I sat on a couch on the patio of a villa, where the dark witch's driver dumped me.
The place I called home sat in the middle of a serene green landscape with a small fountain ringed with lavender bushes. It wasn't big, but the structure clearly screamed money.
But looking at it now... even though the air feels familiar, the place was eerily quiet and empty.
The reality was so different from the warm image I had imagined that, I wanted to crawl into a hole and scream.
Still somehow, I managed to drag myself into this haunted house before faceplanting first.
When I came to, I was on a bed, and a small guy was quietly arranging flowers in a vase beside me.
Honestly, he scared the crap out of me.
Sam was the housekeeper of this place. He didn't speak much and kept his distance, which made things easier for me. No need to be the Actress-Rysa here.
After being bedridden for two days, I finally hauled myself down to the patio.
Today's the day my "friend" is supposed to show up.
Drake most probably knew nobody's gonna show up—that's why he didn't put up much of a fight.
I stared down the gate as frustration and tension built up inside me, setting up a bonfire inside my chest.
If nobody shows up today, I'll have to move to Drake's place. And there's no way I'd go there without a fight.
"Miss, there's a call for you."
Sam stood behind me, holding out a smartphone.
My hand trembled as I took the phone, dreading the worst.
"H—Hello?"
Silence. Then a smooth, deep voice answered,
"You forgot to give me the gate key, Sunshine. I've been going back and forth with your butler for the past ten minutes. Tell him to ease the stick up his ass and open the gates,"
My grip tightened around the phone. My heart was speeding up inside my ribcage.
"Wha—what ar-"
"Was it not today?" chirped a girly voice, rushing over him. "You said we could come and stay with you from today onwards, since his place is getting trashed. Don't tell me you forgot... like always," she chided.
Who are these people? Was there really someone supposed to come and stay with me?
My mind whispered that anyone was better than Drake, but my heart thumped hard, and my brain was in full-on war with itself.
Uncertainty's basically my middle name now, so whatever.
"Ah, um... yeah, sorry, I forgot. I'll send Sam to get you guys." I replied, handing the phone back to Sam.
Tick—tock—tick—tock—tick...
As seconds dragged on, anticipation and dread warred in me.
I tried to look presentable in my flimsy white dress—the only thing I could put on by myself.
I was a fool to think that seeing myself would jog my memory.
The stranger looking back at me in the closet mirror was bone-white thin. Piercing red eyes and a sharp nose in a gaunt face with long black hair. She looked like a scrawny teenager who was starved for weeks.
The bandage around my head and my leg plaster looked worn out and dirty.
I fixed up as much as I could before my next puzzle arrived.
The patio door opened, and the first thing I saw was wide shoulders framing a broad chest. I looked up to see the owner and—
A low whistle escaped me.
If someone had shown me a picture of the person standing in front of me—black high-neck with loose beige pants, the whole effortlessly gorgeous kit—and asked me to bet he was real, I'd have gone broke. Because there is no way he was real.
Long, thick hair fell in loose waves, one side of it slipping across his face, shadowing a sharp, thick eyebrow.
His jawline, covered with a short, scruffy stubble, was carved to destroy my sanity.
Our eyes locked, and my brain just went:
fdwfhskjdfhksdjfhksdfhlasdfkdsdfdksfjsfdsfdsf...
Beautiful golden eyes searched mine, refusing to let go. It felt like he was hypnotizing me to spill all my secrets.
But the joke's on him, because he was seeking an empty treasure box.
Then a tiny girl popped her head through the door. When she saw me, something flickered across her face too fast for me to catch. A second later, her face split into a wide smile. It was like a flower blooming right before me.
Arms wide, she launched herself at me, crash-landing on my lap, making my ribs protest in pain. Her chubby fingers grabbed me with a death-grip.
She looked just like him, except her hair was chestnut to his jet-black.
I couldn't help but think, was she his daughter?
She had to be. The similarity was uncanny.
My chest sank a little.
I looked a the Greek god standing before me with pleading eyes, because I had most certainly reached my pain threshold.
His eyes glinted with mirth like he was having a private joke.
"That's enough, Lora. Your mom has not fully recovered yet," he said in a velvety voice. "Keep your hands to yourself for now."
My heart stopped.
Hic—hic—hic—
Mom...?
MOM?!