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Dr. Jameson starts to tremble, a bead of sweat dropping down his forehead. “Y-you leave my daughter out of this,” he says, his voice shaky.
I nod. “This is all just hypothetical, of course. I just want answers. So long as you give me that, you’ll walk out of here within a few minutes. This doesn’t have to take long.”
Dr. Jameson looks down, clearly distraught and uncertain about his next move, but I’ve got all the time in the world. He’ll talk. My only question is whether he’ll do it willingly.
“If a patient hasn’t regained their memory after five years, they likely won’t ever. Often, amnesia is a patient’s way of protecting themselves. If there were any particular traumatic events they experienced, the brain may decide they’re better off without those memories altogether. A fresh start, if you will.”
I lean back in my seat and tap my finger on the table as I digest his words. Could it be that she didn’t want to remember the loss of her father and the homelessness that followed? Or was it more than that? Did she want to forgetme? We may have struggled at times, but I thought we were happy.
“What if I tell her about our past?”
The doctor shakes his head. “I don’t recommend that. If she’s told about her memories, it’ll create false memories, and there’s a chance these false memories will fully overwrite her true memories. Have you ever heard of witness testimonies being false, despite the witness being 100% certain of what they saw? Simple leading questions can distort a memory entirely, convincing someone of something when the truth was entirely different. Our memories aren’t as reliable as we think they are, and they’re easily distorted.”
I continue to tap my finger on the table, unsure of what to do. I still remember her crying herself to sleep at night, the way she’d zone out with that vacant look in her eyes whenever she thought of her father. If I remind her of our past, she’ll also remember everything she lost — and there’s a chance that she won’t truly remember our past. I don’t want to instill memories in her that aren’t hers. I don’t ever want to manipulate her like that.
“Very well,” I murmur. “You may leave. I’ll find you if I have more questions.”
The door opens, and two of my men walk in to escort the doctor out, Amy right behind them. I look up at her, feeling lost. I finally found Alanna, yet I…didn’t. I always thought finding her would put me out of my misery, but I’m in just as much pain.
“Tell me where she went after her accident. Why did she just disappear?”
Amy nods and sits down opposite me as she pushes a file toward me. “We couldn’t find her because Alanna left the country a few months after her accident.”
I look up from the files in my hand. “She left the country? How? Where did she go?”
“She received a scholarship and attended a university in London, returning here only because of an exclusive exchange programme her university has with Astor College. Her name never flagged in the admissions system because she’s an exchange student. She isn’t officially enrolled at Astor College. She’s finishing her last few months of college here, earning her remaining few college credits.”
“That’s impossible. How could she possibly have gotten a scholarship to a foreign university? Alanna and I went through her scholarship applications together. There’s no way that’s possible.” I run a hand through my hair, frustration clawing at me. Finding her resulted in more questions than answers. “Why is it we couldn’t find her until she came to us? We should’ve found her the second she returned to the country. What the fuck do I pay you guys for if you couldn’t even do that?” I snap, on edge.
Amy shakes her head. “I’m still trying to figure out why she never showed up on any of our radars. We set extensive markers to identify her presence, but she eluded them all. I also can’t find out who was behind the scholarship. It appears to be an individual, sir. It isn’t an organisation.”
I rise from my seat and start to pace, my head spinning. What the fuck is going on? Could it be Mona? I shake my head. What would she stand to gain by keeping Alanna away from me? That doesn’t make any sense.
“What did you learn about the boyfriend?”
“Boss,” she says, her tone worried. “You may want to sit back down for this one.”
ChapterTwenty-Six
Alanna
“He’s here again,” Savannah murmurs, a dreamy expression in her eyes. She sighs happily as she leans over the counter, her head propped up on her elbow. I follow her gaze curiously, finding a handsome stranger seated in the corner of the coffee shop. He looks like he’s far too big for the small wooden chair, yet it doesn’t seem to bother him. He’s got his laptop in front of him, his gaze intense. He’s been coming here every day for two weeks now, and I find myself curious about him.
The man looks up, and my heart does this funny thing, almost as though it skips a beat. His eyes are the darkest green I’ve ever seen. They’re the color of expensive emeralds.
Everything about him screams luxury. He’s got cheekbones straight out of a magazine, and that hair… I bet it’d feel amazing to run your hand through that. He smiles at me, and I tense as I force a polite smile before dragging my eyes away.
“He’s been watching you ever since you started your shift,” Savannah says, a crestfallen expression on her face. “He’s been sitting there for hours, pretending like he isn’t watching you, when you’re so obviously all he can see. I should know. I’ve tried catching his attention more times than I can count.”
I glance back at him, surprised. He looksunattainable. It’s not just the obviously expensive suit, or the way he sits at that tiny table with his laptop that probably costs more than I spend on rent every month. It isn’t even his ridiculously good looks, that dark hair or those cheekbones. It’s something else. Something I can’t quite pin down.
Men like him don’t pay attention to girls like me.
“I have a boyfriend, remember?” I murmur as I finish making a mocha for one of our regulars. Oat milk. Extra shot of caramel. She orders the exact same thing every single day, and there’s a strange sense of comfort in that. “Here you go, Michelle,” I tell her as I hand her the mug.
Savannah smiles and tilts her head as she stares at me, a curious look in her eyes. “I never understood why you would date Ryan. He’s such an asshole, and while he seems to be faithful to you, he’s known to be a fuckboy, so I’m not sure how long he’ll remain loyal. Is it the money?”
I tense involuntarily and clench my jaw, swallowing down the insult. I can’t blame her for thinking it. At least she isn’t gossiping behind my back like everyone else is. Ryan is filthy rich, and I’m just a nobody. It’s no surprise to me that everyone around us thinks I’m a gold digger, but it doesn’t ever hurt any less.
