Chapter Four
Caius
I ’m missing something.
I’ve known this for months, but now that I’m truly looking, I can practically feel the deception hanging thick in the air. Dad watches me with narrowed eyes, studying me intently, while Theo can’t meet my gaze. Guilt.
What does my brother have to feel guilty about?
Maybe he feels badly about withholding the truth from me. I’ve asked on multiple occasions about things I can’t seem to remember. His answers always sound rehearsed. Like a practiced lie. It’s unsettling.
But he’s my brother.
If I can’t trust him, who can I trust?
Calista.
“Is there a reason why you didn’t bring your sister?” Dad asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m worried about her staying cooped up in your house all day, every day.”
“Period,” I say with a grimace. “Girls have cramps and can be totally bitchy during that time.”
It’s not a total lie.
It’s not the truth either.
I chose to leave Calista at home. With my memory patchy and my suspicions raised, I don’t like bringing her into an environment I don’t have complete control over. She’s clearly afraid of my father and brother. We’re just now regaining our closeness, so I’ll be damned if I throw away our progress by forcing her to come to the lodge.
“I see,” Dad says and then visibly relaxes. “I brought you boys in today to discuss the future of CUP.”
Theo frowns. My eyebrows twitch, but I have the urge to keep my expression impassive. Instinctually, I know that Dad will use my emotions against me if I show them. Another thing I don’t remember but somehow know on a gut level.
“Theo,” Dad says, turning to my brother, “we have a new subject for the CUP program. An influential man from New York is looking for a wife.”
His words prickle at the back of my mind.
“I can help him,” I blurt out, unable to keep my words from spilling out. “I need to get back to work.”
Because of my “strange memory loss,” Dad has allowed me into meetings but not to do actual work within the CUP program. I’m curious what this work entails. I know the essence of it, but I need to see it for my own two eyes. Again. Since I clearly have forgotten. Maybe my memories will flood back at that point.
Dad tears his gaze from my brother to scrutinize my intentions. I give him my best, most earnest look, hoping to convince him. Whatever he sees must confirm that I’m up to the task because he nods once.
“Theo will run point,” Dad says, “but I think you’re right. It’s time you come back into the fold. If things can get back to the way they used to be, we’ll make our mark on this world as it should be.”
His words are chilling and ominous. Again, I remain stiff and emotionless so as not to give away the unease trickling through me.
Dad’s phone rings and he excuses himself from the conference room where we have our meetings. Theo is quiet for a few seconds after the door closes behind him. Then he turns his penetrating stare on me.
“You really don’t remember anything, do you?”
I arch an eyebrow at him. “What is it that I seem to be forgetting?”
Another flash of guilt in his gaze. “Nothing of value.”
The lie strikes me like a bolt of lightning. There is something I’m forgetting and he knows exactly what it is. It’s important to me. That’s why he feels guilty.
“I’m sure every detail, no matter how minute, could help piece together the holes in my head. What aren’t you telling me, Theo?”
Irritation twists his boyish features and he shrugs. “Nothing, man. If it truly were important to you, you’d remember.”
The bitterness in his words makes my hackles rise. It almost sounds like he’s jealous.
Of what?
I close my eyes, imploring myself to remember. It’s then I get a brief glimpse of a forgotten conversation in a hotel hallway.
“It’s not what it looked like. It was my fault,” Theo admits, shoulders hunched in shame. “I just…I just wanted to make her feel better.”
“She’s my girlfriend,” I hiss out. “Not yours.”
“Fuck, Cai. I know, okay? I said I’m sorry.”
The anger bubbling up inside me is boiling over. “Did she kiss you back?”
“Nah, man.” He meets my gaze with a sad one. “Do you really like her? Because if you don’t, you should just break it off. Fake or not—”
And then, nothing.
Fake or not?
What does that even mean?
I get the sense I may have gone through a nasty breakup with someone I deeply cared about. So why can’t I remember? Did Dad put me through the CUP program? Is that why he’s hesitant about me working in the trenches of it for fear of discovering the truth?
One thing’s for certain. I cannot let on that I’m remembering things. The two of them are doing their damnedest to make sure I don’t recall my past.
Was the blonde from Calista’s art the woman we were arguing about?
Is that why I had such a visceral reaction to seeing her face?
“You know,” Theo says after a ragged sigh, “we really thought once you got your sister back, you’d go back to normal. Is having Calista not good enough for you? Do you always have to be so suspicious about everything?”
“Where was my sister?” I demand in a low growl. “Where did we get her from? What happened to her when she was away from me?”
Theo’s eyes widen as if he just now remembers something he shouldn’t have said. The fog is beginning to lift in my mind. Fucking finally. I’ve been drifting for months, satisfied I have Calista back. Not once did I question how I got her back, and worse, from whom.
“Does it matter?” Theo scrubs his palm over his face. “She’s back. Just accept it. Otherwise, who knows what Dad will do.”
His words are clearly a threat. And it’s one I don’t take lightly. He’s right. Calista’s safety could be at stake. I won’t jeopardize that.
“Fine,” I grumble, “but I’m ready to be shown the ropes again. Dad’s getting old. One day it’ll be up to us to take over this empire.”
Theo grins, though the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “There’s the Caius we all know and love.”
For the first time in months, I do feel like my usual self.
Something dark and sinister lurks beneath my family. It’s about damn time I dig it up.
Blue eyes haunt me. Ever since Calista showed me her drawing earlier, I’ve been obsessing over it. Now that I’ve been dismissed from Dad’s meeting, I’m eager to get back to my computer. Not to work. Far from it. I need answers. The artwork rattles locked doors in my mind. I’m itching to find out more.
Calista’s door is closed when I get back home. I leave her to her privacy. Once I give the cooks a quick suggestion about dinner, I snatch my laptop from my office and head for my bedroom. My office feels cold and lonely. At least in my bedroom, the chaise lounge is comfortable and her scent lingers there.
I had a girlfriend. Someone whom I was clearly possessive over based on my memory with Theo at our meeting. Who was she? I could have asked Theo right then, but I know he’d have evaded the answer. This is something I’m going to have to discover on my own. In my gut, I hope it’s the woman from Calista’s drawing.
As soon as I get situated on the chaise, I smell a distinct feminine vanilla scent. It’s as if her ghost sits here with me. Did we break up or did she die? My gut twists at the idea of losing her permanently.
You don’t even know who she is, dumbass.
I flip open my laptop, type in the password, and go straight to one of the programs I created. It’s unnerving to me that I can do all this by muscle memory, but I can’t remember so much. Once in the program, I airdrop the picture Calista sent me to run through it. While it analyzes the image, I do my best to determine when my memory loss happened.
Dad and Theo both claim I hit my head during the Christmas holidays on our family trip to New York, which resulted in a hospital stay. There was some damage done to the part of my brain that stores memories. Considering Dad specializes in therapies and treatments that are meant to brainwash a human, I’m obviously concerned I’ve been an unwilling victim.
Why would Dad choose to put me through the CUP program if that’s what happened? Did I do something to anger him or did I ask him to? Am I trying to get over this mysterious woman?
There are more questions than answers, which is frustrating.
While I wait for the AI to tell me something about Calista’s drawing, I decide to see what I can find out about my sister. It feels stupid doing this behind her back, but she’s not exactly forthcoming with information. Sometimes it even feels as if she sees me as an enemy—someone to be feared. I know that’s ridiculous because she’s the only true family I have left, but I still get a doubtful pit in my gut about it.
Calista Crowne doesn’t exist on the internet. A simple search pulls up nothing that can be linked to her. It’s not super alarming, but it does give me pause. Most girls her age have a social media presence at the very least. Calista has nothing.
I AM LULU.
The image of her screensaver flashes in my mind, signaling me to look in that direction next. A ding, indicating the completion of the image scan, steals my attention back to the AI program. I hit play for analysis to be read to me.
“Based on an extensive web search, it is determined your image matches that of four potential people—a female with a ninety-nine percent match, a female with a point-oh-five percent match, a male with a point-oh-five percent match, and a male with a point-oh-two-five percent match. Which one would you like the results for?”
“The one with the highest match,” I bark out, eager for more information. The fact that this woman is real is exhilarating.
“Great, thank you,” the AI says. “I’ll proceed with the ninety-nine percent match.” The computer beeps again. “Sorry, but there’s been an error.”
“An error?” I ask, confused. “What kind of error?”
“I’m unable to access classified documents.”
Classified? What the hell?
“Proceed,” I instruct. “You’re programmed to override any and all encryptions. Show me the highest match. Now.”
“In order to proceed, please create a patch that allows me to access the following encryptions.” The AI bot throws out a bunch of code on screen for me to view. “Perhaps I shall give you the details of the others in the meantime?”
“No.”
Frustrated, I run my fingers through my hair and tug at the strands. I know enough that my program is capable of accessing any file across the web. Someone has gone to great lengths to hide this woman. From who? Me?
Maybe she doesn’t want to be found.
Too damn bad. I need to know who she is—to see if she’s the woman I fought with my brother about in my memory. If she is, I want to speak to her. She could hold the answers I need. Plus, I want to know why we broke up. I’m clearly still not over her if she’s putting cracks in my mental safe, showing me slivers of a life with her.
It takes most of the early evening, but I manage to work through a string of code to bypass the encryptions. I’m mentally exhausted, bleary-eyed, and honestly unsure how I managed to do something so technical with very little memories.
“Try it now,” I tell the AI. “I need to know her name, where she lives, where she’s at now. I need everything.”
I rub at my eyes and ignore the gnawing hunger in my gut. I’ll rest and eat as soon as I learn who this woman is, but not a second before.
Ding.
The AI pops a picture into the window for me to view. As soon as I see the intelligent blue eyes, silky blond hair, and pouty pink lips, my chest tightens in familiar response. I know her. Hell, I think I even love her.
“Romy Langston, age nineteen, is the daughter of media mogul, Gideon Langston. She resides in New York City, New York, with her father and stepmother. Aside from the generic blurb about her, there doesn’t seem to be any other information out there. This is statistically impossible for a woman of her age. In these instances, it’s because the information has been purposefully scrubbed from the web. The reason for this could be for witness protection or due to classified orders from the government. Would you like me to research the other matches?”
Romy Langston.
I close my eyes, desperately trying to piece together my past with this mysterious, beautiful woman.
Nothing.
My brain is drawing infuriating blanks, but my heart throbs painfully in my chest, telling me all I need to know.
I do love Romy.
I have to find her.