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

Vince Klein.

Chapter 5.

Vince Klein.

The day in school was such a headache for Elvis. His hands were bandaged, and so was his nose and face. He was closely looking like an Egyptian mummy and everyone he passed by wouldn't hold their laughs. Even Sammy kept laughing.

"Are you sure you're fit to go home with these bandages? Won't it irritate your family?" Sammy inquired from him.

"They're not my family. They're just my in-laws. I married their daughter, which right now I'm regretting, and then I get to live with them since I remember nothing about my previous life.''

Sammy's glance at him became different. He was pitying the guy. "Do they treat you badly?"

Elvis halted and stared at him unbelievably, then glanced at his hands before returning his gaze to Sammy, "Do you think I'll see a pile of clothes on the floor and begin to wash it if there is no force behind me, forcing me to do it?"

"You washed clothes?!" Sammy shouted, flinching his hands in the air, unintentionally calling student's attention to them.

"Now, I hate that I tell you," Elvis began to walk further toward the school's gate, "And please, drop that lame stare, I don't like it."

Sammy followed him. "I'm sorry, just astonished that anyone will wash a cloth in the Moore's mansion. I thought they don't wear clothes twice."

"Well, now you know. Shut up, now, and let's get a cab."

They got to the gate and waited for a cab. Soon, one was coming from afar, but before it could get to their side, two fully tainted-glasses buses stopped before them, and five hefty men in black suits stepped out and bundled them into one of the buses right there in broad daylight.

Even with Sammy and Elvis's cries for help, nobody dared to move closer to the men at work, for the car was familiar to everyone around. Klein.

Even though Bernard Klein didn't deal much with the country, everyone knew and feared the sound of his name, especially at a moment like this.

"They must have offended one of Klein's people." Someone said pitifully as the buses zoomed off.

Elvis woke up in a soft bed with a comfy duvet, and for minutes, he kept turning and refused to open his eyes.

"You must be comfortable on the bed." A voice sounding so frail said to Elvis. To Elvis, the voice sounded oddly familiar, and there was a longing which grew when he heard the voice. It was like that of someone very close to him. Someone he loved and missed.

But then, he remembered he was kidnapped and jolted up from the bed. "Let me go!"

He had shouted before he took in his environment. A spacious room painted in grey and ashes. Everything in the room dripped with both colours, and Elvis felt calm. When watching the colours, he was very pleased.

'I must like them.'

But then, his eyes locked with a man on a sofa closer to his bed. This man looked so familiar like Elvis had spent almost all his life with the man, but he knew he hadn't met him before.

"Who are you, and why am I here?"

The man's eyes dropped and rolled over the floor, "When they said you are without memory, I thought I would be excluded from that. I thought you'll remember me."

Elvis kept on staring at the man silently, not trying to remember his face or who he was.

Every time he tried to remember his past, his brain always malfunctioned, and even his present would be forgotten for some minutes, and then everything would come back.

It was the side effect of the experiment carried out on him. Instead of remembering what he forgot, he would forget what he remembers.

And after experiencing this like ten times, he stopped trying to remember anything.

The man, Bernard Klein, stood up to his feet and, with a walking stick, began to take slow steps closer to Elvis til he got to the mouth of the bed.

His lingering eyes on Elvis flickered with tears, his hand holding the stick shook, and his legs on the ground wobbled. "I am your father and you are my son.'' He said the words through tears and difficulties. "My son, Vince."

Elvis stared at the man as he cried and he crept out of the bed. He moved closer to Bernard and hugged him in a bit to console him, though, in his heart, he felt that the man was old and confused, so he thought of him as his son.

Poor man!

"It's okay, you shouldn't cry anymore, sir." Elvis consoled him, patting his back calmly.

"Oh, my son!" The man's cries echoed and he squeezed Elvis in his arms.

Elvis had his arms around him loosely, 'This man is going too far.' He thought, but he didn't want to look rude, so he allowed Bernard to cry on his shoulder to his fullest.

When Bernard had had enough, he pulled away and got a handkerchief to wipe his wet face.

"Are you okay now, sir?" Elvis questioned Bernard. He replied to him with a nod.

Bernard took slow steps back to the sofa and sat down before gesturing to Elvis to do the same, which he did, but with a meaningless space between them.

"You were going to a foreign meeting with your mother..." Bernard began but Elvis cut in.

"You know my mother?"

Bernard stared at him like he was insane, "Of course, she was my wife."

"Oh! Sorry."

So, Bernard continued, "Your car was attacked on the way and when we got there, we found your mother there in the car, breathing her last. She told me that you were taken away by the attackers and she died in my arms." He said the last part staring at his hands and remembering that dreadful day. The worst day of his life.

He dropped his hands. "I thought with my connection and everything, I would find you in no time, but even with everything, I couldn't locate you til Adams called to tell me you were found, and here you are."

"So, what you're trying to say is that I am your missing son."

"Yes, my Vince."

Elvis chortled and stood up to his feet in a go, "I think you're mistaking me for someone else, sir. Your son is out there, waiting for his daddy, and you should go and save him before it's too late. For me right here, my name is Elvis, and I'm sorry, but I'm not your son. Sorry for the misunderstanding, I better go."

He rushed his words like he was trying to run away from the truth.

Elvis turned toward to door to walk away, but Bernard stopped him with his words. "You have a birthmark on your lower abdomen. It's in the form of 'K', representing our family's name."

Elvis was not convinced, but he had to prove this old man wrong, so he slowly took his gaze towards his lower abdomen by the side, lifted his shirt, and lowered his pants with a ceased breath. When he looked at it, it was plain, "Ah, ah!"

He turned to Bernard and showed it to him, "Now, you can let me go."

"It's on the other side."

He opened the other side and checked it, and there stood proudly a gigantic mark.

"What can you say then?" Bernard asked Elvis whose lips were parted in ultimate astonishment.

"I haven't noticed that whenever I bathe. Are you sure you didn't tattoo this on me when I was sleeping?"

"Do you feel any stings from it?"

Elvis shook his head.

"There, you have your answer then."

Bernard stood up and walked out of the door. Elvis followed him like a stray dog.

"This place is my house in this city. When I heard that you're here, I immediately jumped on my flight down here."

Elvis said nothing. He had a lot to say, but he had been given a masquerade slap with that single mark below his abdomen tormenting him.

Bernard got to the sitting room and sat down on a sofa, he gestured for Elvis to sit down, which he did. Then, like that, a group of people began to troop out of the corners of the mansion to the sitting room, including Mrs Adams. She was all smiles.

"What are you doing here, Mrs Adams?" Elvis questioned.

"I work here, young master." She bowed.

Elvis stared weirdly at her and she chuckled. Elvis remembered Sammy at that.

"What of Sammy?"

"He's okay, he's sleeping in a room upstairs."

Bernard cleared his throat, putting a pause to the conversation, "I called you all here to behold my son who had been missing for months. It was all thanks to Adams who found him."

"You're welcome, young master." They all bowed to Elvis who cringed.

"I don't think this is necessary, I'm not even fully convinced." He whispered to Bernard.

"What's there to prove again, son? I've shown everything to you that you, my son, are my son."

Elvis stood up at that. "I don't think I'm ready for that, I should go back home."

"But your home is not here, you should return with me to Venice."

"No, sir. That Venice must be your home, but my home is here, and I better leave."

Bernard realised that he couldn't stop him, neither could he force him to do anything just yet, so he sighed, "My driver will drop you off."

"I'd rather trek."

"Trek!" Everyone gasped, "The young master shouldn't trek."

Bernard frowned, "Does Moore make you trek or do labour?"

"Is that not a personal question, sir?"

"Vince...."

"Elvis, my name is Elvis."

Bernard calmed down and said calmly, "That's not the name your mother and I gave to you."

"But that's the name I answer right now."

"Fine!" Bernard relented and stood up. He went to Elvis and hugged him again, not minding that the guy didn't return his embrace, "I'm just glad you're alive, and since you're alive, you can change your mind at any time."

He disengaged from him, "Go back, but remember, my guards will be around you at every time, if you need their intervention, just call them, but if you don't, they won't interfere in your business."

Elvis nodded. He loved that idea better.

"Thank you, you'll leave then."

"Here," Bernard stretched a card to him, "Don't worry, it's just a token of a billion dollars in it. Just go about with it for any emergency."

Elvis collected the card, paying no mind to what the man said, and then he left Klein's mansion.

When he got home, he met a maid waiting for him by the door. "Hey, Mrs Moore is waiting for you."

"Which of them?" There were three 'Mrs Moore' that Elvis knew, and he couldn't guess who it was that was calling him, though hopefully, he wished it was not Ophar Moore.

"Follow me." The maid began to walk away, not answering his question.

They climbed the stairs to an area in the mansion. The place looked exactly like a different mansion of its own. It was painted differently in purple and white, unlike the mansion's natural colour, which was milk colour and white.

They walked further til they got to a door. The maid knocked once before turning to Elvis, "Go inside." Then she walked away.

Elvis wasted no time before opening the door.

If he had known what was coming his way, he would have taken enough time before stepping into the room, but little did he know.

Inside the room was a fuming Brie, she was combusting, and the room had been turned upside down with her rage. Still, she was not calm.

"Hi, you requested my presence." Elvis made his presence known when he got closer to her after succeeding in the escape from the broken glasses on the floor.

Brie turned and matched over to him, she raised her hand and dropped a resounding slap on his face, 'Tar!'

It echoed so much that at first, Elvis did not feel the pain, just the deafening sound like that of a bomb. Then boom! The sting hit Elvis, forcing tears out of his eyes.

"You made me lose my contract with the Chinese man! You damn man!"