The fake Adam opened the door and froze at the sight of so many people.

Someone in the crowd asked, "Excuse me. Is Adam here? We're here to see him."

"I'm Adam," he said.

Someone in the group shouted excitedly, "Wow, we're finally meeting Maestro Adam in person! Come on, we can't wait to watch you paint!"

"Yeah, Maestro Adam, don't let us come all this way for nothing!"

I had changed into a completely different outfit, covering myself well enough to blend into the crowd.

Voices came from all sides.

"Maestro Adam, we're counting on you to show us your skills today!"

The fake Adam's expression shifted instantly. His face drained of color, and his lips trembled with panic.

Still, he forced a shaky smile. "When did I ask you all to come?"

Someone immediately pulled out their phone, opened the forum thread, and lifted the screen. "Didn't you post this?"

They pointed to the message from the verified account.

"This is from Maestro Adam's account. You're not denying it, are you?"

A flicker of fear crossed the fake Adam's face. He hurried to cover it up. "Right, right, that was me. Sorry. I must've forgotten."

He gave an awkward laugh, but his eyes darted nervously as he stepped aside to let everyone in.

With a cold smile, I followed the group into the villa.

It was my first time stepping into my own villa. I glanced around. The decor was lavish to the point of being garish, dripping in gold and excessive embellishment. It was tacky, vulgar, and completely devoid of artistic taste.

I made a quiet promise to myself. I was going to reveal the truth about this impostor.

The fake Adam forced a stiff smile. "I actually have some things to take care of today. Maybe another time…" he stammered.

Someone in the crowd hurriedly cut him off, "We came all this way just to see you today. Since we're already here, why don't you paint something for us?"

I joined in as well, saying, "Yeah, anything will do. Maestro Adam was famous for his speed sketches. We've all been waiting to see it again."

The moment I finished speaking, the fake Adam's expression changed instantly. Cold sweat formed on his forehead.

He let out a few nervous laughs and forced out, "Alright, I'll go pour some water for everyone."

He turned and walked toward the kitchen.

I wanted to stop him, but the people around me smiled and nodded. "Sure, thank you!"

I let out a cold snort, thinking to myself, "Not so fast. You're not going anywhere that easily."

Before long, a crashing sound came from the kitchen, as if glass had shattered, followed by a startled cry from the fake Adam.

He emerged, clutching his finger, wearing an apologetic expression. "Sorry. I don't think I can paint today."

I didn't wait for him to recover. I stepped forward and grabbed his hand. Blood seeped from a cut that ran along his finger.

I raised an eyebrow. "How convenient. You injured your finger at exactly this time. Don't tell me this is just an excuse to avoid everyone."

The crowd exchanged confused glances.

Someone muttered under their breath, "Yeah, why now of all times?"

At that moment, Erica hurried down from upstairs.

Her face was dark with worry. She shoved me aside and leaned toward the fake Adam. "Adam, are you okay? Where are you hurt?"

He lowered his head and forced a pained expression. "Erica, it's fine. It really was an accident. It's not his fault…"

I smirked. "Erica, isn't this suspicious? Adam is a renowned artistic genius, and sketching is his specialty. You've been with him for so long. Haven't you ever seen him at work?"

Erica frowned, and she glared at me with suppressed fury.

"That's enough! Stop rubbing salt in Adam's wound. He just got here and already had an accident. His finger is badly injured, and he won't be able to paint anymore."

The fake Adam kept his head lowered, but a glimmer of satisfaction flashed in his eyes. He played the pitiful act. "I'm really sorry I can't paint for everyone, but you can't say I was lying…"

I let out a derisive laugh. "What a convenient coincidence! Don't tell me your finger is injured again today, just like before. Are your fingers so fragile that they break every time someone questions you?"

Suspicion etched itself on the crowd's faces, and they whispered among themselves.

The fake Adam's expression shifted. He put on a hurt look and said, "How can you say that? That car accident was the most painful experience of my life, and you just have to pick at it. Do you have a grudge against me or something?"

Erica's face darkened like a storm. She glared at me. "Are you done yet? Adam is the victim here. Stop making a scene!"

She lifted the fake Adam's hand and pointed to the scar. "This is proof. The hospital report is right here if you want to see it yourself."

The crowd gasped. "Oh, so that's what really happened. I never would have guessed."

The fake Adam raised his head and let out a sigh. Wearing an expression of guilt, he said, "Anyway, I'm still sorry for disappointing everyone…"

I let out a cold snort. "Is that so? You really went to great lengths just to deceive people…"

Erica's face instantly flushed red with anger. She stormed forward and shouted, "What do you mean by that? Are you deliberately picking on Adam?"

Suddenly, Erica reached out and yanked my hat off. "I knew it was you! You caused trouble here yesterday, and now you're back? Are you deliberately looking for a fight?"

Her eyes blazed with anger as she swung her hand at me.

I tensed and instinctively raised my own hand to block her slap.

I knew I couldn't back down. "I'm the real Adam Richmond. If you don't believe me, call my dad and ask him yourself," I said coldly.

Erica didn't hesitate. "Go ahead, then. Call him."

I clenched my teeth and grabbed my phone to call Dad, but the call wouldn't go through. The screen reading "Dialing…" made my heart pound with panic.

Seeing this, Erica sneered. "Can't get through? Mr. Richmond, looks like your little act is falling apart."

I took a deep breath, refusing to give up. "You can call your dad too. He knows the truth," I said.

Erica's expression wavered for a moment before it hardened, and she let out a cold, mocking laugh. "Still spinning stories? Adam has always been by my side. There's no way you're telling the truth!"

"Fine. If you don't believe me, I'll show you the truth," I said, staring at the fake Adam. "There's an ancient willow in the backyard of Richmond Manor. Do you even know where it stands?"

I watched his face closely, looking for any sign of hesitation or a crack in his composure.

The fake Adam remained eerily composed. He smiled lightly and said, "There's no willow at Richmond Manor, only peach trees."

My heart sank. How could he possibly know that?

Erica's anger flared again. She gritted her teeth and glared at me. "I knew it! This was all set up! You came here just to stir up trouble for Adam!"

People nearby stepped forward, trying to intervene. The fake Adam put on a fake air of concern. "Erica, calm down. It's just a misunderstanding. Maybe he's feeling insecure."

That only made Erica angrier.

She lunged at me and sneered. "You're jealous of Adam. That's why you keep getting in his way. Since you're so obsessed with his fingers, I'll make sure yours suffer just like he did."

Then, she turned to the fake Adam. "Adam, hold his hand down!"

The fake Adam hesitated for a moment, then a cruel smile spread across his face. He ran over and pressed my hand firmly.

Panic surged through me. Erica was ruthless. She grabbed a glass vase off the table, and a cruel light gleamed in her eyes as she lifted it toward my hand.

I struggled desperately, trying to free my hand from the fake Adam's grip. My heart sank. I was a painter, and my hands were everything to me.

The onlookers gasped and tried to intervene, but the fake Adam's strength was overwhelming. He held my hand fast, ignoring their protests.

He wore a faint, self‑satisfied smirk, and a triumphant shine flickered in his eyes, as though he wanted me to suffer.

Just as panic and regret threatened to overwhelm me, a cold, authoritative voice cut through the chaos from the doorway.

"What's going on here? Why is it so noisy?"