Cain ( Underworld Mafia Romance 1)

Of course. That’s why she did everything he asked of her. She lived her life in fear, basically, and because of that, she knows nothing. Who does, then? His lawyer? But he’s dead. His best friend? Who’s that?

Who do I ask about who I am?

I can’t come up with an answer, which makes me feel like crying. I’m not going to cry in front of Suzette, though, so I grab my purse and head towards the door.

“Alyssa!” Suzette calls after me.

I glance at her with narrowed eyes. “Goodbye, Suzette. You can stop pretending you care about me now.”

With that, I leave the room. I slam the door behind me and hurry down the hall. At the stairs, I stop to look around. A tear trickles down my cheek.

Strange. I’ve lived here most of my life thinking I was Alyssa Chandler. Now, I don’t know who I am.

As I walk to the front door, I feel my heart cracking with every footstep.

What am I supposed to do now?

~

I end up in one of my favorite spots – the steps on the riverbank where I used to go to read or just be by myself. The fifth step from the bottom, to be precise, right where the tree branches provide the most shade.

I’ve stopped crying now. I let all my tears out in the car by the side of the road. My thoughts, too, have grown calm like the water in the river, no longer rushing in different directions.

Still, my heart aches. I still feel lost, empty. If before I felt like a part of me was missing, now I feel like a hollow shell.

I’m not Alyssa Chandler. The life I’ve lived isn’t mine. It wasn’t what I was supposed to have. My father, who I admired greatly, isn’t my father. My mother, who I tried so hard to please, has thought of me as a pest all this time. My brothers who I grew up with don’t really know who I am.

I feel like I borrowed someone else’s shoes just because they fit and they’re nicer than mine and I’ve been walking in them all this time, so long I forgot they weren’t mine. Now that I remember, I have to go back to my own shoes, but I have no clue where I left them and it seems no one has. It’s as if they never existed.

If no one knows the real me, does she exist? Is Alyssa Chandler real? If not, who am I?

“Allie.”

At the sound of my name and the familiar voice, I glance over my shoulder. Grae is standing at the top of the steps, still in his suit and tie. He looks like he’s just come out of an afternoon meeting.

What is he doing here?

“I thought I might find you here,” he says as he comes down the stairs.

I rest my chin on my arm. “And why were you trying to find me? Shouldn’t you be in your office signing a billion-dollar contract or something?”

“That can wait.” He sits beside me and clasps his hands between his knees. “Mom called.”

“I see.”

I’m not surprised. She always calls Grae when she has a hard time dealing with me, and he always steps in and helps me figure out my thoughts and feelings so I can do the right thing. I don’t see how Grae can help this time, though.

“I’m not going to apologize to her for the things I said,” I tell him.

Not anymore.

“She doesn’t want an apology,” Grae says. “She sent me because she’s worried about you.”

My eyebrows arch. She did?

“Believe it or not, she does think of you as her own daughter,” Grae adds.

I look at him with wide eyes. “You knew?”

“About the fact that you’re adopted?” He turns his head to meet my gaze. “No. I found out just now.”

“Oh.”

“I always thought you were unlike any of us, though,” he goes on. “You don’t have Dad’s sense of organization that Adam and I inherited.”

That’s true. Dad’s… well, Nicholas Chandler’s office was always pristine. So were Adam and Grae’s bedrooms.

“And I think we all know you don’t have Mom’s love of shiny, pretty things.”

“You mean I don’t like spending money on nonsense,” I say.

“You don’t have my conversational skills, either.”

I snort. He means the charm that he uses on women?

“You’re not serious like Adam. You’re not good at dancing like Theo.”

“Great.” I frown. “Thanks for making me feel like I really am not a Chandler.”

“But you’re not just a Chandler,” Grae tells me. “You’re Allie. You’re a crybaby. You’re a rebel. You’re a sore loser.”

Ouch. Is he really trying to cheer me up?

“But you’re also a black belt in karate. You’re a national quiz bowl semifinalist. You’re an incredible FBI agent. You can put a runway model to shame when you’re in a gown even though you hate wearing one.”