Chapter 4

Before college started, I went to the hospital alone.

The results came back normal. The doctor said I likely had temporary amnesia caused by an unknown reason.

Just as I stepped out of the hospital, I heard a shout.

"Anya!"

I turned and saw a mature man in a sharp suit.

I didn't know who he was, so I stood there, unmoving.

He walked closer to me and asked, "Why are you at the hospital alone? Are you feeling unwell?"

I shook my head. "I'm fine."

He grabbed my wrist. "Then Uncle Marcus will take you home."

So, this was my Uncle Marcus, the CEO of Sterling Enterprises, the successful and promising man my parents always talked about.

But the way he looked at me, with an uncomfortable invasiveness, made me frown and pull my hand away.

"No thanks, I called a ride."

He froze. "Anya, are you still mad? What happened that day was my fault, and I apologize. But you have to believe me, you're the only one for me. I'll take care of you for the rest of my life."

As he spoke, he put an arm around my shoulder.

I shoved him away and stomped hard on his foot.

"Uncle, aren't you a bit old to be playing the innocent card?"

He bent over, groaning in pain. I took the chance to put some distance between us.

"I know you're busy with work, but maybe take some time for skincare and hit the gym? Your crow's feet are practically racing each other across your face!"

Honestly, my uncle wasn't a bad-looking guy.

I just couldn't understand why all these men seemed to have some secret, twisted connection with me.

He winced, then managed a pained smile. "Anya, if it makes you feel better, you can hit me a few more times."

"You're a glutton for punishment."

"I am."

His eyes were filled with a disturbing adoration. "You never used to hit me before. I never knew you could be so beautiful when you're angry."

I scoffed. Seriously, who asks for that?

I gave him another kick, then turned and walked away without looking back.

Back home, I found a package.

It was from Uncle Marcus, paid for three days ago.

I unwrapped the high-end gift box, only to find a piece of intricate lingerie inside.

At the same time, I got a message from him.

He'd sent me three PayPal transfers: $5000, $2000, and $1000, saying it was my spending money.

Attached was a lengthy, gushy confession.

I didn't even read it. I tapped my phone a few times.

I accepted all three transfers, then immediately donated every single cent to a charity organization.

I screenshotted the donation receipts and sent them to him.

*Uncle Marcus, send more! Charity work needs your support.*

As for the lingerie, I sent it right back to him with a note:

*I think you'd look much sexier in it, Uncle Marcus.*