"I'll contact you when the time comes," Hannah whispered, her voice close to his ear. "Wait for me."

Ralph stared at her in shock, as if seeing her for the first time. Hannah bit her lip and whispered again, "Trust me, I'm Annie." After a moment's pause, she tiptoed to lightly kiss his cheek before swiftly turning and striding away.

Ralph was dumbfounded. He touched his cheek, long after she disappeared, wondering if he was hallucinating. The key in his hand, however, grounded him in reality. 'Why didn't she hit or laugh at me? Instead, she kissed me and gave me shelter,' he mused, looking at the key. 'Is this another one of her tricks? Annie?' Initially, he'd thought it a sweet nickname, one that instantly rendered "Heather" gentle and obedient. But the last two times had proved otherwise; she'd even attacked him. He no longer believed it.

Calling a woman a nickname was useless if she was mentally ill; it wasn't like commanding a robot. Her current behavior suggested either another trick or a schizophrenic episode. Neither outcome benefited him. He sighed, briefly considering discarding the key, before pocketing it.

He left dejectedly, the housekeepers in the yard casting judging glances as he got into his car. He couldn't hear their whispers, but he easily guessed their content: laughter at his expense.

'Laugh all you want. I'm the laughingstock of the world anyway!'

He angrily honked the horn, startling those nearby. He sped away, unable to bear another second in that place. Everything familiar felt ironic.

He wandered the streets, lost and directionless, unsure where to go, what to do, or even how to face the next day. His entire life had been one of privilege; the Russells had clothed, fed, and pampered him. He'd been born, quite literally, with a silver spoon in his mouth.

Shortly after, a charity approached him, requesting a donation for children in impoverished mountain areas. He contemptuously replied that people were born unequal and that they should blame him for being born into the wrong family. He felt he'd made the right choices, been born into a good family, and that everything had fallen into place, the only disruption being Alexander, his troublesome nephew.

He'd never expected to lose everything. 'Am I not a Russell? How can I not be my mother's son?!'

For as long as he could remember, he'd lived with the Russells, considered them his parents, and been the young master to the housekeepers. He'd attended the finest schools, and while others struggled to find employment, he'd already been a department manager in his family's company.

His life should have been smooth sailing, yet his mother had revealed he wasn't a Russell. 'Does that mean they'll take everything from me? No, that can't be! I will never accept it, even when I die!'