Replication

Chapter Three: Dylan

((hello everyone, hope you all are enjoying this book so far!!! just so you all know, the next chapter will go back to Tessa's POV!))

Holy shit.

My parents are loaded.

I stand in the long driveway, ogling at the enormous mansion before my eyes.

"I...I live here?" I ask, my mouth gaping in awe.

"Yes you do Dylan. Do you like it?" my mother asks.

"I fucking love it!" I shout, throwing my arms up in the air.

"Watch your language Dylan," my father says, raising his eyebrows.

"Err sorry, I fudging love it!" I exclaim hastily.

"That's better," my father replies, chortling.

We begin walk towards the grand, gold front door. Once we arrive at it, my father pulls out a key and unlocks it, twisting the knob. The door slowly swings open to reveal a huge, high-ceilinged foyer. An elegant double staircase curves up to the landing a floor above, and a grand, glass chandelier twinkles from the ceiling.

Damn, my house is fancy.

"Holy sh..., I mean sugar," I murmur under my breath.

This no swearing-rule is going to be hard for me to follow.

We walk through the foyer and into the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, the kitchen is enormous as well, with dark, cherrywood cabinets and a refrigerator so large that it could probably fit a family inside of it.

"Even though you don't remember anything, we're just so glad you're home safe and sound," my mother says, smiling at me with tears in her eyes.

"Me too," I reply, grinning back.

Suddenly, the house phone rings, causing me to jump at its loud, blaring ringtone.

"I'll get that," my mother says, rushing over to the phone.

She picks it up.

"Hello? Yes, this is her."

A pause, then my mother angrily exclaims,

"You really think that Dylan is coming into work? Are you insane?! He just got rescued, and you expect him to come in for his shift?!"

"Wait, what? I have a job?" I ask, completely confused.

My mother glances up at me, then says into the phone,

"Hold on one moment."

She then puts the phone down and sighs.

"Yes Dylan, you have a job. Usually, you would work everyday, but since you just got home after being kidnapped for weeks, I didn't think you would be up to go in."

"I'm up for it, I feel fine. Um, what's my job?" I ask.

"You're a pizza delivery boy," my mother replies.

I grin.

"Yeah, I'm definitely up to do that," I say.

"Are you sure? Because you don't have to work tonight; it's your first night home again," my mother says, a concerned expression on her face.

"I'm positive," I say, giving her my most convincing smile.

"Alright then," she says warily.

She puts the phone back up to her ear.

"Change of plans, Dylan can actually come in tonight. He'll be there as soon as possible."

After she hangs up, she asks me,