Kingsman's Return

Who Am I?

"Wow, you really didn't know." Lucy rolled her eyes. "My cousin told me yesterday. You two are done. She's with Marcus now. Marcus Sterling. He just bought her a BMW yesterday."

Adam felt his head buzz.

Divorce? Grace was divorcing him? She had never said a word to him about it.

"You're lying." Adam's voice trembled slightly.

"Lying? Go check the house yourself if you don't believe me." Lucy snorted. "My aunt is probably packing up your things right now. What can you even do besides having some brute strength? Pull rickshaws? Carry bricks? My cousin was cursed for marrying you in the first place."

Adam didn't answer. He turned around mechanically and pulled the rickshaw forward, his mind in chaos.

He thought she loved him. He thought that after three years of sacrifice, she would finally give him her heart.

But he was wrong.

Forty minutes later, Adam abandoned the rickshaw and rushed up to the third floor of that old apartment building on Wilshire Boulevard.

The door was unlocked.

Dolores Miller—his mother-in-law—was sitting on the sofa, legs crossed, holding a glass of red wine. On the coffee table in front of her was a document. Next to it sat a large black garbage bag.

"Back?" Dolores took a sip of wine, not even bothering to lift her eyelids. "Lucy called and told me you're pulling rickshaws on the street. How embarrassing."

Adam panted heavily: "Grace wants to divorce me?"

"Oh, you still didn't know?" Dolores put down her glass, her eyes full of disgust. "Sign it. The agreement on the coffee table."

Adam walked over and picked up the document.

Divorce Agreement, between Grace Miller and Adam Walker. Leaving with nothing.

"Why?" Adam's voice was hoarse. "Haven't I been good to you? I gave you every cent I earned—"

"What good was your pittance of money?" Dolores sneered. "In three years, you didn't even earn enough to buy a decent bag. Do you know what the first gift Marcus gave me was? A limited edition Hermès. Fifteen thousand dollars. And you?"

She stood up: "You can't give us the life we want. Grace deserves someone better."

Adam's hands were shaking.

Three years ago, he had lost his memory. He couldn't remember who he was, what he had done, or whether he had a family. When he woke up in a hospital bed, there was only one person beside him—old Thomas Miller.

Thomas Sr. had saved his life. When he was at his most helpless, he gave him a home.

With Thomas Sr.'s arrangement, Adam married the old man's daughter, Grace. The wedding was very simple—just a few witnesses. Grace wore a white dress and stood beside him, smiling at him.

That was the best day of his memory.

He thought it was the beginning of happiness.

He loved Grace. For three years, he gave every cent of his wages to the family and skimped on himself, just to give them a slightly better life. He thought Grace loved him too—the way he loved her.

But in the end, it meant nothing.

"Where's Grace?" he asked.

"Out with Marcus," Dolores said. "Sign it and leave. Oh, and that T-shirt you're wearing? Our family bought that too. Take it off."

Adam picked up the pen and signed his name.

He took off the T-shirt and placed it on the shoe cabinet, then carried the garbage bag on his shoulder and walked down the stairs.

He didn't look back.

Downstairs, on the street.

Adam stood by the roadside, shirtless, the black garbage bag clutched in his hand.

Three years. He had lived under blame and accusations for three years for the sake of a promise. He thought he had Grace. He thought this family was worth everything he gave.

But in the end, he had nothing.

His phone rang.

He looked at the caller ID—an unfamiliar number. He answered.

"Mr. Walker? I'm Sarah Jenkins." A woman's voice came through the phone. "Please don't hang up. I know you don't believe me, but please give me a chance to prove it. Among your personal belongings, there is a New York Bank Diamond Black Card. The password is your birthday. Your billions in assets have always been on that card."

Adam froze.

He had received this call many times before. Every few months over the past three years, someone called saying the same thing—that he had once been a top agent of the BLACK GOAT organization, codenamed Shepherd, with billions in wealth and power beyond ordinary imagination.

Every time, he dismissed it as a scam.

Because he didn't care. He thought he had Grace. He thought that family was everything.

But now, he had nothing.

Adam crouched down and unzipped the garbage bag. Inside were a few old clothes, a pair of worn sneakers, an old wallet—and a black card.

He picked up the card and turned it over. Deep black all over, with a diamond pattern printed on its face. For three years, it had lain in this garbage bag, and no one had ever noticed it.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" Adam said into the phone.

"Go check at New York Bank," Sarah said. "The password is your birthday."

Adam hung up and stood.

He needed to check. Even if it wasn't about the wealth—he wanted to know who he really was.