Chapter 4 Does Your Family Have a Throne to Inherit?

Jessica had barely crossed the threshold of her home when Danielle's voice pierced through the door. Swinging it wide and moving into the space, she began:

"Danielle, I'm back. What are you doing??"

Jessica voice tapered into silence as her eyes lifted and she came to an abrupt, statuesque halt.

The man, propping himself up on the edge of the bed with one hand, had a relaxed dishevelment to his hair from lying in a coma for three days.

Jessica had always known he was handsome, but she hadn't expected him to look quite so striking upon waking.

She had seen her fair share of good-looking men, but at that moment, her eyes unintentionally lingered on his for a few seconds before she snapped back to reality and walked closer to the bed.

"You're awake, huh? As long as you're not dead, that's good. Give me your family's contact info, and I'll have them pick you up. You didn't even have a cell phone or wallet in your shirt and suit pockets, so I had no choice but to bring you here. Now that you're awake, hurry up and vacate my bed."

Jessica rubbed her shoulder, "Thanks to you, I've been sleeping on the couch for three days."

Her gaze lingered on the man in the bed: "I asked you a question. Do you have your family's contact information?"

The man glanced at her, uttering just two words: "Don't have."

Without any further explanation, his voice came out husky and indifferent to the severity of his injuries.

"No contact? How is that even possible? You must remember your parents or relatives' numbers, or at least an address?"

Gabriel fell silent for a few seconds, then crisply delivered three words, "Don't remember."

He couldn't go back now; the timing wasn't right.

Jessica's eyelid twitched violently as she thought about the cliffs and the scattered rocks she had seen in the bushes. Recalling the injuries on the man's head and how he wasn't spared any wounds elsewhere, she wondered if he had really ended up with such a cliché amnesia.

This sort of tired amnesia plotline wouldn't even be written into today's scripts.

Without another thought, Jessica grabbed her cell phone: "If you really can't remember, then I have no choice but to take you to the police. I might have saved you once, but I can't just keep you here without any known family."

At that moment, Gabriel caught sight of the empty IV bag above the bed and unceremoniously yanked out the needle from his arm.

Jessica saw a few fine beads of blood suddenly appear on the back of his hand and instinctively rushed to the bedside to grab the antiseptic cotton left by the doctor and pressed it onto his hand, "Have you lost your mind? How could you pull out the IV yourself with injuries like this?"

Gabriel, caught by her sudden grasp and the light fragrance that filled his nose, looked at the woman who had suddenly leaned in, "With injuries like this, how could I withstand the hassle from the cops?"

Jessica's brows moved slightly as she let go and stepped back, gazing at him suspiciously, "You don't remember anything, and yet you're this calm? Do you really not remember who you are? Or do you think my daughter and I are easy to fool? Are you trying to trick me?"

Gabriel pressed the antiseptic cotton to his hand. At her words, a faint smile curled on his lips, "Even if I can't temporarily recall anything about myself, I still have the images in my mind from before the accident. I was hit by a car on a mountain road, and both the car and I rolled down the cliff edge. That's enough to prove I'm just injured from an accident and most likely not a bad person. Since you've already let me stay for three days, a few more shouldn't make much of a difference."

"How can it not make a difference? I've been sleeping on the couch for three days."

"I can sleep on the couch."

"That's not the point! The point is, you're an unknown!"

"I'm not a bad person."

"That's not okay either!"

"You can let it be okay."

Who acts this calm and composed after losing their memory upon awakening?

Such calmness and composure without a hint of panic definitely signaled trouble.

Despite being injured and half-lying in the bed, he acted as if he were commanding from on high.

Was this some memory disorder where he thought he had a throne to inherit?