Adam's POV
I laid supine on my bed just staring at the ceiling like a damn creep. I mean people always looked at me as if I was a creep and I don't blame them. I had the tendency to wear only hoodies. Whether during a storm, tsunami, spring or summer, I was spotted wearing hoodies.
Everyone at school avoided me because I wasn't worth it. I was happy the day I finally got a friend. I was so damn happy only to find out two hours later that she talked to me because of a bet. But still, I didn't call her out. I know she doesn't want me as a friend but I'm honestly scared of being alone. That is why I also pretend to be her friend. Because, then, everything will be simpler that way.
I stood up and made my way towards the desk. I had to finish my Anatomy assignment before tomorrow. I hated having pressure on me during deadlines. That is why I try my utmost best to complete assignments before deadlines. I sat down ready to open my bag and fish out my books when my Mom barged in without knocking.
I've told her several times that I'm an adult and I deserve at least a knock when she is coming to my room to talk. She doesn't even have anything to say anyway.
"Pack your clothes Adam. We are moving out?" My mom said her eyes eying me with such scrutiny that made my insides and throat coil into a knot.
"Moving? Where? And why" I asked, my voice cracking. I hate that I'm weak but I can't help it. I've always been on edge around my mother.
She didn't look up from the screen of her phone. She tapped a few buttons, then shrugged, her tone dismissive, almost bored. "You don't need to know. Just pack."
"But…where are we going? You owe me that at least" I murmured afraid she'll burst out.
"I got a new husband and we are moving in with him. He is rich so you don't have to worry" My Mom said with a dazed smile. A smile she had never offered me. A smile only reserved for public appearances and money.
For some reason, my mom had never loved me. I remember trying to play with my mom when I was little but she always shoved me towards the nanny saying I was dirty and she couldn't afford her clothes worth dollars to be dirtied by me.
I never understood why she was like that to me. She gives me everything I want: clothes, new games, new electronics and so on but that wasn't what I wanted. All I ever wanted from her was affection. I have never even eaten home cooked food before. Only junk foods. I tried cooking once and I burnt the whole kitchen which rendered me in a dark cold room with no food, water, blanket or electronics as a punishment. I was there for three days during that 3 day stormy night.
"But? What about my friends?" I asked her but I was met with a sneer on her face.
"Oh Adam. You have no friends. We both know it that deep down, no one wants you just like I'll never want you. That bitchy friend of yours barely tolerates your presence. So, pack your damn bags and spare me the headache. If it was up to me, I'd have left you here alone but then it will tarnish my image." My mom said with hatred and stormed out.
Tears blurred my vision as I made my way towards the huge wardrobe and started packing my clothes into the suitcase.
My fingers brushed over the scattered remnants of my life: posters of bands I'd spent hours plastering on the walls, the small collection of books stacked in neat towers, my headphones tangled and worn. Packing felt surreal, like dismantling pieces of myself but I knew I had no choice.
I paused for a moment, letting a memory surface: the one time she had smiled at me genuinely, years ago when I won an academic competition but even looking at it now, I realized that was for the sake of publicity. The warmth of it was so good but now a cruel echo in the hollow house. I always ask Why am I never good enough? But I still haven't gotten my questions answered.
A low growl drew my attention to the window. Outside, the street was slick with rain, reflecting the orange glow of the streetlights. A sleek black car rolled to a stop, its glossy paint shimmering, dark and untouchable. Tinted windows reflected the streetlights like cold eyes watching him.
My pulse accelerated and then, more than the car, came the men. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed all in black. Their eyes swept the street methodically and silently. Every move was calculated and precise. Everything about them screamed danger in capital letters. But there was nothing I could do.
My Mom, Clarence, for her part, didn't flinch. She moved past me, nonchalant, as if she'd been waiting for this moment for years. Relief and an elated smile hovered on her face.
The car door opened, and a man stepped out. He was tall, impeccably dressed, with a presence that filled the space and made me feel small. His gaze swept over me once, then lingered just long enough to make me swallow nervously. I never had the best experience meeting people for the first time. I always get anxious, fidgety and nervous enough for bile to rise from my throat.
"You're Adam, I presume?" The man's voice was smooth, controlled, yet there was no mistaking the authority behind it. "Do you have everything you need?"
I nodded, voice caught in my throat. Every instinct screamed both fear and awe because the man was talking to me with kindness. The leather seats gleamed as the men loaded my bags into the car. The faint scent of cologne lingered in the air, mixing with the sharp tang of rain and wet asphalt.
I wanted to ask questions, to demand answers, but the presence of the man who was undoubtedly my mother's husband's bodyguards was a silent warning: no interruptions, no nonsense. "Who… who are you? Where are we going?" I managed to barely stammer my words.
"Don't worry. You are my son now, there is no need to act skittish okay. For your answers, wait till we get home. I'm sure Lorenzo will be pleased to answer them for you" The man said in the same kind voice and I found myself nodding.
I climbed into the car, taking in the interior fine leather, the muted hum of the engine, the quiet, almost suffocating aura of control that filled the space. I glanced outside the window at the rain-soaked street, at the dimly lit houses, at the world I was leaving behind.
During the ride, I sent a quick message to Bianca, my thumbs trembling: I'm moving. Don't know where. Call me later. Her replies were a mix of concern and disbelief, but I didn't have time to dwell if she was being genuine or if she was finally happy to get rid of me.
Finally, the car rolled to a stop. My heart nearly stopped at the sight of the estate: imposing gates, security cameras glinting like watchful eyes, guards flanking the perimeter. The mansion itself rose like a fortress, dark and beautiful, intimidating and untouchable.
The man stepped out, turning to me with a sharp glance. "This is where you'll be living. My name is Matteo. I know this is hard for you but, know that, whenever you need something, you can give me a call or ask Lorenzo"
My throat went dry as I nodded. Though Matteo was kind, his world… It was bigger, darker, and more dangerous than anything I have known. And from how Matteo keeps mentioning the same name Lorenzo, maybe it might be his assistant or something.
"Lorenzo!" Matteo's voice boomed through the courtyard, sharp, commanding. "Come downstairs, now!"
I watched, frozen, as the figure on the stairs finally moved. My breath hitched. "Old Man! What is the problem again?" Lorenzo's voice rang out, teasing, commanding, and somehow terrifying all at once.