Chapter 23: CH- 23

Nathan’s POV

My head felt like it was about to explode. I pressed my hands against my temples, rubbing them slowly in a futile attempt to ease the pounding ache inside.

Doctor Friggard watched me with concern etched across his face.

"Nate, are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft but probing.

I didn’t answer right away. How could I be okay? My mind was a blank slate, and this strange-looking doctor had just told me there was no cure for whatever had been done to me. Dizziness washed over me, and I swayed slightly on the spot, certain I’d collapse.

"Hey, hey. Come here; just lay down gently," Doctor Friggard said, grabbing me by the shoulder and guiding me to rest my head on the armrest. As soon as I was lying flat on my back, the dizziness began to subside. "It's alright. Just don't try to think too hard."

The next thing I knew, I must have dozed off. When I opened my eyes again, Doctor Friggard had taken off his jacket and was poring over a file at the table.

Papers were scattered everywhere. My stomach growled loudly, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten all day.

"Well, I guess we have to do something about that rumbling stomach, huh?" Doctor Friggard stood up and headed toward the pantry.

"Let's see what we have here. We’ve got some pizza, prepared salad, cheese, and spaghetti. We can even whip up some lasagna if you're feeling adventurous."

"There was nothing in the pantry when I checked earlier," I said, sitting up. The dizziness had faded, leaving me feeling marginally better.

"Your father asked me to pick up some meals while I was coming," he replied, already clattering around with utensils. "Tell me, what do you like?"

"I don’t know," I admitted, shrugging helplessly. "Anything’s fine, I guess."

"Hmm." He cracked a few eggs and started whisking them. "Let’s test a theory. Can you remember what your favorite meal is?"

"Pancakes," I blurted out without hesitation. Then I froze, startled by the clarity of the memory. "How did I remember that? Is that part of my core memory too?"

"Well, basically, yes—but it’s a bit more complicated than that," Doctor Friggard explained as the smell of melting butter filled the air.

"The drug I suspect you were given targets surface memories—recent ones tied to logic and reasoning. But deeper, core memories like speaking English, driving a car, or cooking should still remain intact."

"But how did I recognize Lucas?" I asked, frowning. "Well, not that I recognized him exactly, but I could tell he was my friend."

Doctor Friggard stopped what he was doing and came over to sit near me. His expression softened.

"Nathan, I know how confusing and uncertain this must feel, but if there’s one person you need to trust completely, it’s Lucas. He’s been your closest friend since childhood. He’ll do anything to keep you safe."

I nodded, a wave of nostalgia washing over me. Doctor Friggard returned to the kitchen and reappeared moments later with pancakes drizzled in honey.

"Wait, pancakes are my favorite, right?" I asked, smiling faintly. For once, I was proud of myself for remembering something.

"Sure, son. It’s another core memory of yours," Doctor Friggard muttered, returning my smile. "Now eat up. One thing you should know is that you have the appetite of a wolf."

As I worked my way through the pancakes, Doctor Friggard cleared his throat and spoke again.

"Remember what I said earlier about your memory loss not having a cure?" I paused mid-bite, dread pooling in my stomach.

He continued undeterred. "I’ve had more time to think about it—and read up on recent developments. When we first started our trials, resources were limited, and data was scarce. Before I left Nevada, the team was already analyzing chemicals that might reverse the effects of the drug you were given. It’s been two years. I’m sure they’ve made progress."

"What are you saying?" I demanded, setting the plate aside.

He hesitated. "I’m saying there’s a chance—a slim one—that we might be able to reverse your condition and restore your memories. But I have to warn you: these drugs are still in trial phases. A lot could go wrong."

"Scrap that. I need that drug," I said firmly, standing abruptly.

Doctor Friggard rose to his feet, looking alarmed. "Nate, listen to me. I told you the trial data was leaked to the public. If research is still ongoing, it means someone dangerous—and likely very wealthy—is behind it."

I wasn’t interested in caution. If there was a chance I could get my memories back, I was willing to take any risk. "Lucas told me this morning that I’m a billionaire."

Doctor Friggard sighed. "Yes, you are."

I stepped closer to him, gripping his hands tightly. "You said you understand what it’s like to not remember anything—to feel lost. If you truly do, then you’ll help me. Please."

He placed a reassuring hand over mine. "Alright, Nate. I hear you. I’ll make a few calls."

Relief flooded through me, and I let out the breath I’d been holding. "Thank you, Doctor."

Before either of us could say another word, Lucas burst into the house, visibly shaken. "Nate, things have changed. It’s worse than I anticipated." He paced anxiously, running a hand through his hair. "Doctor Friggard, how did it go?"

"We have a plan. I’ll fill you in later. What’s wrong?" the doctor asked calmly.

Lucas struggled to speak, his voice trembling. "The woman found dead in your room—it’s Deri. Deri Vander." He stopped, remembering I wouldn’t recognize the name, and quickly added, "Daughter of the billionaire Mr. Vander. You know—the guy who sells guns to the highest bidder."

"Oh my God," I whispered, running my hands over my face. "Are you saying I’m going to be killed soon?"

Lucas turned to face me, his tone firm despite the fear in his eyes. "I won’t let that happen. But we need to act fast." He glanced at Doctor Friggard.

"We need to review everyone who attended the launch yesterday. That’s where the answer lies. Someone tampered with your drink, but we can’t do this alone. We need help."

He hesitated, his jaw tightening.

"I’ve asked Amelia to help."