Chapter 3: I Hate You
885 Words
The tires screeched as Adrian's black sedan sped through the rain-soaked streets.
Inside the car, silence was deafening.
The woman sat in the passenger seat, her breathing uneven after the chase. Rainwater dripped from her coat onto the leather seat, but she didn't seem to notice.
Her eyes never left the window.
Adrian glanced at her briefly before returning his attention to the road.
"Are you hurt?"
She didn't answer.
"I asked you a question."
"I heard you."
"Then answer it."
"I'm alive."
Her voice was cold.
Sharp.
The kind of voice that warned people to stay away.
Adrian tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
"Three men with guns don't chase innocent people."
She laughed bitterly.
"You would know."
His jaw clenched.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
She finally looked at him.
Her eyes were filled with hatred.
"I know exactly who you are, Adrian Wolfe."
"So tell me."
"You're a man who destroys lives and calls it business."
He stared at her.
"We've never met."
"Haven't we?"
The question lingered between them.
Before Adrian could respond, the car turned through a pair of massive iron gates.
The gates closed automatically behind them.
His safe house.
Hidden outside the city and known only to a handful of trusted people.
If anyone could reach her here...
Then someone inside his inner circle was leaking information.
The front door opened before Adrian reached it.
Mrs. Eleanor Hayes, the elderly housekeeper who had worked for the Wolfe family for decades, smiled warmly.
"You're home early, Mr. Wolfe."
Her smile disappeared when she saw the soaked woman standing beside him.
"Oh, dear."
"I need the guest room prepared."
"Of course."
Mrs. Hayes turned to the young woman.
"My dear, you're freezing."
"I'm fine."
"Nonsense."
The older woman gently touched her hand.
The young woman flinched instinctively.
Mrs. Hayes immediately withdrew.
"I'm sorry."
For a brief moment, something flickered across the stranger's face.
Regret.
Then it was gone.
An hour later...
She stood alone in the guest bedroom, staring at herself in the mirror.
The woman reflected back at her felt like a stranger.
Who are you?
She whispered the question almost every night.
The answer never came.
She knew her name.
Elena Cross.
She remembered growing up in a small coastal town.
She remembered studying art.
She remembered laughing with a woman whose face she could no longer see clearly.
But everything before three years ago felt... incomplete.
Like pages had been torn from a book.
A knock interrupted her thoughts.
"Come in."
Adrian entered carrying a first-aid kit.
"You have a cut on your arm."
"I'll deal with it."
"You've already bled through your sleeve."
She glanced down.
Only then did she notice the blood.
She sighed.
"Fine."
He placed the kit on the table.
"I'll call a doctor."
"No."
"You need medical attention."
"I said no."
The force in her voice surprised even herself.
Adrian studied her carefully.
"Why are you afraid of hospitals?"
She froze.
"I didn't say I was."
"You didn't have to."
For the first time since they met, uncertainty crossed her face.
Why was she afraid?
The thought of white hospital corridors made her chest tighten.
She could hear alarms.
Smell smoke.
Then—
A sharp pain exploded behind her eyes.
She staggered.
Adrian caught her before she hit the floor.
"Don't touch me!"
She shoved him away so hard that he stumbled back.
"I told you not to touch me!"
Her breathing became ragged.
"I'm sorry," Adrian said quietly. "I wasn't trying to—"
"Save it."
She pointed toward the door.
"I know what kind of man you are."
"And what kind is that?"
"The kind who smiles while other people suffer."
His expression darkened.
"You've judged me without knowing me."
"I know enough."
"You don't know anything."
She laughed.
A broken, humorless laugh.
"I know that people died because of you."
Adrian's face hardened.
"Who told you that?"
She opened her mouth—
Then stopped.
A face flashed through her mind.
Blurred.
Unclear.
Someone whispering to her in the darkness.
Never trust Adrian Wolfe.
She blinked.
The memory vanished as quickly as it came.
"I..."
She frowned.
"I don't remember."
Adrian noticed.
"You don't remember?"
She turned away.
"Leave."
Later that night...
Adrian sat alone in his study.
The old explosion case file lay open on his desk.
Photographs.
Witness statements.
Insurance reports.
Everything had been examined a hundred times.
Yet tonight...
One detail caught his attention.
The list of survivors.
His eyes narrowed.
Someone's name had been blacked out.
Not crossed out.
Not removed.
Blacked out.
As if someone wanted to erase that person completely.
His phone vibrated.
Nathan.
"I found something."
"What is it?"
"The woman."
Adrian stood.
"Talk."
"We finally identified her."
A pause.
"Her name is Elena Cross."
"I already know that."
"No, sir..."
Nathan's voice shook.
"I don't think that's her real name."
Adrian's heartbeat slowed.
"What are you saying?"
"I searched every national database."
"And?"
"There isn't a single official record of an Elena Cross before three years ago."
Silence.
"It gets worse."
Adrian waited.
"The identity appeared two weeks after the explosion."
Adrian slowly lowered the phone.
The rain battered the windows outside.
Across the hallway, Elena slept fitfully, unaware that the life she believed was hers... might never have existed.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD