Years after the disappearance of the young master, the Alexandro family had never seen peace again. Conflict erupted as everyone fought for the position of heir to the family and control over the cartel.
In a small village, a young man walked through the streets. Eyes, especially those of the young women, followed him with admiration. But he paid no attention, lost in his own thoughts. As dusk settled, he returned home, his stroll once again yielding no answers.
"Good evening, Grandma," Mitchell greeted, his voice tired. The old woman who had saved his life years ago looked up from her work.
"And where have you been?" Grandma Eve asked, concern filling her voice.
Mitchell had no energy for a response to her usual questioning.
"I went to the place where you found me," he replied casually. Without waiting for her to say anything more, he walked off toward his room.
As he passed by, he bumped into Clara, Grandma Eve's granddaughter.
"Are you blind, or just trying to get my attention, you four-eyed freak?" Mitchell snapped, his annoyance apparent.
Clara shot back without missing a beat.
"Why are you always so grumpy? So you know, I'm not the one who made you lose your memory, so get that through your thick skull."
From a distance, Grandma Eve watched their exchange, not interrupting. She turned quietly and returned to her room, brewing a cup of herbal tea. Her mind drifted back to the day she found Mitchell.
---
Flashback
Two years earlier, a young, handsome man sprinted through the dense forest. His breath hitched as he heard footsteps pounding behind him.
"Kill him once you lay eyes on him!" the leader of a group of mercenaries shouted.
Mitchell felt a sharp pain in his leg. He couldn't run anymore.
"Gotcha!" a filthy, belligerent man grinned, his belly spilling over his waistband.
"Let me go, and I'll pay double what your boss offered!" Mitchell pleaded.
"We don't want your money, you arrogant bastard. We want your life. Our boss wants you dead." The man stepped closer, raising his gun.
Mitchell's thoughts raced. Out of desperation, he threw sand into their faces, then made a dash for it, but his escape plan failed. He fell into a shallow valley and hit his head hard.
The goons stood over him, satisfied that their work was done. They were sure he was dead.
"Boss, we've killed the young master as you asked," the leader said, his voice cold.
At the other end of the phone, Aunt Gomez smiled, malicious glee in her eyes as she stared at a photo of Mitchell.
"Perfect," she whispered.
---
Later that evening
Grandma Eve and Clara, having just plucked herbs, were startled by a groaning sound.
"Grandma, someone's in pain!" Clara gasped.
Eve nodded. "Let's check it out."
They followed the noise and found Mitchell, drenched in blood, on the edge of the valley. His life hung by a thread.
Clara quickly wheeled him back to their house, disregarding the curious stares of neighbors. Grandma began to work her magic with herbs, healing Mitchell back to life.
Four days later, Mitchell awoke.
"Grandma, he's awake!" Clara called out.
"Not so loud, girl," Grandma muttered, calming the young man.
Mitchell winced, feeling the sharp pains throughout his body. His blurry mind couldn't piece together the fragments of his life.
"What happened?" he croaked, his voice hoarse.
"Don't worry, dear. You're safe now. Just need some rest," Grandma reassured, offering him more herbal remedies.
Mitchell's eyes flickered. He was comforted, yet the pain gnawed at him. Slowly, as the painkiller worked its magic, fragments of memory broke through.
---
Back to Present
Clara rushed into Mitchell's room, alarmed.
"Grandma, Grandma! He's in pain again," she yelled in distress.
Grandma hurriedly made her way to the room. The sight of Mitchell huddled in agony tugged at her heart.
Mitchell struggled, refusing the healing herbs. The tension built, until Clara finally hugged him impulsively from behind, her body a refuge from the pain. After a long, tense pause, Mitchell slowly grasped her hands, forcing her to stay close.
Grandma quietly retreated, witnessing the moment but saying nothing.
---
Mitchell eventually turned to face Clara, his expression softened.
"You have the most beautiful eyes," he murmured.
Clara flushed. "Don't flatter me, Mitchell. I'm not falling for it".
Mitchell gave a faint smile. Good. "You're far too irritating anyway".
Clara huffed and left, though her heart pounded fiercely.