Chapter 85
SEBASTIAN
Six months later…
“You’re still at it?”
I lifted my head when I heard Atlas‘ voice coming from the door. My eyes were so fixated on my laptop that I didn’t notice him coming in. I was too busy reading the latest report regarding Blaire’s whereabouts.
Almost everyone has given up on her, but not me. I will never stop looking for her. As long as there’s no definite proof that she’s dead, I will do everything to find her.
I looked at Atlas with dead eyes before I turned my eyes back towards the screen of my laptop.
“You’re not going to stop, are you?” he asked once again when I deliberately ignored him.
“You know I won’t. Why bother asking?” I answered.
“You’ve been spending thousands and thousands of dollars, and you only get the same information over and over again. Have you even considered the fact that if Blaire were alive, she would have come back already?” Atlas continued.
I lifted my eyes and glared at him with a threatening look. “What are you mumbling about? Your company is the one that’s earning a lot of money from this. I’ve been paying you generously to search for Blaire, not to give me unsolicited advice.”
He chuckled. “I was about to build a new office in Asia because of the money you paid me.”
“And yet you gave me nothing,” I remarked sarcastically.
“Give me some slacks, okay?” he complained.
I shot him a death glare before refocusing on my laptop screen. Minutes passed in tense silence until he cautiously approached my desk, dropping a folder of documents onto it.
Raising an eyebrow, I glanced up at him, my expression questioning. My gaze lingered on the folder for a
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moment, pondering its contents.
“You won’t know what’s inside until you take a look,” Atlas remarked, his tone suggesting he could read my thoughts.
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“I don’t have time for your games, Atlas,” I retorted, my hand trembling slightly as i reached for the folder. I tried to conceal my nervousness, but I knew Atlas was observant enough to notice,
My heart skipped a beat as I laid eyes on the documents and photographs nestled within the folder. There, staring back at me, was a woman who bore an uncanny resemblance to Blaire. The resemblance was so striking, it sent a jolt of recognition coursing through my veins.
“No, it can’t be,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. But as I studied the images more closely, I could no longer deny the truth. It was Blaire–or at least, someone who looked exactly like her. My mind raced with a flurry of emotions, ranging from disbelief to a glimmer of hope.
“You found her,” I murmured.
Atlas watched me closely, his expression unreadable. “I didn’t mean to run on your parade, but I want to tell you not to let your hopes up,” he said.
I tore my gaze away from the photographs, my mind spinning with possibilities.
“What do you mean?” I asked him confusingly.
“Based on that picture alone, without a doubt, that’s Blaire. But according to my investigation, there’s no one in that small town who bears that name.”
“She was probably under a different name.” I tried to make more sense out of it.
“Even if that’s true, what could be her reason for doing so? And more importantly, why isn’t she coming back?” Atlas said, adding more confusion in this situation.
“I don’t know what to think,” I admitted, my voice tinged with uncertainty. “But if there’s even a chance that it’s her, we have to investigate further.”
Atlas nodded in agreement, his eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation Merced. We’ll need to tread carefully, though. If Catherine catches wind of our investigation, it could put Blaire in even greater danger.”
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moment, pondering its contents.
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“You won’t know what’s inside until you take a look,” Atlas remarked, his tone suggesting he could read my thoughts.
“I don’t have time for your games, Atlas,” I retorted, my hand trembling slightly as I reached for the folder. I tried to conceal my nervousness, but I knew Atlas was observant enough to notice.
My heart skipped a beat as I laid eyes on the documents and photographs nestled within the folder. There, staring back at me, was a woman who bore an uncanny resemblance to Blaire. The resemblance was so striking, it sent a jolt of recognition coursing through my veins.
“No, it can’t be,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. But as I studied the images more closely, I could no longer deny the truth. It was Blaire–or at least, someone who looked exactly like her. My mind raced with a flurry of emotions, ranging from disbelief to a glimmer of hope.
“You found her,” I murmured.
Atlas watched me closely, his expression unreadable. “I didn’t mean to run on your parade, but I want to tell you not to let your hopes up,” he said.
I tore my gaze away from the photographs, my mind spinning with possibilities.
“What do you mean?” I asked him confusingly.
“Based on that picture alone, without a doubt, that’s Blaire. But according to my investigation, there’s no one in that small town who bears that name.”
“She was probably under a different name.” I tried to make more sense out of it.
“Even if that’s true, what could be her reason for doing so? And more importantly, why isn’t she coming back?” Atlas said, adding more confusion in this situation.
“I don’t know what to think,” I admitted, my voice tinged with uncertainty. “But if there’s even a chance that it’s her, we have to investigate further.”
Atlas nodded in agreement, his eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation. “Agreed. We’ll need to tread carefully, though. If Catherine catches wind of our investigation, it could put Blaire in even greater danger.”
“What could she do? She’s already in prison. And I have every intention of keeping her in there for as long as I
can.”
Atlas sighed, his expression troubled. “Catherine may be behind bars, but she still has connections, Sebastian. We can’t underestimate her reach or her influence. If she suspects that we’re onto something, she could pull strings from the inside to sabotage our efforts or, worse, retaliate against Blaire.”
His words sent a chill down my spine, a sobering reminder of the lengths Catherine would go to protect herself and exact revenge. “Then we’ll have to proceed with caution,” I replied, my voice resolute. “We can’t afford to let our guard down, not when Blaire’s safety hangs in the balance.”
“Okay, I’ll gather my men to help with the search.”
“Do that. But I’ll be going there now. I’ll meet you up there. I don’t think I’d be able to wait for another minute sitting here doing nothing.”
With a rush of urgency, I hurried to my car, clutching the heavy documents tightly. Questions swirled in my mind: How did Blaire end up in that small town? What happened after the explosion? Was she safe? What’s her reason for not coming back after such a long time?
The drive to the town felt like it took forever, each mile filled with worry and anticipation. When I arrived, it was al quiet place, with old shops and locals going about their day.
As I arrived in the town, I wasted no time and dove straight into my search. I questioned the locals, hoping to find any everyone here. It
trace of Blaire. However, to my dismay, it seemed like she was a complete stranger to was as if she had vanished without a trace, leaving no mark on the memories of the townsfolk. It was baffling and unsettling, like chasing a ghost through the empty streets.
It makes no sense. If it weren’t for the photos in my head, taken along these same streets, I’d probably think that
she’s not here.
I looked at the photo in my hand just to remind me that it was real.
Despite the lack of leads, I refused to give up hope. With determination fueling my every step, I continued my search, scouring every corner of the town in the hopes of uncovering a clue, no matter how small.
Just when I was about to give up, a young street vendor noticed the picture in my hand.
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“Oh, that’s Dylan,” he remarked. The street vendor’s words caught me off guard, igniting a spark of hope within
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- But at the same time, I frowned when I realized that he calls her a different name.
“Dylan? Are you sure?” I asked, my voice tinged with a mixture of excitement and skepticism.
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The vendor nodded eagerly. “Yeah, she’s a regular around here. Comes by every now and then to pick up supplies,” he explained, his words coming in a rush as if he couldn’t contain his excitement at being able to provide me with information.
“Can you lead me to her?” I asked immediately.
But hesitation spread all over his face. He looked at me with suspicious eyes before his lips broke into an
awkward smile.
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“Oh, maybe I was wrong. I mistaken her for someone I know,” he said, avoiding my eyes. I immediately knew he’d be hiding something.
My heart sank at the vendor’s sudden change in demeanor. It was clear that he was hiding something, and I couldn’t afford to let this opportunity slip away. “Please, I need to find her. It’s important,” I urged, my voice
tinged with desperation.
But the vendor remained evasive, his eyes darting nervously as he avoided my gaze. “I’m sorry, mister. I must’ve been mistaken,” he muttered, his words lacking conviction as he turned away, effectively ending the
conversation.
Frustration boiled within me as I watched him go, knowing that he held the key to finding Blaire but refusing to cooperate. I had to find another way–another lead to follow. With a determined grit, I set out once more, my resolve stronger than ever as I vowed to uncover the truth, no matter the obstacles in my path.
Chapter 86
Six months ago…
I slowly opened my eyes, and I was immediately welcomed by an unfamiliar ceiling. I winced in when I felt a throbbing pain in my head. I touched my head and noticed a bandage around my forehead.
I looked around the room that I was in. But nothing about it makes sense.
As I looked around the room, I couldn’t help but admire its fancy décor. The furniture was all elegant, and there were pretty lights shining from the chandeliers. It was all very posh, but it’s something that doesn’t resonate with me. I don’t feel any familiarity around this place.
But even with all the fancy stuff, I felt out of place. The room seemed too big, and the walls felt like they were closing in on me. It was like I’d walked into a whole different world.
I took a careful step forward, the sound of my footsteps echoing on the shiny floor. The room was so quiet, except for the sound of my own movements.
As I looked around more, I felt even more confused. The room seemed to keep changing, like it was playing tricks on me.
With each passing moment, I felt more uneasy. It was like I was lost in a maze with no way out. I opened the door, yet still, the place doesn’t make any sense to me at all. I tried to remember where I was, but the more I tried, the greater the confusion that engulfed my whole body.
As the searing pain shot through my head, I couldn’t help but let out a loud curse. “Damn it!”
“Hey, take it easy. Don’t move around too much,” a voice said from nearby.
I looked up to see a man I didn’t recognize. He seemed to be trying to help me, guiding me back toward the room I had come from.
Who was he? And why couldn’t I remember him? I racked my brain, trying to recall his name, but it was like trying to grasp at smoke. And then it hit me like a cold shower–I couldn’t remember who I was, either.
Panic welled up inside me as I struggled to make sense of what was happening. How could I not remember anything about myself? And why was I in this strange place with a man I didn’t know?
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“Sit down here; I’ll get your medicine,” he said, leading me to the edge of a vast bed with a reassuring smile.
“Uh, excuse me,” I stammered, feeling disoriented. He turned back to me, his expression expectant as he waited for me to speak. “Where am I? And I didn’t mean to be rude, but who are you?”
His features softened, and he approached me with a gentle smile, his eyes filled with warmth.
“We got into an accident while sailing. You were out for a few days,” he explained, his tone gentle but matter–of-
fact.
I tried to process his words, but my mind felt foggy, memories slipping through my grasp like sand through fingers. Frowning, I attempted to recall the events leading up to the accident, but all I could summon was a
sharp, throbbing pain pulsing through my head.
He handed me a small pill and a glass of water. “Here, take this. It’ll help with the pain,” he offered, concern
evident in his eyes as he watched me closely.
I nodded gratefully, swallowing the pill with a gulp of water. As I did, a wave of dizziness washed over me, leaving me feeling disoriented and off balance.
“Thank you,” I murmured, handing back the empty glass. “I’m sorry, but I still don’t remember much. Can you
tell me where we are?”
He nodded understandingly. “Don’t worry. It’s okay. The doctor says you might have experienced memory lapses due to a concussion. We’re at my family’s estate on the outskirts of town. It’s a quiet place, perfect for
recuperating.”
His words only served to deepen my confusion. How did I end up here? And who was this man standing before me, tending to my needs with such care and concern?
“Can you tell me your name?” I asked tentatively, hoping for some shred of familiarity to cling to amidst the chaos of my fragmented memories.
As Grant introduced himself as my husband, I couldn’t help but feel a wave of confusion wash over me. His words seemed to echo in the empty recesses of my mind, but they failed to stir any sense of recognition within me. His name, Grant, held no significance to me, leaving me feeling adrift in a sea of uncertainty.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, my voice tinged with frustration. “I don’t remember you.”
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Grant’s expression faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features before he quickly masked it with a forced smile. “It’s okay,” he said softly, though the strain in his voice was palpable. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s only natural that your memory would be a bit foggy.”
But what he said didn’t make me feel any better. If Grant really was my husband, why didn’t I feel close to him? Why didn’t being with him give me that warm feeling of being with someone I love?
As I thought about these things, I felt more and more alone. It was like I was stuck in a bad dream, with people around me who I didn’t really know.
Even though I was confused, one thing was certain: I couldn’t trust my own memories. They were like pieces of a broken mirror, showing me only parts of what happened and making it harder for me to understand what was real.
With a heavy heart, I turned to Grant, the man who claimed to be my husband, and forced a smile of my own. “Thank you for being here,” I said softly, though the words felt hollow and insincere. “I just hope that with time, my memories will return, and I can truly be the wife you deserve.”
Grant nodded, his expression a mix of concern and understanding. “I understand, my dear,” he replied, his voice gentle and reassuring. “We’ll get through this together. And no matter what happens, I’ll be by your side every step of the way.”
Despite his words of comfort, I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at the edges of my
consciousness. There was something about Grant’s presence that felt off, like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit into the picture of my life.
But for now, I pushed aside my doubts.
Through the course of the week, I discovered that my name was Dylan. Though I still don’t recognize the sound of my own name, I tried to be optimistic.
Days turned into weeks as I tried to piece together the fragments of my shattered memory. But the more I searched, the more elusive the truth seemed to become. Memories slipped through my fingers like grains of
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sand, leaving me grasping at shadows in the darkness.
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Night after night, I couldn’t sleep as strange dreams haunted my mind. In the darkness, a voice called out, sending shivers down my spine. It spoke a name I didn’t know, leaving me uneasy long after I woke up.
Lying in bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about the mysterious figure in my dreams. The voice echoed in my head, stirring up memories I couldn’t quite grasp.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember where I heard that voice before. It felt like it came from another
world, beyond my fractured memory.
Was it a memory from my past, or was it just my mind playing tricks on me? I couldn’t be sure, but I knew one thing: I needed to find out the truth. Until I did, I wouldn’t be able to find peace.
T
Grant was more than kind enough to stay in another room. Despite him introducing himself as my husband, he’s nothing but a stranger to me without my memory. Although I felt guilty, I don’t think it’s fair if we shared the same room while I don’t remember anything.
As the days stretched on, I began to feel a growing sense of frustration and despair. It was as if I were trapped in a maze with no way out, stumbling blindly through the corridors of my own mind in search of an exit that seemed to recede further with each passing moment.
Today, I decided to go outside and walk around the area, hoping it could juggle some of my memories.
But as I approached the door, I saw Grant talking to a woman I can hardly remember. They seemed comfortable together, but something about it made me uneasy.
The woman noticed me and looked surprised, like she recognized me. I couldn’t place her face or name, which left me feeling confused. Was she a friend or someone from my past?
I stayed by the door, watching them talk, feeling unsure about the situation. It felt like there was something hidden beneath the surface, waiting to be discovered.
Their conversation seemed to taper off quickly once they noticed me, as if they were trying to avoid being caught in the act. It left me with a sense of unease, like there was something they didn’t want me to know.
The woman hurriedly left, leaving me standing there with more questions than answers. I turned to Grant for an explanation. “Who was that?” I asked curiously.
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“Just a friend,” he replied tersely, his expression guarded. His response was cryptic and evasive.
Confusion knotted my stomach as I tried to make sense of his words. Something didn’t feel right about the situation, but before I could voice my concerns, Grant was already ushering me back inside.
“Pack your bag. We need to leave,” he instructed, his tone urgent.
The urgency in his voice only served to heighten my sense of unease. “What’s going on?” I pressed, desperation, creeping into my voice.
But Grant remained tight–lipped, his expression unreadable, as he prepared for our sudden departure.
“Grant, talk to me. What’s happening?” I insisted.
“Shut up, and pack your bag!”
TT
Grant’s sudden outburst caught me off guard, sending a jolt of fear coursing through me. His words were like a slap in the face, cutting through the air with an intensity that left me reeling.
I stood there, frozen in place, as the weight of his anger bore down on me. Never before had he raised his voice at me in such a manner, and I found myself at a loss for how to respond.
Trembling, I took a tentative step backward, my eyes wide with shock and confusion. “Grant, please,” I pleaded, my voice trembling with uncertainty. “I don’t understand. Why are you shouting?”
But Grant’s expression remained stony and impassive, his features hardened by a resolve that sent shivers down my spine. “There’s no time for questions,” he snapped, his voice clipped and cold. “Just do as I say and pack your bag. We need to leave now.”
His words lingered in the room, making everything feel heavy and dark. I couldn’t understand why he was so upset all of a sudden. And why did he want us to leave right away?
Feeling uneasy, I started packing my things as he commanded. But inside, my mind was racing with worry. Why was this happening? What had I missed? And what does that woman have to do with all of these?
With little time to spare, I hastily gathered a few essentials as Grant hurried me out of the house. His urgency was palpable as he practically dragged me towards a small boat docked just behind our temporary residence.
Without a moment’s hesitation, we embarked, the engine roaring to life as we set sail. The destination remained
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a mystery to me, adding to the sense of unease that had settled in the pit of my stomach.
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As we sailed along, I glanced towards the horizon and saw several boats heading towards the island we’d just left. It made me uneasy, wondering why they were coming and if it had anything to do with us leaving so suddenly.
I looked over at Grant, but he seemed lost in his own thoughts, his gaze fixed on the ocean ahead. Despite the questions swirling in my mind, I decided to remain silent.
As the island gradually faded from view, I tried to reassure myself that the approaching boats had nothing to do with us.
Chapter 87
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Present day…
I just went to the town proper yesterday to pick up a few supplies. It’s been months since the incident, yet my memories haven’t come back. I’m just glad that Grant has been patient with me throughout the time I don’t remember anything.
Despite him claiming to be my husband, he hasn’t tried anything with me. Though he sometimes makes advances, which I quickly reject, he doesn’t take them against me. I would eventually apologize for rejecting him, and he would tell me that he understood.
No matter how hard I try to be affectionate with Grant, hoping it might jog my memory, I still can’t connect with him emotionally. Despite his insistence that he’s my husband, he feels like a stranger to me.
Moving to this island just six months ago means we don’t have many photos together from here. But beyond his words, there’s no solid evidence supporting his claim. He has a lot of reasons whenever I ask for our pictures, as if he is trying to avoid it. But he was convincing. I have my doubts, but I can’t find any solid reasons to suspect
Grant.
I was engrossed in tending to the garden when I noticed Steve hurrying towards our house, his breath coming in short gasps as he approached. “Is everything all right, Steve? You seem out of breath,” I inquired, curiosity piqued by his urgency.
“Do you happen to know this guy?” he asked, still catching his breath while showing a photo from his phone.
Steve’s question caught me off guard, and I couldn’t suppress the sudden rush of unease that washed over me. I took the phone from him, studying the photo closely. The man in the picture was a stranger to me, yet there was something oddly familiar about him-a nagging sensation that tugged at the edges of my memory.
“I don’t recognize him,” I stammered, struggling to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling within me. I had no idea who this man was, but there’s something about him that feels familiar. It was as if I already knew him.
Steve regarded me with concern, his brow furrowing in thought. “Well, if you don’t know him, then I’m glad that I didn’t say anything,” he remarked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
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“What do you mean?” I asked curiously.
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“Well, he has been wondering around town, asking about you,” he answered.
“How did you know that he was looking for me?”
“He was holding a picture of you. Though the woman in the photo that he was holding has long blonde hair while yours is bob-cut brunette, the woman looks exactly like you,” he explained.
Steve’s words sent a shiver down my spine, the mention of a stranger holding a photo of me sending alarm bells ringing in my mind. Despite the discrepancies between the woman in the picture and myself, the resemblance was uncanny, leaving me with an uneasy feeling that refused to be ignored.
“Did he say anything else?” I pressed, my curiosity reaching a fever pitch as I sought answers to the myriad questions swirling in my mind.
Steve shook his head, his expression grave. “Not much. But Grant mentioned something about threats to your life, so I thought it best to come and warn you both,” he explained, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of Grant’s whereabouts.
But before he could go any further, I held up a hand to stop him. “Wait,” I interjected, a surge of determination coursing through me. If there were indeed threats looming over me, I needed to face them head-on, on my own terms. “Let me talk to him. He’s occupied at the moment. Thank you for telling me, Steve. I appreciate it.”
Steve nodded understandingly, his concern evident in his gaze. “No worries, Dylan. Just take care of yourself and Grant,” he replied before turning to leave.
As Steve’s figure faded into the distance, leaving me alone with my thoughts, a sense of urgency swept over me like a tidal wave. The man he had mentioned, the one holding a photo of me, seemed to hold the key to unlocking the secrets of my past. Every fiber of my being screamed for answers, urging me to seek out this mysterious stranger and demand the truth.
But as I grappled with the weight of Steve’s revelation, another unsettling thought gnawed at the edges of my consciousness. Why did I feel compelled to keep this information from Grant? Was it simply a desire to handle the situation on my own terms, or was there something more sinister lurking beneath the surface?
Despite the love and patience Grant had shown me since the accident, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there were hidden truths he had yet to reveal. His explanations always seemed to skirt around the edges of the truth, leaving me with more questions than answers.
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With a heavy heart, I realized that I couldn’t trust anyone but myself in this quest for answers. If I wanted to uncover the secrets of my past, I would have to do this treacherous path alone, trusting only in my own instincts to guide me.
As I turned to head back inside the house, a sudden movement caught my eye, and I spun around to find Grant standing behind me. His presence startled me, as I hadn’t heard him approach.
“What’s wrong? You look pale,” he observed, his brow furrowed with concern. I swallowed hard, scrambling for
an excuse.
“N-Nothing. It’s probably just the heat from the sun.” I stammered out, hoping my lie sounded convincing.
“Oh, okay,” he responded, though I could sense a hint of skepticism in his voice.
I breathed a silent sigh of relief when he didn’t press further.
“Was that Steve? What was he doing here?” Grant inquired, curiosity evident in his tone.
My heart skipped a beat as I scrambled to fabricate a plausible explanation. “He was just telling me that there’s a new shipment of supplies that arrived. He’s wondering if I want to check it out when I visit the town,” I improvised, trying to keep my voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach.
I held my breath as Grant scrutinized me with a suspicious gaze. Every fiber of my being screamed with the effort of appearing calm and composed, desperate to conceal the tangled web of lies that threatened to unravel at any moment. But despite my best efforts, I couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of fear that gripped me in his
I
presence.
It was a strange and unsettling feeling to stand before him as he studied me with such intensity. In that moment, he seemed more like a stranger than the husband he claimed to be. Doubt crept into my mind like a shadow, casting uncertainty over everything I thought I
Was he truly my husband, as he insisted? Or was there something more
was there something more sinister
sinister lurking beneath the surface of his seemingly benign facade? The questions swirled in my mind, each one more troubling than the last, as I struggled to make sense of the enigma that was Grant.
After what seemed like an eternity, he finally
swered. ”
You won’t be back in town until next week. He doesn’t need the trouble of visiting just to inform you of that,” he a cold
His words cut through the air like a knife, their cold aid with e
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s sending a shiver down my spine. I could feel the weight
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of his suspicion bearing down on me, each syllable laden with a sense of unease that I couldn’t shake.
As his words sank in, a realization dawned upon me like a bolt of lightning. It suddenly made sense why he had always b
so
ant about keeping me away from the town and why he never allowed me to venture there alone. There was something he was hiding-something he didn’t want me to
The pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place, painting a picture of deception and secrecy that chilled me to the core. Was he truly my husband, or was he something more sinister? And what secrets lay hidden behind the facade of our idyllic island life?
s burned within me with an intensity unlike
In that moment, the desperation to reclaim my lost memories burned within me with an intensity unlike anything I had ever felt before. I longed to peel back the layers of deceit and uncover the truth that lay buried beneath the surface, no matter the cost. For until I knew the truth, I would forever be trapped in a web of lies, held captive by the mysteries of my own mind.
heavy sigh, I conceded and chose to play along with his charade. The less he suspects that I’m harboring doubts, the greater my opportunities to uncover the truth will be.
reatm
“Yeah, you’re right. He probably has some deliveries on the nearby island, so he decided to drop by. But can we still check it? I was going to check out some new plants for my garden,” I said.
Grant’s expression softened slightly, his suspicion seemingly placated by my explanation. “Sure, we can check it out together,” he replied, though his tone still carried a hint of guardedness. “Why don’t we get inside for now? It’s getting dark already.”
I smiled in response before looking back at the vast ocean behind us as if the answers that I was looking for were there. I let out a loud sigh before following Grant inside the house.
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I couldn’t shake the feeling that the boy knew something important. He acted like he recognized the person in the photo but didn’t want to say anything. I wondered why he was keeping secrets from me.
I decided to follow him, hoping he’d tell me more. But no matter how hard I tried, I lost sight of him in
the busy streets.
I slumped my shoulder in defeat. But I have no plan to give up. Especially now that there’s hope of finding Blaire here. I had a feeling that I’d be close to finding her. I wasn’t planning on leaving until I found out the truth.
I tried to find a hotel nearby where I could settle for the night while waiting for reinforcement.
As I trudged along the dimly lit streets, a sense of determination burned within me, refusing to be extinguished by the weight of uncertainty. “I won’t give up,” I muttered to myself, the words echoing in
the stillness of the night.
Just then, a voice broke through my reverie, startling me out of my thoughts. “Hey, you lost, buddy?” A gruff voice called out from the shadows.
I turned to see a burly man leaning against the wall of a nearby building, his features obscured by the
darkness.
“Not lost, just looking for a place to stay for the night,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady despite the unease that prickled at the back of my neck.
The man nodded, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Well, you’re in luck. There’s a motel down the road, just a few blocks away. Not the fanciest place, but it’ll do in a pinch.”
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“Thanks; I’ll check it out,” I said, grateful for the tip.
With a nod of thanks, I turned and continued on my way, the promise of a warm bed and a roof over my head spurring me forward.
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As I reached the motel, I pushed open the creaking door and stepped inside, the musty smell of old carpet and stale air washing over me.
“Good evening, sir. How can I help you?” The receptionist asked, her voice polite but tinged with weariness.
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“I’d like a room for the night, please,” I replied, flashing her a tired smile.
“Certainly, sir. Just sign in here, and I’ll get you sorted,” she said, sliding a weathered ledger across the
counter.
After completing the necessary paperwork followed the receptionist down a dimly lit corridor, my
footsteps echoing softly against the worn linoleum floor. She stopped at a non–descript door and handed
me a key.
“Room 203. Enjoy your stay,” she said with a forced smile before disappearing back into the shadows.
I entered the room and closed the door behind me, the weight of exhaustion settling over me like a heavy blanket. Collapsing onto the bed, I allowed myself a moment of respite, knowing that tomorrow would bring new challenges and new revelations in my quest to uncover the truth.
茶餐餐廳
The room wasn’t anything like the fancy hotels I used to frequent during business trips. It was clean and all, but it lacked the comfort and luxury I was used to. Despite the cheap price, I just couldn’t settle down.
Instead of sleeping, I found myself staring at the ceiling, lost in thoughts that seemed to spiral endlessly. My mind kept wandering back to simpler times, when things weren’t so complicated.
You mean when Blaire was still crazy about you? The little voice inside my head piped up, cutting through the silence with its blunt truth.
I let out a heavy sigh, conceding that the voice had a point. I used to take advantage of Blaire’s devotion, knowing she’d always be there, waiting for me no matter what. But now, everything felt different.
Hoping to clear my mind, I figured a few drinks might help me doze off. Spotting a bar nearby, I headed over there. It was dimly lit and cozy–the perfect place to drown my thoughts in a glass or two.
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As I walked in, the sound of chatter and laughter filled the air, providing a welcome distraction from my racing mind. I found a seat at the counter and ordered a drink, hoping it would ease the turmoil within
- me.
“One glass of bourbon, please,” I ordered.
The bartender, a burly man with a friendly grin, slid the drink over to me. “That would be five dollars,”
he said with a nod.
“Thanks,” I muttered, taking a sip and relishing the burn as it slid down my throat.
“You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders,” the bartender remarked, wiping
down the counter.
“You could say that,” I replied, offering a half–hearted smile. “Just trying to clear my head, you know?”
He nodded sympathetically. “Well, you’re in the right place for it. Folks come here to escape their
troubles all the time.”
I chuckled softly, the tension in my shoulders easing ever so slightly. “Guess I’m not the only one then.”
The bartender gave me a knowing look. “We all have our demons, friend. The trick is learning how to
live with ‘em.”
I nodded in agreement, taking another sip of my drink.
I wasn’t even down to my first glass when I suddenly felt something as if someone had been lurking in the shadows and was watching my every move. The feeling of being watched lingered–a prickling sensation at the back of my neck that refused to dissipate. Despite my efforts to dismiss it, a sense of
unease settled over me like a heavy blanket.
As I took another sip of my drink, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. The usual chatter of the bar seemed to fade into the background, replaced by an eerie silence that made my skin crawl.
I glanced around the dimly lit room, searching for any sign of the mysterious presence that seemed to haunt me. But aside from the usual patrons lost in their own conversations, there was nothing out of the ordinary.
Brushing it off as paranoia, I forced myself to relax, determined not to let my imagination get the best of me. But deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched and that, whoever it was, they
were waiting, biding their time in the shadows.
Once I’m done with my second glass, I decide to go back to my room as I planned. I haven’t had that much to drink, so I’m still fine walking to my room. The night is already deep, and the street was only lighted by a few street lights. And as soon as I reached the dark alley, I felt a hard thing hit my head. The
next thing I knew, everything went blank.
After finishing my second glass, I resolved to return to my room as intended. The alcohol hadn’t dulled my senses too much, so I felt confident walking the streets alone. The night had grown late, and only a handful of streetlights lit the path.
As I passed through a dark alley, a sudden blow struck the back of my head with force. Pain exploded through my skull, and then darkness swallowed me whole. My consciousness slipped away, leaving me at the mercy of the unknown assailant lurking in the shadows.
