In My Deep Memory ( IN REWRITE )

XIV- Unraveling Threads

"You want to know everything, don't you? I'll do you this favor, but promise me to take it to your grave, okay? Everyone hates you, you know? And me, first and foremost. But I'm not the one who wants your death. It's actually someone from your family. MY FATHER! "

Arele flinched. His father? Who could it be? He did not give her much time to think.

" Patrick Wilbert, does that ring a bell? Well, you see, my dear father, your dear step-uncle, the one your dear aunt married, and the one who runs that company of yours, Artland, well, it's the same person who wants your death today. To him, you're a threat to his ambition, his achievement, his glory. You're the heir to a company he coveted so much. "

Arele was left speechless. She had regained all her clarity. She had always found this man suspicious. Initially, because he was an outsider who had entered their lives, but then because her aunt had too much trust in him. She had even sent him to boarding school because of him. What intrigued her the most was the fact that he had a son, and that son happened to be Axel, a former student of her boarding school. Unless he deliberately sent him there!

"I won't tell you more " said the young man as he left for good, as if he had read her thoughts.

Arele curled up on herself. If all of this was true, everything made sense. Wilbert had married her aunt shortly after his mother's death because he knew she would take over as guardian until she came of age. Given her mental and emotional vulnerability, manipulating her was easy. Throughout the years, the company faced numerous difficulties, which her aunt struggled to resolve.

However, they seemed to become increasingly burdensome, pushing it to the brink of bankruptcy and plunging the CEO into deep depression. A perfectly plausible excuse. Miguel had already passed away, even though she would never admit it, leaving only one obstacle to eliminate: her. What is now about to be fulfilled. Who knows if all these accidents were caused by none other than him? Why had not she listened to Michel?

She was furious at the whole world, unable to see who her true enemy was anymore. Unfortunately, she realized it all too late. Unless she managed to escape from there. Which is obviously unlikely. She had the desire, but not the strength. He had destroyed her, yet she could not bring herself to hate him anymore. Strange feelings, aren't they? You don't say!

She had glimpsed a shadow of regret in his gaze. Even though he did not want to, he was just a pawn that this man, his supposed father, used to achieve his goals. He had sown hatred in their little innocent hearts, leading them into the dark side of life. If only someone could get her out of there.

***

Michel struggled amidst the paperwork around him. A long month had passed, and Arele remained elusive. The leads remained vague and blurry. On her part, Fathim tried as best as she could to get closer to their suspect to gather more information. But after a month, she returned empty-handed.

Tired and desperate, the young woman decided to interrupt her work and go outside for some fresh air. The coolness of the night would surely help clear her mind. Walking without a specific direction, her steps brought her to a rather posh nightclub near a pastry factory. She hesitated to enter but did so anyway, not for pleasure, but rather by instinct.

"A tequila," she ordered before the bartender could ask her.

With her drink in hand, she looked around, hoping to find any clue. However, it was a foolish endeavor; what she was searching for would not be found here! Disappointed, she was about to leave when she bumped into someone, spilling her drink on his blouse.

"Ó, zhēn bàoqiàn, " she apologized in clumsy Chinese, panicking, her eyes fixed on the stain she had done, ràng wǒ bāng nǐ!" *(1)

She grabbed a napkin to wipe it off, but another man stopped her.

"Get your hand off there, Hàm kéih dī séi náh měi gwok yàn, góu dāk dān dān béi hēi dou !*(2) " he grumbled in English and then in a Chinese dialect she did not recognize.

Knowing where she was, she did not insist, but as she looked up, she faced her interlocutor and nearly stumbled backward. Those eyes, that gaze that never betrayed him, the one she could recognize among a thousand despite the years. That gaze that left her with the worst memories of harassment she had ever experienced during her school years.

Axel Kennedy! What was he doing here? In this bar? And especially in this country, accompanied by a - she eyed the other man - Chinese henchman? It had been too long for this to be just a coincidence. Fathim mentally scolded herself; this whole situation was playing tricks on her mind.

He recognized her too, Arele's little protege, with her gray eyes that brought out her tan skin, and strangely resembled his own. But he decided to ignore her and walked past without a word. Nevertheless, she stayed put. She called out to him, like two old friends reuniting, which made him come to a halt. He had hoped she would not recognize him like Arele, or at least mistake him for someone else.

But no! She had to have such a good memory. Still, he did not turn around and simply continued on his way.

"Hey! But..." she indignantly shouted, "that guy, he hasn't changed at all!" she cursed while shaking her head.

She was about to leave as well when a pendant on the ground caught her eye. She picked it up, and when she examined it, her heart nearly stopped. It was the pendant she had given her best friend to seal their friendship. What was it doing here? Right where Axel had just been? How did he get it? Unless he was involved. She hurried to follow him but couldn't catch up.

They had already left the parking lot. Luckily, she had memorized all the license plate numbers of the vehicles present - a professional habit - so she could trace their route without much trouble.

"Axel Kennedy! If you're the one behind all this, I swear you won't get away with it!" she promised and then walked away.

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(1): From the popular Chinese dialect that means  "Oh, my apologies, let me help you!"
("哦，真抱歉，让我帮你！")

(2): A Chinese dialect called Cantonese used by 4 to 5 percent of the population that means "Those damn Americans, always poking their noses everywhere."
(咸佢啲死撚美國人，攪得啲啖啖鼻喺度。)