I Know Who I Am, Father-in-law.

Chapter 1.

Elvis.

In a private hospital owned by the overly wealthy Moore family in the outskirts of NYC, a group of people were standing before a transparent slide door which led to a ward where a man was lying lifelessly on the bed, looking pale and skinny.

"How many days more should we wait before he gets his butt out of that sick bed?" A man in a navy blue suit questioned another, who was dressed in a white lab wear over his white shirt.

The man in the white lab wear was a doctor, and the man questioning him was no other than Jordan Moore, the 5th most wealthy man in the world and the first in NYC.

He was a fair-looking gentleman on the surface, and everyone in the country, and even without, loved him. Though, deeply in this man's heart, he was nothing like he had portrayed himself to be to the world.

He was wealthy, and he knew how to use his wealth just right.

The Doctor, who Jordan Moore was questioning, smiled gently at him, "Very soon, Master. Sooner than you're thinking."

"You don't say that to me, Gregory. The soon in my mind is right now, this hour, this minute, this second, or maybe a second ago." He spoke calmly.

Dr Gregory opened his mouth to answer to him but stopped when his eyes caught with the man on the bed. "He moved!" He exclaimed instead.

They wasted no more time. The doctor and nurses rushed into the ward with Jordan, walking sluggishly with his hands in his pockets gentlemanly.

True to Gregory's words, the man on the bed did move.

"What's his status?" Jordan questioned Gregory and his eyes consciously slipped to stare at the diamond wristwatch around his wrist as his leg stomped the floor impatiently. "If not that I have to witness this, I wouldn't have been here." He stated further.

Gregory quickly got to work with his stethoscope and in seconds, he stared at Jordan with a laughing face, "He's stable. The experiment is a success."

"You shouldn't jubilate yet, he has to wake up and answer the questions." With those words said, Jordan walked out of the ward without looking back.

Gregory couldn't hold his smile, he grinned from ear to ear with his heart filled with jubilee.

This hospital here was a wide space with each of its edges having its foundation to its roofing on billions. It was established by Jordan Moore, and strangely, for two years that the hospital had been established, they had only been admitting one patient at a time.

And this man on the bed was their 8th patient in two years.

The name 'hospital' was just a disguise for what was happening within that space. It was more or less like a lab for experiments. They experimented with their new drugs on patients in the name of treatment, and for years, the experiments have always been successful, but none of the patients who left the hospital was seen among people in the street.

It was as though they never really lived, and people forgot about them in no time, and Jordan Moore was never questioned about that. Nobody could even see him to question him, he spends his money well.

And even with that, everyone would eagerly wait in the queue to be chosen by Jordan Moore to be treated in his hospital, even the healthy ones.

They would joyfully pay millions to get a treatment card from the hospital, while Jordan Moore would randomly pick a number of the 'lucky' or rather the 'unlucky' ones to begin his new experiment.

But this latest patient's case was different. He was brought into the hospital five months ago and had been unconscious about everything happening.

Also, Jordan didn't choose him by the number, he fished him out like a predator does to its prey.

"Let's leave him to rest til tomorrow."

The next day, Jordan got to the hospital and was just in time to meet the doctors questioning the patient.

He was impatient. He stomped over to them, "He's coming home with me today."

Gregory's head snapped towards him, not hiding his shock, "Excuse me, master, I was not following."

Jordan clenched his jaw and spoke between clenched teeth, picking his words slowly, yet dangerously, "He is following me to the mansion today. I'm not requesting that from you, I'm telling you about it, which I know is not necessary."

"But, Master, we have not even tasted his brain and mentality. He seems to be without any memory of his past."

"That's a good thing." Jordan calmed and faced the man on the bed who had his eyes glued on Jordan, wondering who he was, "Your name is Elvis, you live in my mansion, and you're my daughter's fiance, my son-in-law."

Gregory jolted at that. It was as if a sledgehammer was used on his head, "What, master? This man is not your..."

"Shut up like you always do, Gregory, or your sorry butt will be fired."

Gregory kept shut with a lump forming in his throat. He knew what it meant for Jordan Moore to be against someone, and he was not ready for drama. He had a young girl whom he loved so much, and he couldn't risk anything for his daughter's sake.

He had to step back and silently watch Jordan fill the patient's head with lies.

"...You fell in the hall during your wedding with my daughter which was months ago, but thank goodness, you're well now."

The man said nothing, only staring strangely at the young old man speaking to him, his father-in-law.

Though he just woke up from a long sleep, he was not feeling it. All he was feeling was like he woke to the world from a nap after hard drugs since his bones were so strong that if he stood, he could carry five large bricks without feeling anything.

All thanks to the drugs he was given.

"Now get up and complete your marriage vows with my daughter."

The man, whose given name was Elvis, watched his father-in-law strangely as he demonstrated his urgency, like if his daughter didn't get married that day, then she would remain single forever, or worse, die.

Elvis said nothing but did as he was told. Besides, he was not feeling weird about the man before him, so there was a tendency for him to speak nothing but the truth.

A change of clothing was given to him. For seconds, he stood to stare at the clothes, contemplating whether to comply with wearing them or not.

The clothes looked new and expensive, but they were ripped, and a side of it looked differently dirty, like when something was intentionally dipped into the mud for a muddy transformation.

"Wear it, it is from your wardrobe and mind you, these clothes used to be your favourite clothes," Jordan told Elvis.

"T.... That is a lie. I... I will.... will..."

He was struggling to form words from his lungs, but it was difficult. His throat had been left unused for months, so using it now was stressful and painful.

He meant to tell Jordan that he had not worn something like that before, but he couldn't. His head was screaming out the words, but sadly, his mouth was sealed.

Jordan was vexed that he was called a liar by Elvis, but he said nothing about it, he had to keep his cool for himself to be fulfilled.

"Don't stress yourself, son, you can't just remember it." Jordan persuaded Elvis sweetly that he was convinced, and he wore the clothes.

Like that, looking all tattered, rough and out, Elvis followed Jordan to wed his daughter.

He was not even allowed a shower!

Throughout the wedding in court and the vows made, Elvis was uncomfortable, though nobody seemed to mind what he was putting on. It must have been a planned work, not in a week, but maybe for months, 'cause everything seemed perfect with no leash.

The only unusual thing there was that everyone used a strong covering for their nostrils like there was COVID-19 return.

He was smelling!

Elvis knew that within himself, he couldn't even breathe properly, for the odour from him oozed out so much.

Elvis held it never against them, he felt he would have done the same if he was in their shoes.

He was smelling rotten and he endured it!

What was even oozing out odour more in him? The clothes or his overgrown body?

He was like a pig amidst the white sheep. He was disgusted. He was irritated by himself and tried every isolation to keep his shame.

The wedding was no drama until they stepped out of the court to behold a multitude surrounding the whole place.

He marvelled, 'All these people came to witness me wed? I must be popular.' He thought, having no understanding that the people were there for Jordan Moore, his father-in-law, and they were there for him as well, to humiliate him.

Jordan, tightly secured by his hefty and mean-looking men, stepped out to address the people. "I am a humble man, and I just proved that by allowing my daughter to marry this poor man here." He pointed towards Elvis and all eyes followed his gesture.

That was when Elvis, a smart guy, began to understand what was happening, though very confused.

The eyes on him were just too much. It almost felt as if he killed someone, whereas, he didn't, or maybe he did. How could he tell? He was without his memory.

In the view of the people, Jordan Moore made a mistake. Why pick someone so poor with those dirty beards and bushy hair? His clothes, why too tattered? Isn't today supposed to be an honour for him to even stand before Jordan Moore?

They had a lot of questions, but with Jordan's expressions, they doubted that he would have time to answer one.

"Now, I want you all to know that this man is the latest of my patients, and he is without a memory, which is a temporary thing. I have volunteered to take care of him like my son before and after his total healing."

There arose an uproar immediately. Everyone's respect for him renewed, and the eyes on Elvis were renewed as well to pitiful gazes, a gaze which he picked as his most hated at that moment.

Everything seemed fine after that, and Elvis was taken home into Moore's billion-dollar mansion.

The sight of the building from outside cleared all resentment in Elvis, and he had in his mind that he was in the exact place he was supposed to be.

He had no idea that a dreadful place was there in the mansion for just him to stay.

The attic.

It was built like a tunnel and Elvis couldn't believe his eyes when he saw rats running around the place. He squeaked out his lungs and made to run but was restricted. The door had been locked behind him.

"Hey! Open up! I can't stay here. Please!" He forced the words out pleadingly, banging the door nonstop, but no one answered him. He kept on jumping frightfully.

The rats ran all over him like he was imposing on their territory, and yes, he was. They were the occupants of the space before he came.

Elvis was forgotten in the tunnel for days, and none of the Moores remembered him, not even his supposed wife, who was only persuaded to marry him. She did not know that she was married, the images were erased from her memory.

When it was exactly three days, the door to the tunnel opened and Elvis was pulled out of the space, unconscious.

"Is he dead?" Jordan Moore questioned his men who carried Elvis out.

"No, master, he's breathing."

"Call Gregory over then."

Gregory arrived in no time and he took up his job to administer Elvis. When he was done, he turned to Jordan, "He passed out of starvation. If you want him to live, master, feed him and let him out of the house sometimes."

Jordan ignored Gregory. He had his hands inside his pants pockets, and his gaze, which was so stony, was fixed on Elvis. 'I hate this guy, why not just die?' He thought hatefully.

"Do you understand what I said, master?" Gregory questioned Jordan.

"Just do your job and leave til I call you again." He raised his voice on Gregory.

Gregory stared at Elvis with a sorrowful heart before turning around and walking away from the room. His reasoning was ringing between betraying Jordan or silently watching him doing his deeds.