After Clarisse and "Joseph" moved out of the palace, all their mail was forwarded to their new mansion. The real Joseph had been writing to Clarisse every week since he was locked up and every week he would get no reply. "Joseph" always checked the mail before his wife could get to it because he knew about the letters and always took them out before she had a chance to read any of them. He read them himself, however and decided that this week's letter could not go un-answered;
'16th of June 2005.
I heard through the grapevine that you married your head of security. I don't know who he is, but he sure is lucky to have you. Something's been plaguing my mind though - why him and not me? Is he better looking? Does he have a better package? If you had come down here and told the cops that I didn't kill those people or rob the bank or commit any of the other crimes I was supposed to have committed, you and I probably would have married instead and been much happier.
I'm just writing to let you know that this will be the last time you will ever hear from me. Every time you don't reply to my letters, you break my heart again. Well I'm sick of it! I've been debating hanging myself in my cell, but I won't do it if you come and see me or write or something. I'm planning to do it on the 1st of July. Am I important to you? This test will tell me once and for all if you still have any feelings left for me.
Love Joseph.'
"Joseph" knew that he had to tell her about the switch. He had doubts about telling his new wife that he wasn't who she thought he was. He'd managed to keep it a secret from her this long and thought that it was time to set things straight, only he wasn't quite sure what her reaction would be. She might get angry, she might leave him. God how he didn't want to lose her now. But perhaps she would be fine with it if he told her the truth, after all it was he that she had been with for the past 25 years, maybe she would go easy on him. He found it strange that she never noticed the swap, or maybe she did. Maybe she found this Joseph more loveable and understanding, or maybe she had just been waiting for him to tell her himself, but then why did she marry him?
Guilt swept over his body as he walked up to the bedroom door, 'This will be the day I tell her' he thought.
Who was he kidding? Every day was the day he was going to tell her, he had just never found the right moment. It's hard to just come out and tell a person, a person you're in love with, that you are an impostor not worthy of their love. Once again, he decided that it wasn't the right moment to tell her and he backed away from the door. If he had a Genovian dollar for every time he'd been in that situation, he would have been able to retire a long time ago.
Hours later he found himself lying naked in bed with the woman he'd fondly come to know as Clarisse. Like every other night, he felt guilty, guilty because he was manipulating her, guilty because their whole life together had been a lie, guilty because he'd landed an innocent man in prison. He often thought about that man, he'd gotten life in prison on account of the fact that the man they thought he was had committed three murders of innocent people. That was another thing he felt guilty about, those people. They probably had loving families who were expecting them to return home with the grocery shopping or the newspaper.
Draining the thoughts from his mind, he looked at the sleeping beauty in his arms, he'd always thought how lucky he was to have her. Never in a million years did he expect to find someone like her to spend his life with. She was the reason he never left the palace after 'the incident,' as he calls the time she accidentally saved him from the police.
His eyes shifted to the ring on his finger, it wasn't his ring, it was the man in the cell's ring. It belonged to him, she belonged to him.
He'd been over these thoughts so many times, but it was only recently that he'd been starting to lose his mind. He had to tell her, he just had to, the man would die if he didn't. But not now, tomorrow morning, when she would be refreshed and ready.
NO!
Now was as good a time as any, if he left it until tomorrow, he'd probably decide not to tell her at all. Yes, now was the time.
Very gently he shook her awake, "Darling?"
Fear shot through him as she opened her eyes, would this be the last time he'd see her up close?
"Why are you waking me up at this time of night?"
"Clarisse, I have to tell you something, something I've been keeping to myself for a long, long time."
"Can't you tell me tomorrow morning?"
"No, I've been putting it off for too long, I have to tell you now."
"Make it quick."
He sat up and stared at her, obviously she wasn't going to pay attention while she was still lying down with her eyes closed.
"Could you please at least look at me while I speak?"
An annoyed sigh escaped her mouth as she sat up and pulled the blanket over her breasts, "Happy?"
"Yeah. Darling, what I'm about to tell you may have a huge impact on how you see me. I want you to listen to everything I have to say and then you can speak."
Tiredly she nodded her head and yawned.
"Twenty-five years ago, you went in to town with a man called Joseph Mintaro."
She pointed at him and raised an eyebrow, he shook his head, "At the same time, a man called Steve Lyell was holding up the National Genovian Bank. After he'd put the money in a bag, he ran out of the bank and bumped into you."
"I don't remember any-"
"Please, my dear, allow me to finish. After he bumped into you, you pulled him into the car and drove off."
"No I-"
"Clarisse! Seconds later, Joseph was arrested and thrown into prison for crimes he didn't commit."
"Lovely story, darling, is that all you wanted to tell me?"
She lay back down in the bed and closed her eyes.
"Darling, what I'm trying to tell you is that I am Steve. I held up that bank, I got your beloved Joseph arrested and I lied to you for twenty-five years pretending to be him!"
Her head shot up, "Well I don't believe you."
"It's the truth! I don't know how it's possible, but we're identical strangers."
"As I said, lovely story, goodnight."
"It's not a story!"
"If you are this 'Steve' person, then where's your proof?"
"You want proof? I'll give you proof, wait here."
He ran down to the basement and pulled up the strip of carpet. Underneath it was a locked door, which he opened with a key and climbed into the room below. It was like a second basement in his eyes, a sanctuary. Clarisse didn't know about it. He never let her down there, it's where he kept his chest of memories. There was enough evidence in that chest to have him sentenced to death - weapons, loot, plans, but most importantly the letters. The ones Joseph had written to her from his cell, the ones that never reached her and were instead, taken out of the postbag and locked away, never to be read again until now.
Pondering if he really thought he should show her, he read through one of them;
'21st of April 1983.
Cupcake, I know you must still be angry with me, which explains why you haven't yet written back, but you know in your heart that I didn't do it. Any of it! You were with me at the time the first murder took place, remember? Won't you please come and be my alibi? You don't even have to tell them what we were doing at the time. Anything you say could get me out of here, you know it! I don't even know where they got the supposed evidence that I did any of it.
Oh well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.
May my love be with you,
Joseph.'
He then randomly picked up another;
'2nd of August 1986.
I still think about you every day, do you think about me? I wonder what you must be thinking while you read these letters, I'd like you to at least reply to one so I know you still care about me like I care about you.
I'm still waiting for your replies to my first fifty or so letters, I know you're getting them because I've been writing the address very neatly. I wish you would come in and see me, I miss you so much.
I love you, Cupcake.
Bye.'
And another;
'19th of May 1990.
I want out of here! I can handle the fighting, the rape and the torture, but you not caring about me is worse than all three put together! All I ever wanted was a letter, a sign that you still cared about me! Why won't you grant me that? We used to be so close, but now look where we are. Whenever I see your face on the television I cry and remember the time we declared our love for each other. I guess that's never going to happen again. I honestly don't know why you haven't made contact with me after all we've been through together, why not write and tell me why? Is it punishment for something? Like the time I ran over your daffodils with the car? That was an accident and I apologised for that on multiple occasions. Uh oh, I think I'm in trouble with the warden again, so I'll say goodbye here.'
"Joseph" picked up the two hundred odd letters that the real Joseph had written to her over the years and carefully carried them upstairs. He dumped them on the bed and noticed she was asleep again. His eyes wandered over to her face, she was peaceful, she was calm, she would be angry at him if he woke her up again now. Discarding the letters on the floor, he climbed in beside her and held her from behind. After reading those letters she would probably never let him hold her again, he had to enjoy it while he could. Of course, he didn't have to show her the letters, but that would mean death for the lonely man in the cell who had done nothing wrong. He'd already put that man through enough and he didn't want to be the cause of his death.