Secretly Mine
Chapter 60: Nightmares of the Past [Christian POV]

Chapter 60: Nightmares of the Past [Christian POV]

"Ugh, why am I so thirsty? I need a glass of water."

I quietly walked out of my bedroom and sleepily walked down the dark hallway to where the kitchen was.

On my way there, I noticed that the door on my right was slightly open.

"Mom never leaves her bedroom door open," I mumbled under my breath.

I walked over to peek inside, rubbing my sleepy eyes. But as soon as I saw the scene inside, all of the drowsiness vanished, and panic set in.

My mother was lying on her bed with a massive pool of blood beneath her. Signs of struggle were evident as splatters of blood could be seen all over the walls.

Inside the room was a hooded man. He looked at my mother’s lifeless body with a smile.

"You had some nerve running away from me all of these years. I lost a lot of money because of you, bitch. Remember, my goods never escape me!"

After saying his piece, the masked man laughed and jumped out of the window, escaping into the night.

The moment he left, I ran into the room.

"Mother! Mother, wake up!"

No matter how hard I shook her or how loudly I yelled, she didn’t respond. The moonlight reflected off her face, highlighting her beautiful yet lifeless features.

My stomach turned. The realization that she would never wake up caused me to fall to the ground.

Why? Why would someone kill her? My kind and loving mother, who always put others before herself, was killed for no apparent reason.

My chest tightened as grief consumed me. I opened my mouth to scream for help, but this time, no sound came out.

I pushed myself to scream even harder. While I felt my lungs gasp for air, no sound came out.

-

"Fuck."

I woke up abruptly, covered in a cold sweat. My heart was racing, and I found myself gasping for air.

It was another nightmare.

Calling it a nightmare wasn’t technically correct. These were my memories, an experience that I lived through, being replayed in my dream.

I sat up in my bed and ran my fingers through my hair. My room was still dark, so I glanced at the clock on my nightstand.

"It just turned three, looks like I’m having another night of little sleep," I mumbled, feeling frustrated.

After my heart rate calmed down, I got out of bed to rinse off in the shower. My body was covered in cold sweat, and I refused to feel it on me any longer.

The shower’s warm water calmed me further; by the time I finished drying off, all that was left was a lingering sadness.

I walked over to my dresser and picked up a small picture frame. This was one of the few photos of her I had.

Growing up, we always had financial difficulties, so printing photos wasn’t something we did often.

"I miss you, Mom," I said quietly as I ran my fingers over the glossy finish of the small picture. In this photo, she was smiling happily as if she had everything she ever wanted.

As I left my bedroom to make a cup of tea, I ran into Johnathan in the hallway.

"Is everything okay, sir?" he asked with worry.

"Yeah, just can’t sleep," I sighed and followed him down the stairs.

He looked at me with a tinge of sadness, but he’s been around long enough to know that this happened to me every year on my mother’s death anniversary.

"Have a seat, sir. I’ll bring you a cup of tea."

I nodded at him, grateful for his concern, and took a seat on the small sofa inside my study. The soft glow of the lamps, coupled with the many rows of books, created a soothing environment.

Jonathan came back a few minutes later carrying an obnoxiously large mug of tea. I couldn’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness.

Although I had dozens of priceless tea sets made from the finest porcelain, this mug was my favorite. It came from my early college days, where I could only afford a single copy of each type of dish and decided to go with the largest mug I could possibly find.

Since then, it’s been a close companion and a good reminder of those early days.

The tea had a strong herbal aroma. Jonathan must have chosen something to soothe my nerves.

"Can I get you anything else, sir?" he asked once I accepted the tea.

I shook my head, "No, thank you. Please get some rest, I’ll be okay."

Jonathan looked me over once more before nodding, "If you need anything, please call for me."

I smiled softly and turned my attention to a box of documents that was sitting beside me. It was a collection of all the evidence that I’ve gathered on my mother’s murder over the years.

Unfortunately, the box was very empty, as nearly all of the leads I’ve gotten over the years have led to dead ends. The only thing that showed promise was the Moresi auction house.

-

Six years ago.

"Christian, it’s already after ten. You should go home and get some sleep," Blake said with a yawn.

I looked up at him and frowned. While I could still continue to sort through the proposals, I knew that Blake wouldn’t leave unless I did, and he looked very tired.

"You’re right. Let’s call it a night here. I’ll see you in the morning," I agreed and stood up from my chair.

My legs were stiff from sitting so long, causing a slight discomfort as I took a few steps forward.

Blake looked at me with a hint of relief and quickly closed the leather notebook in his hands. "Sounds good. I’ll see you in the morning," he said, fighting back a yawn.

We both made our way out of the one-room office space I had rented and went our separate ways after another round of goodbyes.

Outside, the roads were still wet from the earlier rain. I walked in the direction of my one-bedroom apartment, but after taking a few steps, I felt my stomach growl.

"Well, I suppose I would be hungry. I haven’t eaten anything all day."

Since I knew there was no food at home, I looked around to find a place to eat. Most of the places that were still open were well out of my budget, so I had to think of other options.

I wonder if that small eatery is still open.

Working off of only faint memories, I walked towards a back alley about ten minutes down the road.

This part of town had a lot fewer cars, and the lights were spread farther apart. A strong sense of nostalgia washed over me as I walked down the mildly familiar streets.

It didn’t take long before I stumbled upon the small eatery that was thankfully still open.

"Welcome in dear. Take a seat anywhere you want."

I smiled at the familiar greeting from the owner. The only difference was that she seemed even rounder than what I remembered.

The tables were mostly empty, only one other couple was inside. To maximize privacy, I chose a table on the opposite side of the room.

"Holler for me whenever you decide what you want, hun." The owner came by my table and dropped off a menu.

I only had to give it a single glance to see that it was exactly the same as I remembered it.

"No need, I’ll just have today’s special," I smiled.

If I remember correctly, Tuesday’s special should be a bowl of chicken noodle soup and a piece of freshly baked bread.

The owner glanced at me with curiosity. I could tell that she didn’t recognize who I was.

"Very well then, love. I’ll bring it right out."

After she made her way to the kitchen, I noticed a pair of eyes on me from across the room.

A very frail and skittish-looking woman glanced at me with wide eyes. I smiled at her politely and looked away, but she continued to stare at me with great intensity.

The owner came back holding a tray of food. "Here ya go, dear. I even threw in an extra piece of bread for you."

Just a I had predicted, a hearty bowl of chicken noodle was placed down in front of me and two piping hot pieces of bread.

Wow, it smells so good!

I was pleasantly surprised at how good the food looked, and quickly ripped off a piece of bread to dip into the broth.

As soon as the first drops of the warm and salty broth entered my mouth, I realized just how hungry I really was.

I picked up the spoon and began eating with relish, ignoring the intense gaze on me from across the room.

-

The soup in my bowl was almost finished when the man who was sitting with the skittish woman left the table to use the restroom.

I ignored him and continued eating, but the moment he was out of sight, the woman looked over at me once again.

"Hey, you’re that pretty woman’s kid, aren’t you?" she asked.

Her voice was low, but I could hear her clearly.

Pretty woman?

My mother was indeed beautiful, but there were many good-looking people in the world. I looked over at her with confusion, keeping silent.

"It really is you! You used to come here as a kid. I remember you both. Where is your mother?"

I couldn’t help but frown. She said she recognized me, but I had no idea who she was. That and asking where my mother was...

"My mother is no longer alive," I said quietly.

Her eyes widened, and then she frowned, "They must have found her. The people from the auction house."

Hearing her words, I jolted out of my seat and walked over to her.

"Who are they? What auction house? What do you know?" I asked with a frightening amount of urgency in my voice.

She sank back in her seat, and her eyes darted around the room.

"Please," I begged her.

She finally looked me in the eyes, "The auction house. The Moresi auction house, that’s where she ran away."

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