You're My Only Star

Chapter Seven: The Lavish Lifestyle

Another week in the hospital…

The most astonishing part of my recovery, according to the doctors was how I am able to control my anxiety around cars. It would have been an expected reaction if I freaked out or had flashbacks of the accident and murder attempt, the moment I came into contact with a vehicle.

But when the black bulletproof Jeep appeared, with four more bodyguards flanking an alert, but weary-looking Woo Bin, I didn’t have any attack, simply got into the car, and we drove off.

“…and so I decided to cancel out your plans, schedules, and commitments for the next three weeks… will that be enough time for you to get back on your feet? Well, given the circumstances I should say the healing process might take longer. And then there’s also the issue of your own safety. Will you be safe back home?” Manager Oh droned on.

I was only partly listening to her, because my thoughts wandered back to the conversation I had with the police officers at the hospital. Apparently, no traces of the culprits were found, and the car that almost smashed me to death had no license plate, and registration. However, they were still looking into it and I hung on to that thin rope of hope that they might catch whoever is trying to kill me.

Well, Amelia to be precise, but you get it.

“Three weeks is okay, Manager Oh. I’ll be okay with my… family.” I replied.

The word ‘family’ itself felt foreign to me. Whenever I hear it, or say it, the first person that comes to mind is automatically always Boomi. But now the picture had morphed, and I could see the possibility of a mother and sister coming into focus. Amelia’s father had died almost four years ago; a news that made the rounds in the newspapers because he had been a rich business tycoon who lost all of his fortune and fell from grace.

“We’re here. Inspect the perimeter.” Woo Bin spoke into the little device hooked into his ear.

I craned my neck to steal a glance at the skyscraper building in front of me. I had seen it countless times in magazines, and had been there twice myself to interview a celebrity, but the awe and amazement the mere sight of it caused never faded.

Hotel Astra…

There was something so enchanting about it that made you look, and look again at all of the structures promising wealthy comfort and lavish glamour. From the most expensive penthouse suite at the very top where you could even see clouds below you, to the cheapest basement rooms that offered privacy and minimalist relaxation, Hotel Astra was basically a glimpse of how well money can buy luxury.

As excited as a schoolgirl, I jumped out the car when Woo Bin finally opened it for me and hightailed into the hotel, with Manager Oh, Woo Bin, and four other bodyguards catching up to me.

The lobby itself looked like a million bucks. And to think as Amelia, I had a virtually permanent suite in this hotel… I couldn’t wait to bring Boomi here.

“Oh! Amelia… I heard what happened. I’m very glad you’re feeling better already!” A young woman greeted, linking my arm with hers, an award-winning smile on her face. Two pearl-drops of diamond earrings were gracefully suspended on both sides of her ears.

Manager Oh was about to step in and explain that I had lost part of my memory, but I quickly signaled her not to, and fortunately, she understood the look I gave her.

“Thank you for your concerns, Unni. The doctors just told me to rest.” I replied with a bright smile, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before politely unhooking it from my arm.

“Eh? What’s this? What changed our little devil? You never call me Unni.” The woman replied, obviously pleased at the respectable term of ‘older sister’ I had used on her, but also a bit confused. “It was always Mrs. Han…” she added.

Crap.

“Well, I realized it was time for some change since I did survive almost being poisoned to death.”

Mrs. Han erupted into a high-pitched laughter that sounded more like the cackle of an old witch. “Humor, for once! I like it. I’ll leave you to it then darling.” She said after catching her breath.

A brief exchange of pleasantries with Manager Oh later, she sauntered off, her red-bottom heels going click clack on the spotless milky tiles.

I turned to Manager Oh.

“That was Mrs. Han Mi Ra. Her husband is cofounder of P.O.S Entertainment, and you’ve always been close formal acquaintances. Although not close enough for jokes…” She briefed me while staring back at the retreating figure of Mrs. Han with something quite similar to distaste.

“This way please Miss…” Woo Bin instructed; probably thinking that idling around the lobby wasn’t the best for security purposes.

I shrugged and followed behind him, with Manager Oh keeping in step with me and four bodyguards behind us, inspecting the hotel for any sign of distrustful activity like they were escorting a VIP.

“What floor do I live in?” I directed the question at Manager Oh, once we had all stepped into the fancy elevator.

“On the fifty-sixth…”

That was really high. Hopefully, there weren’t any large transparent windows to offer a cool view because I had a crippling fear of heights.

The thoughts of heights and windows were soon forgotten as I unlocked the door with my thumbprint, and stepped in. Three of my old apartment could fit into it, and this was only the sitting-room.

Everything, and I mean everything, down to the very white and wilted roses placed in a transparent jar was color-coded. The curtains obstructing the view but allowing the sunlight to stream in were white, and so was all furniture in the sitting room. This did nothing to lessen the appearance of grandeur and if even possible, only worked to add more class and uniqueness to the space.

“Everything is so… white.” I breathed.

“Well, you love monochrome.” Manager Oh replied with a low and somewhat mocking giggle.

I paid no attention to it and simply moved into a corridor, which led me to a door at the very end. On opening the door, my astonishment became even more prominent, because now everything contrasted to the sitting room.

Everything in the bedroom was completely black. The sheets, the curtains, the large built-in wardrobe, and even the small lamp on the bedside table… all black.

What struck me as weird wasn’t just the change of colors, but the organization of the apartment. Everywhere was neat and spotless, not even showing proof that someone lived there.

Hadn’t Amelia left this same apartment for Vincent’s concert? Where was the makeup items, the stray clothing pieces, the crooked remote, the gum wrapper, the half-drunk bottle of water or the empty plate of food or take-away?

“Did anyone come in to clean while I was away?” I asked Manager Oh who had followed me into the room.

“No. This whole suite can’t be accessed without your thumbprint.”

“Is she… Am I always this neat then?”

Manager Oh glanced at me with a masked expression and a professional smile. “I’m quite surprised too. Usually it looks like a runway changing-room, especially before one of Vincent’s concert. But it’s… clean and organized.” She agreed.

An uncomfortable chill ran down my spine, at the same time a sharp pain hammered into my forehead, and I staggered back with a wild cry, clutching my forehead and trying to find my balance.

“Are you… Amelia… you… okay…” Manager Oh was saying, but her voice faded into the background of my screams, accompanied by a loud ringing in my ears.

My head felt like it was being ripped apart from the inside, and I felt that same sensation of floating again, and being ripped away from Amelia’s body.

A moment later, it all stopped, but the scene had changed somehow. I now stood floating, like a ghost, unable to see my own body, and Manager Oh was nowhere to be found.

I caught something in my peripheral vision.

The real Amelia, stacking a letter into her drawer and wiping away one lone tear. “This is goodbye…” And I felt the rip in my heart widen. Her resolve, and determination on a deed so sad gripped me hard, like the intentions were my own, and their intensity were so strong, causing my eyes rolled back into their sockets, as I tried to resist the compelling urge.

“One, two… breathe! It’s just a panic attack; you don’t have to call the medics… Don’t cause a damn scene she’ll be fine… Amelia, are you… Breathe!”

I gasped, like a person submerged in water for too long, and taking a greedy gulp of oxygen.

Another memory…

I just remembered another of Amelia’s memories, and one thing was for certain. On the night of April fourth, twenty nineteen, Amelia had left for Vincent’s concert with an unshakable resolve to commit suicide.

Did she succeed? Is that what led me here?

Who really poisoned Amelia?