I Know Who You Are

"

"What are you talking about?" I deny instantly, putting on a shocked, hurt expression to convince her.

"Don't lie to me! I know you are an assassin!" Jennifer screams at me.

"What?! Where did that thought even come from?!"

"Someone dropped off a folder of documents about you and your activities. You... you are Scorpion!"

My eyes widen in genuine surprise when I hear Jennifer mention that name.

"I am right, aren't I? You have a Scorpion tattoo on your chest, just like the profile document said."

"Who sent it to you?! I'm telling you—"

"One more step and I will shoot you!" she threatens, groping inside her bag and pulling out a folder. She throws it onto the coffee table. "I read it. It's solid enough."

"Babe, come on! How can you trust a document that was sent anonymously over me?!"

"No more steps!!"

"I have done nothing but protect—"

She pulls the trigger with her eyes closed. A split second later, I feel a sharp sting on my left cheek. I scream and curse in pain as a reflex.

"I said no more steps," she says in a low tone.

I touch my cheek—it's bleeding.

"Okay... you're the one holding the gun. Whatever you say," I tell her, raising both hands. "I can't say anything if you won't even believe my words."

"Give me your phone," she orders.

"You know I can sue you for this, right?"

"Shut up! Give me your working phone."

I take my phone and toss it to her. "It's dead. I forgot to charge it."

She snorts and throws it onto the couch after confirming I told her the truth. She paces nervously while still pointing the gun at me.

"What are you going to do, baby?" I ask.

"Shut up!!"

"Look, if you were so certain that I'm an assassin, you would've already reported me to the police."

"I said shut up!"

"But you're not so sure about it, are you?"

"What part of 'shut up' don't you understand?!"

I don't say another word. Instead, I take a step closer. I know she'll shoot, but this time, I'm ready.

The second she fires, I dodge and rush at her. Jennifer falls to the floor with a loud scream. I quickly grab the gun from her hand.

"Sorry, Babe... but now I'm the one with the gun," I whisper in her ear.

"You really accused me of being an assassin based on this crap?" I ask in disbelief, tossing the folder back onto the coffee table.

The folder contains files on my so-called "artwork"—death reports of my supposed targets. Every single one of them. Oddly enough, none of them directly mention me. The closest connection is my last job—you remember, the paranoid Mr. Chekhovsky.

Since "Timothy Chang" was found dead beside Chekhovsky, the police questioned the bodyguards. From their descriptions, they made a 3D sketch of his face, which, of course, resembled mine. They ran it through the database and found nothing. Then, they searched for Timothy Chang. They found nothing—except his DNA and dental records.

I turn to Jennifer. She sits in silence, her face grim as she stares at her now-bound hands and feet. I tied them with plastic straps.

"Jen?" I call.

"That Chang was you, wasn't he?"

"No."

"It's just too much of a coincidence. You were out of town the same day the victim died. Then you were missing for days. You were hiding, weren't you?"

I shake my head in amusement. "So, you think only one accident can happen per day?" I smirk. "How about we call any random hospital and ask how many accidents happened on that date?"

"How about we call your hospital to confirm whether you were actually admitted or not?" Jennifer challenges me.

I sigh, cursing her intelligence inwardly.

"We can't, can we? Because—"

"I was helped by a local," I cut in, lying, of course.

"Yeah, right."

I shrug. "So, what did you say about that Chang body? It was found and confirmed to be Timothy Chang based on his DNA and teeth. Or do you also think I have a conspiracy with the police?"

"It's possible," she says.

I laugh. "Okay, how about this: we go to the police and tell them all about your assumption. I bet they can't even arrest me based on your story and those so-called proofs."

She snorts and throws herself back against the couch.

A ding from the kitchen catches my attention. I walk over, take out a bowl of mac and cheese from the microwave, and return to the living room.

"Eat," I order, holding a spoonful in front of her mouth.

She presses her lips together, refusing.

I sigh. "You have to eat."

She turns her head away.

I sigh again, then eat the mac and cheese myself, deliberately moaning in exaggerated pleasure. "Damn, this is so good," I say, closing my eyes.

She glances at me from the corner of her eye when I moan again.

"I put extra parmesan in it. You want some?" I offer.

Jennifer loves cheese—especially parmesan. But she looks away.

I end up finishing the whole bowl myself. Afterward, we sit in silence, watching TV.

"I need to pee," she finally speaks.

"Okay," I say, moving to pick her up.

She glares. "What? I can carry you."

"Then I suppose to pee standing up?" Jennifer rebukes.

"Oh, right." I take a pair of scissors and cut the strap on her legs. "Come on."

I follow her to the bathroom.

"Really?" she asks, irritated to see me standing right next to the doorframe.

"Hey, I've seen you naked plenty of times. This won't affect me." I smirk, not moving an inch.

She grumbles something under her breath but eventually does what she needs to do.

Once she's done, I follow her back to the couch and tie her legs with a new plastic strap.

"Is this really necessary?" she asks.

I shrug. "You don't believe me. I'm afraid you're going to do something stupid."

"I still need to go to work tomorrow," she reminds me.

"I can always call in sick for you," I reply.

She sighs in defeat.

"I need to sleep," she finally says.

It's only 8 PM, but I figure this is her way of avoiding another argument. I help lift her legs onto the couch as she shifts into a lying position. Then, I sit on the floor, leaning against the couch to give her space.

She pulls the blanket over her head, leaving me unsure if she's really sleeping.

I turn my attention back to the television, watching a documentary about wildlife.

After half an hour, I get bored and start flipping through channels absentmindedly. A local breaking news report catches my attention. The headline reads: Billionaire owner of a telecommunications company found dead—Walter Waddleson.

"Babe... Babe..." I shake Jennifer's leg to wake her up.

"What?" she asks in a sleepy voice.

"Your biological father passed away," I tell her.

Jennifer stares at me blankly. "Should I be sad?" she asks, not in a sarcastic way. "I don't even know him."

I'm about to respond when I hear a voice from the television.

"I, on behalf of the Waddleson family, sadly announce the passing of our dearly beloved father..."

The voice is unmistakable.

Ivan Radwansky.

"It's him!" I exclaim suddenly, pointing at the TV just as his image disappears.

"What?"

"Radwansky! He's the mastermind!"

"How can you be so sure?" Jennifer asks.

"I recognize his voice! He was the one who cal—" I stop myself too late.

"Called you for what?!" Jennifer is too sharp not to notice.

"Nothing," I lie in vain.

"He called you to order you to kill me, didn't he?" she presses.

I press my lips together.

"Didn't he?!" she demands.

"No."

"Then how the hell do you recognize his voice? And how can you be sure that he's the mastermind?!"

I stare deep into her eyes, torn between telling her the truth or keeping it from her.

"Just go back to sleep," I finally say. "I was just babbling."

Jennifer shoots me a daggered look. "I don't trust you," she says bitterly.

That stings more than it should.

"Look, whether I'm an assassin as you claim or not, I... I not only have no intention to kill you, but I have also been and will continue to protect you," I say firmly, my tone serious, my expression unwavering. "That is my vow to you, Jennifer."

"How can I beli—" she starts.

"That's not merely a promise. I've proved it several times, haven't I? I've protected you the best I could, and I will continue to do so. Whether you trust me or not."

Jennifer stares at me. Her lips part as if she wants to say something, but eventually, she just sighs.

"I'm going back to sleep," she mutters and pulls the blanket over her head.

About ten minutes later, her muffled voice emerges from under the blanket.

"Can I have a glass of water, please?"

"Okay," I say, getting up and heading to the kitchen.

I return with a glass of water. Jennifer is already sitting up. I hold the glass to her lips since her wrists are still tied.

"Thanks," she says, struggling to wipe a drop of water running down her chin.

"It's nothing," I reply, giving her a small, warm smile.

She hesitates for a moment before speaking again. "Scott... may I... If it's not too much trouble..." she pauses, then looks at me. "I'm hungry."

I chuckle. "Instant ramen okay?"

She nods.

I take the empty glass back to the kitchen. Just as I press the Start button on the microwave, I hear the sound of the front door opening.

"Shit! Jen!!" I shout, rushing back into the living room.

The couch is empty.

A cut plastic strap lies on the floor beside the scissors that were supposed to be on the coffee table.

"Damn it, Jen!!" I curse as I sprint straight for the emergency exit.

I hear hurried footsteps a couple of floors below.

I race down the stairs, trying to catch up. By the time I reach the first-floor exit, I hear Jennifer's terrified scream.

"No! Let me go!!"

I push through the door.

Jennifer is being dragged by two men—one of them is the new front desk guy I saw earlier.

Shit.

I speed up.

They're about to shove her into a minivan when I reach them. I grab one of the men's shoulders and land a punch on his jaw while simultaneously delivering a brutal kick to the other man's hip, sending him crashing onto the sidewalk.

"Are you okay?" I ask Jennifer, panting.

She doesn't answer.

Instead, she screams my name. "Scott!!"

I don't process her warning fast enough before I feel a sharp sting on my neck.

I turn my head just in time to see the man who did it.

Then my body weakens.

The world blurs.

And I collapse onto the pavement.