THE RETURN
1799 Words
Adrian was trying to replay everything that went down.
He knew for a fact that he had died as Daniel Knox. He remembered giving instructions to Eric, remembered closing his eyes, the darkness swallowing him whole.
But he didn't know if Eric had carried out his words.
He didn't know if the Italian Syndicate had raided the Mexican Cartels.
He didn't know if his men had survived. He didn't know if his legacy had been honored or forgotten.
The first thing he did after collecting his memories was to analyze his location. Time. Space. Year.
From all the information he gathered, it had officially been twelve years since he died. Twelve years since Daniel Knox took his last breath.
And in those twelve years, his Intel on the Italian Syndicate showed they had branched out into various networks. They had expanded. Grown. Become something even more powerful than before.
Adrian smiled to himself.
Because although what he searched for was not the syndicate per se—nothing would come up on it as it was hidden—his haven, which he had created as Knox Industries and Pharmaceuticals, was thriving.
The companies were booming. The profits were rolling in.
The thriving of these companies showed that the mafia was still holding strong.
His empire was still standing, and his men were still loyal.
He missed Eric.
After all, the bastard was twenty-four when he died. By now, he should be thirty-six. A man in his prime. A leader in his own right.
Adrian wondered if Eric had mourned him. If he had carried out his final orders.
If he had found Marina's gift and made good use of it like he had been told.
He would find out soon enough.
—
"We've arrived. Don't give me stress at all today," Ethan said, grumbling as he moved to step down from the car.
"Don't irritate me and peace might just rain," Adrian said coolly as he stepped out.
He came face to face with a five-foot mansion.
It was grand, sprawling, with a vast lawn that stretched across about five acres.
The architecture was expensive, the landscaping immaculate. Everything screamed money.
Adrian scoffed in his heart.
The Italian Cartel side base was times two bigger than this, talk less of his own house.
The mansion he had owned as Daniel Knox had been a fortress, a palace, a monument to his power.
This was just a wealthy man's playground.
He surveyed his surroundings, his eyes scanning the property with a practiced, calculating gaze.
He took note of the security cameras, the guards, the exits. Old habits died hard.
Until his eye landed on three irritating faces and one gentle one.
"Adrian. My dear. How are you?" Vanessa asked, her voice dripping with honey.
She was beautiful, he had to admit. Slim, polished, perfectly dressed, but her eyes were cold. Calculating.
She was a predator wearing a mask of kindness.
"Sickening," Adrian spat out.
Vanessa's face coiled with anger. Her carefully constructed smile faltered for just a moment before she forced it back into place.
"What did you just say?" Ethan bellowed. His face was red, his fists clenched.
"Don't yell. She asked a question. I answered," Adrian said coldly, as his eyes swept over them, dismissing them like they were beneath his notice.
"Big brother. We heard from Dad that you lost your memories. Is that true?" Cain asked cautiously. His voice was careful, measured, testing the waters.
"Why? Is there something I should be aware of?" Adrian asked with a raised brow.
Cain's eyes flickered with something—relief? Satisfaction? It was gone before Adrian could identify it.
"Of course not. We were just worried. Do you know who I am?" Cain asked.
"No, but you did call me big brother. Introduce yourself," Adrian said matter-of-factly.
Cain was surprised.
Well, they did say that when someone lost their memories, they tended to undergo a character change. He recovered quickly.
"My name is Cain. This here is our mother, Vanessa, and over here is Clarissa," Cain introduced, gesturing to his left and right respectively.
Adrian looked at them, looked at himself and then looked back at them.
"She may be your mother, but she clearly isn't mine. Skin tone is a whole lot different, and my face card is high grade." He paused, tilting his head. "So in terms of looks, I can say I rank top. Am I wrong or right?"
He turned toward his father, waiting for an answer.
The eyes of the three people he had just ignored dilated with pure envy.
They knew it was true. Adrian's mother, Celeste Campbell, was the world's known beauty model.
No one could rival her in looks or status, and her father, George Campbell, was a renowned businessman whose main branch was in Chicago.
Celeste was George's only child, and he had been wrathful when she chose a complete snoob as her boyfriend.
Her father had given her an ultimatum—leave your boy toy or be disowned.
She had chosen the latter. She had chosen love. She had chosen wrong.
Ethan Cross, her bodyguard, soon became her husband after an incident that made her unable to work anymore and had to leave the show business.
Her father, although angry with her, heard the news of her pregnancy and sent her a gift. All in his grandson's name.
Four estates. Two companies and a check that literally screamed "b***h RICH."
Ethan had been happy. He thought he had hit the jackpot when he got Celeste pregnant.
But on the day of their wedding, when Celeste's father really didn't show up, and his financial aid ended with just the news of the pregnancy, he was livid.
He took his frustrations out on her. Drinking. Smoking, till eventually bringing women home.
Adrian was three years old when Ethan had him and Celeste thrown out of the house under the pouring rain.
Vanessa Clint was on his arms, seven months pregnant for him. Little Cain was by their side.
Celeste cried bitterly, but she couldn't bring herself to contact her father. She felt she had heavily disappointed him.
With the little she had left, she went to the countryside in China, where she toiled for three years in a land nobody knew her.
That was until she met Salvador Grant.
A man with an eight-year-old son who had recently lost his wife about a year ago.
There was nothing at first. Just friends who found solace and peace in each other's presence.
Until one day.
A stormy day.
Salvador's son, Simon, had gotten seriously ill when Salvador was out gathering wood to keep his little cottage warm.
Celeste had arrived at Salvador's home with six-year-old Adrian to deliver some food she had prepared.
Through the cracks of the door, she saw Simon on the floor. Unmoving.
Her heart sank.
Breaking open the door, Celeste ran toward Simon and crouched down. She checked his pulse and thanked the Lord; it was very faint, but it was there.
"Adrian, honey. You're a big boy, right?" she asked her son.
Adrian nodded obediently.
"Okay, good. Please stay here. When Uncle gets back, tell him I carried Simon to the square clinic, okay?"
Adrian nodded again.
Celeste kissed his forehead and picked up Simon.
She grabbed a cloth to cover his face and body from the rain as much as she could, and then she ran.
She ran, fell, picked herself up again, and she continued running.
"DOCTOR!!!"
Celeste screamed at the top of her lungs as she stumbled into the clinic.
Simon was immediately pried from her arms as treatment commenced immediately.
"Ma'am, please, you need to leave a statement. What is your relationship with the patient?" a nurse asked while trying to calm her down and take down the information.
"I am..."
"Mom," Simon cried from the bed.
"I'm here, dear. I'm here," Celeste said immediately as she rushed toward his side.
The nurse jotted down what she had witnessed and filled out the remaining information.
—
Thirty minutes later...
A man came stumbling into the clinic with a six-year-old boy in his arms.
"My s... my son... where is he?" he asked the nurse breathlessly.
"Name of your son, sir?" the nurse asked politely.
"Simon... Simon Grant."
"Your son is in room five with his moth..."
Whatever was left to be said fell on space as Salvador took off toward room five.
"Simon!"
Salvador opened the door. He found his son, whose face was tucked into Celeste's neck as she sang a lullaby that lured him to sleep.
Salvador couldn't help but break down. He cried so pitifully that Celeste couldn't hold back either.
Adrian, who had been brought to the hospital soaking wet, started crying from the cold and seeing his mother cry.
Simon, who had only slept for fifteen minutes, was awakened by all the noise.
"Dad? Why are you crying?" he asked.
"I... I shouldn't have left you on your own," Salvador said as he came toward his son.
"It's fine, Dad. Even I didn't know it would become this bad. So it's okay," Simon said, smiling, trying to lighten the mood.
Salvador hugged his son as his tears continued to pour.
"I don't know what I would do if I lost you," Salvador sobbed into his son's hair.
Looking up at Celeste, he noticed that her feet, elbows, and some parts of her legs were bandaged. Medical patches were on the side of her face.
"Thank you, Celeste. You saved my world."
And that began their love story.
Two years after that incident, Simon was ten. Adrian was eight, and Celeste and Salvador were beautifully wedded with a beautiful baby girl on the way.
—
Back to reality...
"Am I right?" Adrian said with a smirk. "Because, for one, I have beautiful caramel skin, while theirs is as white as a pale ghost."
"Why you little..." Ethan grunted.
Adrian ignored him; his eyes found the last face that had stared at him since his arrival.
"I am hungry. I believe you might be the butler. From your fancy suit and perfect pose." He paused. "Lead me to my room. Have my food brought to me."
From his memories, he knew that the butler was the only one who genuinely cared for the previous Adrian.
The previous owner of this body had been treated like a servant, but Jacob Kim had always been kind.
"Yes, sir. My name is Jacob Kim," Jacob answered as he bowed.
"Okay. So how should I address you? Jacob? Kim? Uncle Jacob? Uncle Kim? Butler Jacob? Butler Kim?" Adrian asked.
"Butler Kim is just fine, sir," Jacob answered.
"Alright, Uncle Kim. Lead the way."
Adrian smiled.
Jacob shook his head in defeat, but he smiled too.
- Writer
