CHAPTER 3

“Where am I?”

The first three words heard over the air inside the Presidential Suite of The Southshore Hospital.

A woman opened her eyes slowly and adjusted to the dimly lit surroundings. She tried sitting up but felt her body battered and bruised. She turned to her right and found herself looking at the glass wall, noticing a bandage wrapped around her head.

“Hello?” She called out weakly. She touched her head gently. “Is somebody there?”

She covered her face when she saw a silhouette stood up and walked to turned on the lights. Closing her eyes to prevent the glare from hurting her sight, she heard the person inside the room approached her bedside.

“Are you alright, Miss?”

After a few minutes, she finally opened her eyes and looked at the man with a pair of dark brown eyes behind some frameless glasses, perched on his hose. He was looking at her intently, concern oblivious on his kind face.

“Where am I?”

“You’re in one of the rooms of The Southshore Hospital,” the man answered calmly. He reached out at her bedside and was about to press the call button when the woman prevented him. “I’m going to call the doctor to check on you. You’ve been unconscious for three days.”

The woman was shaking her head.

“What happened?” She demanded weakly. “Why am I in the hospital? Who are you?”

“I am working for the man who brought you here,” the man responded patiently. “Please don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Thomas Jamison and I had been watching over you since bringing you here from the Raydale Sea’s open waters,” he introduced himself formally. He looked down at her kindly. “May I know who you are? If my employer wasn’t with me and my companions, we could have a hard time admitting you. You carried no identification with you, or it got lost in the waters. Tell me your name.”

“My name?” She questioned skeptically. “My name is…”

The woman stopped when she couldn’t think of her name. Her eyes widened and suddenly filled with tears, looking at the man in front of her.

“I-I don’t know what my name is!” She suddenly cried desperately.

Thomas looked down at her intently.

“Do you remember what happened to you?”

Shaking her head frantically, she started to sit up and was surprised at the IV on her hand and several machines beeping beside her bed.

“Why am I here?” She exclaimed desperately. She started removing the tubes on her and Thomas had to hold her down firmly, finally reaching for the call button. “Please! Please help me! I don’t remember! Don’t hurt me!”

The more Thomas is holding her, the more she became hysterical. By the time the doctors and nurses had arrived in the room, Thomas was already shouting for them to administer some sedative to calm her down.

“Mr. St. Claire,” Thomas said over the phone when the woman finally succumbed to the sedative. “She woke up but became hysterical. I had the doctor gave her some sedative.”

“Why did she become hysterical, Thomas?”

Thomas looked back at the woman lying on the bed while the nurses neatly arranged the machine on her bedside and tucking the blanket over her.

“She became hysterical because she cannot remember her name, Mr. St. Claire,” Thomas finally relayed seriously. “The truth is, she cannot remember what happened to her. She seems to have lost her memory, sir.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

When the woman had opened her eyes again and turned to her side, she found herself staring into the face of a dark brown-haired man with piercing blue eyes, who is looking down at her intently. The man seemed to radiate an air of aristocracy when their gaze had finally met, and she noticed his mouth formed into a tight line as he cleared his throat.

“Hello. My name is Grayson St. Claire,” he introduced himself to her gently. He raised one hand to prevent her from speaking. “I know about your dilemma and I’m here to tell you whatever information that I had my men gathered for the past few days while you’re recuperating here. I will help you sit up.”

The woman accepted a sheet of paper from him and looked down at the picture of a woman who resembles her face. Below her picture is a name indicated.

Rachel Hamilton.

“Is this my name?” She asked softly. “My name is Rachel Hamilton?”

“From what my investigator had gathered, yes. That is your name,” Grayson answered seriously. He handed her another sheet, this time a newspaper clipping. “And this is you several weeks ago. That’s you and Jordan Cunningham, announcing your engagement at a press conference in one of his family’s hotels.”

“I’m engaged?” She stated in shock. “I’m engaged to him?”

“And this what happened to you a few days ago,” Grayson continued patiently, this time placing an Ipad on her lap. He pressed play and leaned back on his chair, observing her as she picked up the gadget and watched the news on the screen. “You were in an accident on your way to your wedding.”

“On her way to what supposed to be her fairy tale wedding to hotel, billionaire, Jordan Cunningham, an accident befalls on our city’s very own Cinderella, waitress Rachel Hamilton,” the male news anchor announced seriously. The screen then showed to the search that was being done in the dark sea waters. “As of this time, there is still no update that the body of the bride has been found. Over an hour ago, the body of the Rolls Royce vehicle driven by her bodyguard has been found and we are unfortunate to announce of his passing.”

“However, witnesses had revealed that on their way to St. John’s Cathedral, what seemed to be a gang on motorbikes had ambushed them and started shooting at the vehicle,” the anchor continued. “Investigators on the case refused to give out information but our reliable sources told us that Rachel Hamilton has been allegedly murdered.”

Rachel dropped the tablet on her lap, her face filled with shock. She looked at Grayson when he took the Ipad from her lap and handed it to Thomas, who appeared behind him. He nodded at Thomas before the other man left the room after handing a folder from him.

“I spoke with your doctor,” Grayson finally started patiently. “He told me that with the accident that happened, you have suffered a traumatic injury to your brain, causing you to have severe retrograde amnesia. You cannot remember everything from your past.”

“How long will this last?” She asked desperately. “Do I have a family that I can go to? Who are they? Will they know me?”

Grayson stared at her silently before opening the folder, which contained files about her.

“Your parents were Christopher and Natasha Hamilton. Both dead already but before your father died, he remarried Jenna Ferguson, who has a son and daughter from her previous marriage a year after your mother died from cancer,” he laid out gently, putting photos on her lap. “When your father died, they took all your inheritance including the restaurant that both of your parents had run and worked hard for years. You were relegated as a waitress, doing all the hard work for them. That is why you were called Cinderella by the anchor of the news you saw. Most of the public were looking forward to the start of your beautiful life with Cunningham.”

“H-How did I meet my fiancée?” She asked.

“Your restaurant was one of the caterers hired by his family for an event celebrating the patriarch’s 75^th birthday at their mansion,” he answered. “Your stepfamily wanted to get rid of you and your stepsister drugged the drink she gave you that will make you a prey to men at the party. To your fortune, or I may say at that time, your misfortune, Jordan Cunningham, known playboy and womanizer, was the man you managed to seduce that night. However, the following day, his grandfather found both of you in his bed. Being the traditional man that William Cunningham is, he saw it as an opportunity of tying his grandson down, ensure the family of its future heir.”

“That man hated me?” She asked.

“I don’t know what happened during the next months that you, two were together,” Grayson answered. “But I guess both of you fell in love and he proposed marriage. And with that, you manage to gather yourself more than enough enemies in your life, which I’m suspecting that one of them set out to kill you.”