*** featured in the list of the world's TOP 50 BEST WATTPAD STORIES OF 2018!
(https://www.designwizard.com/blog/best-wattpad-stories/)
WHO IS ALISON KING?
A gunfight occurs in the woods.
One woman emerges alive from the skirmish.
She has no memory...
I SURPRISED myself when I got a good night's sleep despite my troubled mind. Perhaps I was too exhausted, both mentally and physically, to think of anything else except hitting the sack. And it was a good thing too; I woke up feeling fresh. After getting out of my bed, I flung back the curtains and was greeted by sunshine the color of honeycomb-yellow streaming in through my window. It was a pleasant sunny morning and the cloud-free sky was bluer than blue.
After my morning ablutions, I went down to the cafe beside the lobby to feed my growling tummy. Entering through the glass door, I noticed that its interior, from the warm cappuccino aroma to the casual couches, had a Starbucks-kind of feel. However, unlike the American coffeehouse chain, this place was devoid of customers. So Sirius was telling the truth when he said I was their only guest.
I was served English breakfast – two fried eggs, toast, bacon, beans, and coffee – while I sat at a corner with glass-paneled walls. From here I had a perfect view of the world outside. Most of the buildings in this part of the town were over a century old. Traffic was sparse, and senior citizens, in flip-flops and T-shirts, were huddled together, either chitchatting or reading papers in shabby coffee shops along the street which also housed a Chinese clan association, an optical shop, a locksmith, and a hair dressing salon. I took a deep breath and let some air out slowly. The atmosphere here was so laid-back; I liked it. I wish I could trade my existing messy state of affairs for this type of nice, relaxed lifestyle.
"Happy morning, Miss King," a deep voice greeted me. "Slept well last night?"
It was Sirius. I was so engrossed with the sights that I didn't hear him approaching. I nearly couldn't recognize him too in his casual wear.
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"Likewise," I replied with a smile. "And yes, I slept like a log, thank you. Join me for breakfast?"
"Thanks, just taken mine. So, are you still planning to go to Ng Chan Villa today?"
I nodded.
Sirius chewed his lips. He seemed apprehensive ... or excited. I couldn't tell. He thought for a moment and said, "Then you'll need a local guide. That place is not easy to find."
"And who would be brave enough to take me there? Like you said, it's haunted."
"May I sit down?" he asked without answering my question.
"Be my guest."
He pulled a chair and sat opposite me. Following that, he took out his cellphone from his jeans pocket and while swiping his finger on its screen, he said, "You know, ever since you mentioned Ng Chan Villa last night, my fascination with its owner got the better of me so I Googled it. This is what came out from my search. It's quite an absorbing write-up. Here, have a look." He passed me his phone.
Intrigued, I scrolled through the contents:
Spencer Wang (1930 -1962) was an enigma.
He appeared suddenly in Ipoh right after World War II and in no time at all made a name for himself investing in stock markets and real estate. His worth increased tremendously, and was at one time conservatively estimated at $120 million dollars. He was said to be so rich and powerful that the British Resident (equivalent with today's Menteri Besar's post) and the Sultan of Perak were obliged to take advice from him in running the state.
