2025-07-22 23:34:05
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The sun was barely up when Arthur packed a bag and left the compound.He didn’t say a word to Diego. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Not yet.There was no plan, just a pull in his chest that refused to loosen. The boy from yesterday, the strange stares, the woman’s laugh—it had cracked something open. He couldn’t pretend anymore. Something was missing. And if no one was going to give him answers, then he would find them himself.He’d seen the notice on a worn-out bulletin board two towns over. Now Hiring: Callahan Mansion. In need of full-time domestic help. ID Required. It was simple enough. A name, a few lies, and he could walk right into the home that tugged at something deep inside him. He didn’t know why, but it felt like the answers were there. Something was waiting for him inside that house.Maybe someone.Maybe himself.****Later That Day Callahan MansionThe Callahan estate was alive with quiet movement. Diana had resumed working part-time at the hospital, and Jasper had grown into a st
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Morning came too quickly.Arthur sat at the edge of his bed, staring out the window at the dew-covered fields. Birds chirped in the distance, the sun barely above the horizon. It should’ve been peaceful—but inside him, everything felt restless.He couldn’t stop thinking about yesterday. About that woman’s laugh. The man’s eyes. The kid’s smile. All of it kept looping in his head like a song he couldn’t get rid of. He barely slept.There was no reason for it to bother him so much. No logical explanation for why complete strangers had made his chest tighten like that. He told himself it was just déjà vu, like Diego said. Just some scrambled memory flashing through his broken mind.But that didn’t make it go away.Downstairs, Diego was already in the kitchen, slicing fruit and making tea like he did every morning. When Arthur walked in, his uncle looked up with a small smile.“Didn’t hear you come down,” Diego said.“Didn’t sleep much,” Arthur replied, pulling out a chair and sitting at
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The sun was nearly gone, casting long shadows over the quiet compound. Arthur walked slowly toward the main house, his shoulders heavy, his face tense like something was stuck in his chest that he couldn’t quite shake off. He found his uncle in the study, a book open in his lap. Diego noticed the look on his nephew’s face immediately."You look like your thoughts are chewing you up," Diego said, closing the book. "Rough day?"Arthur let out a long sigh, brushing his hand over his forehead like he was trying to wipe the feeling off his skin. "The day itself was fine. I fixed the fence. The woman was happy with the work." He paused and looked at his bruised hands. "But something happened when I was leaving. I saw a woman, a man, and a little boy. Just standing there across the road."Diego raised an eyebrow. "And?""I don’t know what it was," Arthur said, frustration creeping into his voice. "I just… the woman’s laugh it felt like I’d heard it before. The man looked at me like he knew m
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Caleb, now known to the world as Arthur, worked with a quiet, methodical grace. His days were spent in the peaceful routine of manual labor. He was a handyman, a man who fixed what was broken with his hands and a simple, focused mind. He had no memory of boardrooms or market strategies, no recollection of the vast corporation he once commanded. His mind was a blank slate, and he was happy to fill it with the simple, tangible achievements of his new life. Today, he was fixing a broken fence for a woman who lived near one of Veredale's many green parks. The rhythmic scrape of sandpaper against wood and the satisfying thud of a hammer were the only things on his mind.He was so absorbed in his work that he didn't notice the small group approaching until they were almost right beside him. A young woman with an air of refined elegance, a sturdy man with a professional demeanor, and a little boy, no older than two, who was running ahead of them with a small, yellow ball
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Weeks bled into months, each day a slow, deliberate step in Caleb's arduous journey of recovery. Diego, ever present, oversaw every aspect of his nephew's rehabilitation. The physical wounds, though deep, healed steadily, leaving behind the smooth, unfamiliar contours of a face molded by necessity. But the mind was a more fragile landscape. Caleb, now nameless to himself, was a blank slate. Diego, Elena, and even little Sofia spoke to him patiently, teaching him the most basic things, helping him grasp the simplest concepts of his new world."This is a spoon," Elena would say gently, guiding his hand. "You use it to eat soup.""Soup," he'd repeat, his voice still a little rough, the word feeling alien on his tongue. He was like a child, learning everything anew. Diego meticulously crafted a new history for him, a carefully constructed life story that would withstand scrutiny. He was "Arthur," a man who had lost his family and his memory in a tragic, unrelated accident. They even creat
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The warehouse, a smoldering, skeletal ruin, was a chaotic scene of emergency vehicles and flashing lights. Firefighters doused the last embers, while forensics teams in white suits began their grim work, documenting the wreckage. Under the veil of this organized chaos, another, more discreet team operated. A sleek, unmarked black van was parked on a deserted side street, its occupants watching the scene through binoculars. Inside, a man sat calmly, his face illuminated by a tablet displaying a live feed of the fire. He had a strong, weathered face, silver threading through his dark hair, and eyes that held the weight of a hundred secrets. This was Diego Ruines, 48 years old, a man no one believed was alive. He was Fiona's brother, Caleb's uncle, a ghost in the world of the living."They've located him, boss," a man in the passenger seat said, his voice low and professional. "They're moving in now, posing as part of the private security detail. No one will notice a thing."Diego nodded
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