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“You are, but you’re also Gareth Ellis’ only heir. Our families don’t like attention from anyone, police included.”
There’s something he’s not telling me, but what?
His face breaks into a smile and I recognize that he shut off the subject altogether. “My house is your house. And don’t worry, Blackwood College isn’t far.”
“Okay.” I would rather stay with someone who clearly cares about my well-being than being alone anyway.
“Are you ready to go home, Reina?”
Does it matter when I don’t even know where my home is?
Home is a mansion.
The house is three stories and so big I don’t see the end of it. It’s even located on the outskirts of town, which means Alexander is a private man.
The entire front of the house is made of glass. The whole scene seems more like a monumental museum than a place where people live.
A circular garden surrounds the front of the house with trees cut into geometrical shapes. Beds of colorful tulips and roses decorate the space between trees.
A kidney-shaped pool sits in the distance. A low, thumping of music comes from that direction.
Alexander pushes my wheelchair, telling me about the house, how I brought it to life when I used to live here and how he left my room unchanged. He shows me the vast grassy area where I used to practice my moves for the cheerleading squad.
Apparently, I’ve been a cheerleader since high school. Even though I’m studying human sciences at Blackwood, I still cheer for the team.
Seriously, why the hell would I continue doing that stuff three years after high school?
The more I learn about myself, the clearer the picture becomes.
My entire life is like a jigsaw of plastic pieces.
I’m rich—well, Alexander is. My father could’ve been rich too since he was best friends with him.
“What did my father do?” I ask Alexander.
“Gareth was a real estate mogul.” His tone is sad, and it affects me, too.
“So he was rich?”
“Rich?” He laughs with no humor. “He was a tycoon, Rei. He owned half of Blackwood, and now you do, of course.”
I couldn’t care less whether I’m rich or not, but for some reason, I’m glad I have some sort of independence. I’d hate to think Alex took me in as a type of charity case.
“Your father was…” He trails off as if weighing his words. “He had some connection to a bad crowd, so if you remember anything, tell me first.”
My spine jerks upright as I slowly turn around in my chair. Alex stands there with a neutral expression.
“What type of bad crowd?”
“It’s better if you don’t know.”
“I knew before I lost my memories, right?”
“Not exactly.”
“Alex.” My tone turns pleading. “Have you seen my face? Someone wanted me dead. If there’s a threat to my life, I have the right to know.”
He halts in front of majestic double doors with a black and white marble pattern, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Gareth did business with the mafia. Italian, Russian. You name it.”
