Twisted Ties of Love

How did he know the name "Lucas"? Who was Lucas?

Casey found himself drawn to a man just ahead of him. To satisfy his curiosity, he called out, "Lucas." The man turned, a look of shock quickly morphing into terror.

Lucas had heard his name called and turned to see the person. His face lost all color in an instant.Belonging to NôvelDrama.Org.

Casey was well-known, regarded as potentially best actor by online users. Even if Lucas didn't use the internet, he still knew of him.

He had been shocked the first time he saw Casey on screen. Upon seeing his face, his right hand where the artificial limb was seared him.

He had looked into the man who chopped off his hand. It was someone in the orphanage named Ryker Dempsey, a retard, who had been missing for quite long and had been presumed dead by the police.

There was an uncanny resemblance to Ryker Dempsey, but that couldn't be. He was far from retarded and was a gifted actor to boot. There was no way he could be the same man from the orphanage. And then there was the matter of their temperament - it was different.

A person's temperament was vital, and once it changed, the person would seem different. It was normal for him not to tell from the difference between these two.

After Izabella's death, Lucas saw his severed hand as a mere punishment compared to what Izabella had suffered; imprison, depression, a miscarriage, a broken leg, and finally a fiery death. His pain was a fraction of hers.

Years had passed, and Lucas had almost forgotten about that man. That was until Casey had called out to him, causing his body to pause in shock.

Casey wasn't Ryker who cut off his hand.

Lucas kept reminding himself of that fact. But Casey's gaze was all too familiar, even if Ryker had turned to ashes, he would still recognize it.

His body trembled uncontrollably, and he subconsciously covered his prosthetic hand.

Casey noticed his movement towards his right hand, triggering a flood of memories; pinning a man to the ground, twisting his wrist, and without hesitation, plunging a sharp pair of scissors into his hand. Casey shuddered, the unfamiliar memory leaving him in cold sweat.

Why did he know this man's name? Why did he know about his prosthetic hand? He was certain this was the first time he had met him.

But was it really the first time?

Casey started to doubt himself.

A sudden headache hit him, as if something was trying to force its way into his brain. The plane hadn't even taken off yet, but he felt the world spinning around him, causing him to feel nauseous. Casey's pale face was dripping with cold sweat. His mind felt like it was being stretched to its limit, ready to burst. He gripped the armrest tightly, his knuckles turning white as he trembled.

Ever since Casey boarded the plane, he had drawn the attention of the flight attendants, especially the stewardesses. They kept sneaking glances at him, feigning ignorance about his celebrity status, and addressed him as sir.

"Sir, are you feeling alright? Do you need any help?"

Casey couldn't hear a word. His mind felt like it was filled with water, causing a ringing sound in his ears whenever he moved his head.

He tried to speak, but his throat was dry. He pressed his fingers against his temples, attempting to relieve the throbbing pain.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lucas stand up, seemingly heading for the restroom.

The plane hadn't taken off yet. Casey let out a breath and managed to say, "I'm fine. Don't worry about me. I just need to use the restroom."

The stewardess quickly stepped aside, allowing Casey to rise from his seat.

Lucas was oblivious to the attention he was drawing and followed Casey to the restroom.

He splashed his face with cold water in an attempt to clear his head. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he numbly told himself, "Stop thinking about it. People can't come back from the dead." Ryker was dead, just like Izabella; long gone.

After visiting the cemetery, Lucas had been investigating who had visited his parents' grave, but to no avail.

The person described by the local store owner didn't match Izabella's appearance, age, or height.

He and Presley Felton had collected Izabella's remains from the J City Police Station. He had watched as Izabella was sent into the crematorium, coming out as nothing more than a pile of ashes mixed with bone fragments.

Healthy people had beautiful white ashes, but Izabella's were tinged with black.

He had watched as Presley scattered her ashes into the sea. Brett was also present.

If Izabella had survived, Brett would have been the first to realize.

But in the years following Izabella's death, he heard that Brett, a big shot in business circle, had aged significantly, his hair turning white overnight. He was no longer the proud and arrogant man he once was. Izabella's death had changed many people.

Lucas had given up his old ways and was now an office worker. Presley and Amelia continued their research on cancer drugs, saving many people like Izabella who had stomach cancer. Even Jennifer, the maid Brett had hired to care for Izabella, had changed her profession and become a lawyer. The nanny, Tiara, retired and lived at home taking care of stray cats and dogs.

They were all making the world a better place in their own way, honoring Izabella's memory.

Lucas splashed his face with cold water again. His eyes were red from the water, making him look like he had been crying.

He wished people could come back to life. He had learned how to be a good brother, protecting his sister when she was bullied, fighting off the bad guys for her, believing in her unconditionally, and loving her with all his might.

A sister should be cherished and protected, not beaten and abandoned time and again.

Why had he only realized this after Izabella's death? It was too late, and God didn't give him a chance to make amends.

Lucas tried not to think about these things, but seeing Casey today had brought back a flood of memories. After splashing his face with cold water, he felt much better.

He glanced at his phone. The plane was about to take off; he needed to hurry back.

The moment the door swung open, Lucas was met with someone, causing him to stumble backwards.

Before he could react, Casey pushed him back inside, the door slamming shut behind them.

Casey pinned Lucas against the wall, his close proximity leaving Lucas flustered, hands hanging awkwardly by his side.

Eyes squinted, Casey studied him, his familiarity growing, "You seem scared of me?"

For sure, his hand was hurting. How could he not be scared?

Casey noted the expression on Lucas' face.

"It's artificial." It wasn't a question. He seemed to know from the start.

"Do you know me?" Casey asked.

"Don't you know me too?" What was with this pretense?

"So, should I know you?" Casey responded.

Lucas' heart, initially pounding with fear, started to calm down. He could tell if someone meant him harm, and right now, Casey looked more confused than threatening, as though he was stuck in a puzzle he couldn't solve.

Was Casey the same Ryker who had cut off his hand?

Casey released him abruptly, stepping back, "Can you tell me how you lost your hand?"

"You're nuts. Why would I share my personal business with a stranger?"

Casey responded calmly, "I'm just curious. I don't recall ever meeting you, yet I know your name. And I seem to know how you lost your hand."

On hearing this, Lucas was taken aback. With so many people in the world, having a similar face was one thing, but having the same experiences and memories?

Lucas may not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but he wasn't dumb either. He quickly realized something was off and came to a conclusion.

Casey was Ryker, the man who had severed his hand. They were one and the same.

He didn't remember now, which only confirmed it.

Lucas swallowed, "You have amnesia? You don't remember your past?"

"I have amnesia?"

Lucas didn't wish to engage any further. The best scenario would be if Casey had lost his memory. Ever since his right hand was maimed, Casey had been a constant nightmare for him. For Lucas, Casey's amnesia was a blessing.

"Whether you have amnesia or not, it's none of my business. I'm leaving." Lucas couldn't even meet Casey's eyes as he spoke.

Casey realized that Lucas knew something. The answers were right in front of him, and he just needed to uncover them. There was no need to miss out.

"If you dare to leave, I'll break your other hand."

Lucas, scared stiff, stuttered a protest, "Are you crazy? This is a public place, and you're a public figure. Do you still want to have a career if you touch me here?"

"I just want to tell you. I'll do whatever it takes to get what I want." The last words were uttered in a low, threatening tone.

"Did I cripple your right hand?"

Realizing there was no chance to escape, Lucas conceded, "The one who damaged my hand was a man named Ryker."

Ryker again?

First it was Izabella, now Lucas. He seemed to be constantly linked with this guy named Ryker.

His head started to ache again, Casey gritted his teeth, "How was your hand broken? Tell me the process."

Recalling his painful past wasn't just reopening healed wounds, but pouring salt on them.

While Casey didn't care about his feelings, he only cared about the truth.

He shot Lucas an icy glare, which made the latter stutter the reply, "It was twisted off, and then..."

It was exactly as he thought. Suddenly, Casey gripped Lucas' neck, not hurting him, just restraining him.

"Why did Ryker want to cut off your hand?" Casey's voice was low, his gaze sharp, piercing into Lucas, "Speak!"

"Because I sold my sister into a gambling den. I let her get hurt! I abandoned her!" She was right behind him, begging him not to leave her, yet he left without hesitation.

The thought of his past made Lucas' eyes well up with tears. The guilt was overwhelming. If he could go back, he would never have left her alone. His crippled hand was his just deserts.

Casey released his grip on Lucas' neck, stumbling back to his seat. It felt like he had just woken from a dream, feeling dizzy, disoriented, unsure of his surroundings.

It was fifteen hours until they would reach R City; every minute was torture.

The stewardess, noticing his paleness, came over to check on him.

Casey didn't hear her. He only managed to mumble a word, "Water."

"Would you like some water, sir?"

Casey nodded, and she quickly fetched him a cup.

Trembling Casey accepted the cup, water sloshing out as he took a large gulp, choking in the process. He refused any assistance, finishing the water before setting the cup aside and closing his eyes.

He had never wanted to see Izabella so urgently.

At that moment, he felt as though he had experienced multiple lifetimes, the confused memories in his mind becoming clearer, while the

memories he thought were real were

becoming vague, like a mirage.

Casey's head throbbed with pain, his jaw clenched as he bore it, unaware of the cold sweat trickling down his face.

From then on, he became stewardess' important person to take care of. As she passed by Casey, she heard him mumbling.

"How could I forget?"