Chapter Six

“Where am I?” Rome mumbled, staring around the room, then his sight rested on an elderly-looking man with smoky-grey hair and a white goatee.

With calmness in his eyes, he smiled at Rome and said, “You are at my house. I'm Mr. Ford by the way.”

“Mr… Fo-rd. I…”

“It's okay, kid. You don't have to fear me.”

Doubt clouded Rome’s feature when he stared at Mr. Ford and thought, 'Don't fear you! You order your men to beat the crap out of me! Do you take me as a fool!’

For a second, Mr. Ford took his gaze off Rome and placed his focus on a picture frame. Then he took it off the dresser and showed it to Rome.

“Do you know the person in this photo?” Mr. Ford asked.

“Why do you have a picture of me as a kid?” Rome mumbled, feeling goosebumps on his skin.

“My son!”

“Your what?”

Thinking Mr. Ford had gone mad, Rome began running over escape plans in his head.

“You don't remember your father?” Mr. Ford asked, smiling brightly with tears in his eyes.

“I have a father, and he's not you. Now with that said, I will be on my way.” Rome intoned, throwing the blanket off him.

“How come you remember your name and not me?”

“Because of a stupid recurring nightmare that I have every night from the time I was a boy till now.”

“What nightmare?”

“Everything is fuzzy in the dream except the person's voice, and I think they were talking to me. They kept shouting, ‘Run, Rome! Run, and don’t look back! So I decided to call myself Rome.”

Watching Mr. Ford burst into tears, Rome felt awkward seeing a grown man cry, and he didn't know if he should comfort him or take the chance and run. But he didn't have the guts to do either of those things, so he sat there, waiting for Mr. Ford to stop crying.

“That was me! I was the one telling you to run, Rome. On an unfortunate night, my enemies storm this very place and murder your mother.” Mr. Ford said, clutching his fists.

For an unknown reason, Rome felt his heartache when he heard those words, and even though he still had no memory about Mr. Ford and this mansion, he sensed a feeling of familiarity.

“Your wife is dead. I am so sorry.” Rome mumbled.

“She's not only my wife. She's your mother. We fought a great fight that night, but your life would have gotten endangered if you had stayed in this place that night, so I told you to run away.” Mr. Ford said, staring Rome in his eyes.

Yet he could tell that Rome was still in doubt about the words he had said, but Mr. Ford was sure that he had found his long-lost son.

“This father that you speak of is he your biological father?” Mr. Ford asked.

“No, he found me after I got hit by a car, and the driver drove off, leaving me there to die,” Rome said, realizing that there's a possibility that he could be Mr. Ford's son.

“This is all my fault. I have failed you as a father. I tried finding you after I had destroyed the ones who took your mother's life, but my search was in vain. Son, let me make it up to you!”

“DNA test,”

“Huh?”

“I want a test done to clear my doubts since I still don't have memories of you and everything you just said.”

There was an awkward pause, then Mr. Ford burst into a peal of laughter.

“Yes, I will go call Dr. Lincoln right now!” Mr. Ford shouted.

Then he patted Rome on his arm and ran out of the room.

“What a cocky old man. One minute he's trying to get me killed, and the next, I am his son!” Rome mumbled, getting off the bed.

Feeling a bit curious, he went around the room, searching the drawers and cabinets, then he came across a picture frame hidden in one of the dresser drawers.

“Who is she?” Rome mumbled, staring at the lady in the photo.

Then the frame dropped from his hands and smashed onto the tiles.

Tears began to roll down Rome's eyes, and his hands started to tremble uncontrollably.

When Mr. Ford returned to the room, he met Rome sitting in the corner, crying bitterly. Then he looked away from the picture and stared at Mr. Ford.

“Mom has died. I saw it all that night. She laid in a pool of blood. Why did I have to remember? I don't want to remember her in that state!” Rome mumbled, hugging himself tightly.

A while later, Dr. Lincoln came to the mansion and did a thorough checkup on Rome.

“He suffered from Dissociative amnesia. Rome's brain blocked out the memory of his mother's death, leaving him unable to remember important personal information.” Dr. Lincoln said, staring at Mr. Ford.

“You must have suffered so much. I am a terrible father.” Mr. Ford said, tearing up again.

‘Why does he love crying so much? It's so weird. I don't remember him being this pathetic when I was little.’ Rome thought, darting his eyes around the room.

After Mr. Lincoln had taken a sample of Mr. Ford and Rome salivas, he left the room, leaving them alone.

“My son is finally back! I have an heir again. I think it's time for me to retire.” Mr. Ford said.

“What?” Rome asked.

“Well, you don't expect this old man to continue running the companies at such an age. I want you to take your rightful place as my heir and manage my multi-billionaire dollars businesses.”

“I…”

“I know you still have a lot to catch up on. But you are a fast learner. I can't believe you still know the moves that I taught you. Takeover from your father, huh.”

After an awkward silence, Rome glanced up at Mr. Ford with a mischievous smile.

“Okay, but under one condition,” Rome mumbled.

“Anything. Name it.” Mr. Ford said.

“Do not make my identity public.”

“But why? I have hoped for this day for so long. Why can't I tell the world that you are my son?”

A sly smile crept upon Rome's lips as he stared at his father and said, “I still have a few scores to settle.”