CH- 20
CH- 20
Nathan’s POV
I wasn’t thrilled about taking the wheel, but once I swapped seats with Lucas, I nearly drove us past the address my father had given us.
The place looked like it belonged in a forgotten corner of history—overgrown bushes, peeling paint, walls that screamed for attention.
It was eerie, yet oddly perfect as a hideout. To my surprise, the interior was better kept than the exterior suggested.
A sturdy house greeted us, complete with a massive library filled with over a thousand books lining its shelves.
Lucas flicked on the lights, visibly relieved when they worked. There was running water, at least, though the pantry was empty. My stomach growled loudly, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since waking up this morning. Everything felt surreal.
“Is this where we’ll be staying?” I asked, checking the barren fridge.
“This is where you’ll be staying for now,” Lucas clarified. “At least until we figure things out. Hopefully your dad’s doctor will hear from soon—I have to get back to work.”
“Where do you work?” The question slipped out before I could stop myself.
Lucas raised an eyebrow, clearly still shocked by how much I didn’t remember. “I work at your company. You have your own company, Nathan—a tech empire that made you a billionaire. Yesterday, you launched some groundbreaking cyberware products. And honestly? I think whatever happened last night has something to do with all of this.”
His words hit me hard. I leaned against the counter, focusing intently. “Do you think someone did this to me? Like… deliberately?”
“I don’t want to jump to conclusions,” Lucas said carefully, “but you’ve got enemies, Nate. You don’t become a billionaire without stepping on toes or making rivals.”
“Anyone specific?” I pressed.
He hesitated. “Not off the top of my head. But last night, you drank way more than usual—which isn’t like you. After that, you started feeling dizzy, so we headed to your penthouse together. I left you alone, thinking you were fine.”
I sank onto a chair, trying to process everything. “Could it have been something in my drink? Maybe someone slipped something?”
“That’s what I’ve been wondering too,” Lucas admitted. “We both drank at the same time, so whoever did it was targeting you.” He glanced at his watch. “Listen, you’ll be safe here, okay? I need to get going.” He handed me the key. “Your dad mentioned an underground bunker. Look for it.”
“Okay,” I muttered, though the thought of being left alone unsettled me. Still, I wouldn’t admit it—not even to myself.
“Will you be alright?” Lucas asked, concern etched across his face. For a moment, I saw fear mirrored in his eyes, reflecting my own unease.
“I’ll do my best to stay okay,” I replied, forcing confidence into my voice. Lucas nodded, then left.
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The silence of the house pressed down on me as soon as the door closed behind him. My stomach growled again, echoing through the empty rooms. I couldn’t shake the feeling of being utterly lost. Time to search for the underground space—it might hold supplies, maybe even food.
I wandered through the rooms, surprised to find them clean and orderly. In one room, I stumbled upon a set of fresh clothes.
After a quick shower, I changed and grabbed the house key, ready to explore further.
The library caught my attention next. Shelves upon shelves of books covered topics ranging from entrepreneurship to geography. Whoever owned this house must have been an avid reader. Opposite the library, the wall seemed unusual—an opening disguised as part of the structure.
When I knocked, it sounded hollow. Summoning my strength, I pushed against it, and the wall creaked open, revealing a hidden white room.
Inside, a single chair sat at the far end, and on the floor, there was a lock. Instinctively, I knew the key was meant for this. Unlocking it, I pulled the lever upward, releasing a faint smell of decay—not overwhelming, but noticeable. A ladder led downward into darkness.
Descending cautiously, I found myself in an underground basement stocked with essentials: a first-aid kit, camping gear, a mini-fridge, and even a hunting rifle mounted on the wall.
A note scrawled on the wall read: “Service is down.”
Despite the grimness, I couldn’t deny it was a good spot for a hideout.
Suddenly, I froze. Was that noise real, or was my mind playing tricks on me? Heart pounding, I climbed back upstairs, locked the basement door, and moved swiftly toward the source of the sound. Someone was definitely moving around the house quietly. It wasn’t Lucas—he would have announced himself. Clutching the chair tightly, I steeled myself. Whoever they were, I wasn’t going to cower.
Pushing the door open, I came face-to-face with an older man rifling through the library. Startled, he quickly raised his hands.
“Geez, Nate. Relax. When did you get so paranoid?” he joked, adjusting his gardener’s hat. His white hair spilled out from beneath it, giving him a quirky appearance. Something about him radiated familiarity.
“You can drop the chair now. It’s Doctor Friggard—your family doctor.”
The name didn’t ring a bell, but I lowered the chair anyway. An old man like him didn’t seem threatening. “How did you get in?”
Doctor Friggard sighed and eased himself into a seat. “An old man needs to rest these bones. I let myself in. Your father called me and said you might need help.”
My father’s promise of sending a doctor suddenly clicked into place.
“You can trust me, Nathan,” the doctor continued. “It’s all over the news about the woman found dead in your bed, but anyone who knows you understands you’re not capable of murder.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, grateful for the reassurance.
Doctor Friggard chuckled. “The Nathan I know wouldn’t thank me for stating the obvious. Sit down.”
Once seated beside him, he began firing off questions. “Do you feel dizzy right now?”
“No.”
“How did you feel when you woke up today?”
“Disoriented. I kept waiting for memories to surface, but nothing came.”
He nodded thoughtfully, pulling out notes from his bag. “When your father told me about your memory loss, something occurred to me. After I stopped being your family doctor, I delved into neurology research—specifically, reversing conditions like Alzheimer’s and dementia. Along the way, we developed drugs designed to induce temporary memory loss in test subjects.”
He paused, removing his glasses. Without them, he looked younger somehow. “Unfortunately, our studies were breached. Some of those drugs ended up on the black market, sold to the highest bidder. Based on your symptoms, I suspect you’ve been dosed with one of them.”
I stood abruptly, pacing the room. “Slipped into my drink? Lucas said we both drank the same thing!”
“It’s possible only your drink was tampered with,” he explained patiently. “This drug targets surface memories while leaving core skills intact—like driving or making…..”
“Is there a cure?” I demanded, stopping him mid-way. “Is there a cure for this?”
Doctor Friggard hesitated, his expression grave. “I’m afraid not. Not yet.”