From Dust To Dynasty

5

When Caleb finally reached the familiar quiet of his apartment, the lingering echoes of yesterday's chaos still resonated within him. He dropped his toolbox with a thud beside his sofa chair and sank onto its edge, the events of the previous night playing out in his mind. He'd thought he’d finally purged Cathy from his thoughts, but the unexpected jolt of Diana's presence had brought it all rushing back. Oddly, the throbbing pain from the bouncer's assault had subsided, a strange calm settling over him—perhaps a lingering effect of whatever the mysterious woman had done.

 "That mysterious woman," he mused, a soft smile, almost imperceptible on his bruised lips, forming as he instinctively touched his cheek. "Very mysterious indeed."

 He pushed himself up, intending to head for the washroom.

 He carried her silk rope to the washroom, dropping it near where he intended to hand-wash his clothes. After a quick bath, he emerged, toweling off before beginning his usual ritual of washing his clothes by hand, a practice he’d maintained because he couldn't afford a machine even when Cathy was around, even for her garments.

 Later that afternoon, Caleb carefully folded the silk rope and placed it into a gift box. He pulled out the card Diana had given him, his thumb hovering over the numbers. He hesitated. "It's too early. I'll just wait." He began to pace, his fingers instinctively closing around the golden pendant necklace that lay against his skin. It was the only tangible link to his birth mother, a gift from his adopted mother, Ms. Laura. Ms. Laura, now 72 and battling dementia in a nursing home abroad, occasionally had moments of clarity where she’d ask for him, leading to their infrequent calls. "I miss you, Amma," he whispered, a wave of tenderness washing over him.

 Unable to settle, he grabbed the box and headed out. He knew exactly where he was going: the dry cleaners where he’d once worked part-time. He'd already hand-washed the rope, but he wanted it presented impeccably.

 "Sup, Clara," he greeted the familiar face behind the counter. "Can you help me package this properly and spray something feminine on it?" He handed her the gift box, originally a birthday present for Cathy, complete with a stuffed animal.

 "Hmm," Clara hummed, taking the box and carefully extracting the rope. Her eyebrows shot up. "Where did you get this from? Can you sell it to me?"

 Caleb blinked, bewildered. "What do you mean, 'sell it'?"

 "This is a designer brand," she explained, her voice hushed with awe. "Only three pieces of this rope were ever made, and guess what? It costs a million dollars."

 Caleb stared at her, dumbfounded. "A million dollars? Just for a rope?" He couldn’t quite believe it.

 "My client sent me to dry clean this for her," he quickly improvised, trying to maintain a facade of nonchalance.

 "Can I at least take a picture with it, holding it?" she pleaded, her eyes sparkling.

 "No," Caleb replied firmly. Once she was finished, he took the rope back, holding it with an almost reverent caution. If it truly cost that much, he couldn't risk damaging it. His mind raced. He had to return it immediately. The thought of holding something worth more than his entire existence made him uneasy. He pulled out Diana's card. "REED MEDICAL CENTRE," it read.

 He made his way to the hospital, a growing sense of disbelief settling in. "So this is real," he thought, scanning the imposing facade of the medical center. He’d half-expected a scam, a fake card, but the sheer scale of the building confirmed its legitimacy. "That means this, too, is real." The idea of selling the rope, of a life-altering sum of money, flickered in his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. It wasn't who he was. A fleeting, bitter thought of Cathy crossed his mind – Perhaps giving this to Cathy would finally make her see my worth. He instantly bristled at the idea, spitting on the pavement in disgust.

 At the reception desk, he explained his presence, stating he was there for a follow-up on an injury. The nurse initially refused him entry, but his insistence, coupled with the sight of the gift box and the card, finally swayed her. He'd been on the verge of humiliation.

 The nurse dialed an internal number. "Ms. Reed, there's someone here who says you gave him your card and told him to come for treatment."

 "Who?" Diana's voice came through the receiver, followed by, "What's his name?"

 "Caleb," the nurse replied. "He says he has something that belongs to you."

 Diana cleared her throat. "Okay, send him in."

 "Follow me," the nurse gestured, leading him down a pristine corridor to Dr. Reed’s office. After a brief, polite farewell, she left, and Caleb entered. "I'm sorry for bothering you," he mumbled.

 Diana rose from her seat, gesturing for him to sit. "How are you doing?" she asked, without waiting for an answer, she took a small torch, her gaze intently examining his eyes and then the rest of him. "You're good. No need to be sorry. I've actually been trying to reach you."

 "I didn't come here to get checked up; I'm fine," Caleb interjected, holding out the box. "I came to return this to you."

 Diana took the box, peering inside. "Oh, this?" she said dismissively, dropping the box to the side. "Throw this away. I don't use my rope twice." Caleb wanted to ask about his own shirt, but the thought of his work clothes, soiled and undoubtedly still at the suite, made him blush with embarrassment.

 "You said you were trying to reach me?" Caleb asked, his gaze settling on her name tag: "Ms. D. Reed."

 "Oh, my apologies," she said, extending a hand. "I'm Diana Reed. And you?" Their hands met in a firm shake. "It felt as if we've known each other for long."

 "Caleb Smith," he replied shyly. "Yeah. So..."

 "I needed your help," she finally admitted.

 "Help?" Caleb echoed, confusion creasing his brow.

 "The thing is, I told my father you were my boyfriend to escape getting married to the person he wants me to marry." He knew arranged marriages were common among the wealthy. "Why?" he asked.

 "He..." Diana cleared her throat. "Remember Michael, the one I was hiding you from? He has a photo of you, and my father saw it. He asked my brother Michael to do his findings on you."

 Caleb was completely lost. "So...?"

 "He gave me a month to bring you, or else he'll marry me off to the one he wants."

 Caleb's face contorted into a mixture of surprise and alarm. He looked utterly flabbergasted.

 "So what do you want me to do now?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

 "Please, I'll call you after I close from work today," Diana pleaded. "Can you please come with me to an urgent appointment? My father and the family he wants me to marry are holding a meeting today, and I want us to crash it."

 Crash what? Caleb thought, dumbfounded.

 "I am so sorry, I can't do that," he rejected, shaking his head.

 "I'll pay you. I'll sponsor your outfit. I heard you take all forms of part-time jobs?" Diana pressed, her voice laced with desperation.

 Caleb felt a hot flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. So, she'd already researched him. He pushed himself up. "I'll excuse myself."

 As he turned to leave, Diana rushed to block the door, her hand pressing against it. "Please, do this for me. As a payback for treating you, please."

 "Leave the way," Caleb urged, gesturing for her to move.

 "I will help you find your family," Diana dropped the bombshell.

 Caleb froze, his jaw slack. How could she possibly know about his lifelong search for his identity? How did she know about that? A surge of anger coursed through him, and before he knew it, his hands were gripping her neck, not with violence, but with a desperate need for answers. "You! What else do you know about me?" he demanded, his voice low and guttural.

 "Please," Diana choked, struggling for breath, "let go. I can't breathe."

 "I got your file from my brother's office," she rasped, her eyes wide with fear. "And I had to use my medical skills to research you. That's how I found out you've been doing this yearly to find your missing family. Please, do this for me. I can help you."

 Caleb slowly released his grip, his mind reeling. "How can I trust you?"

 She reached for his simple button phone, quickly typing her number and saving it as "Debtor." "This is my personal line. I work here, which means there's no way I can run."

 "Fine," Caleb finally agreed, a reluctant sigh esca

ping his lips. A triumphant smile lit up Diana's face.

 "Let's go crash your engagement party."