I often wondered what my life would have been if I was normal like other people in the world. If anything, it would have been downright boring, not to mention tedious. I wouldn't have possessed this ambitious streak inside me; neither would I be such an interesting person.

You see, when you're diagnosed with anti-social personality disorder, (a polite term for borderline psychopathy), things are relatively easier for you for many reasons. I wasn't scared of situations, people, or the outcomes of my decisions. Throughout the years, I'd done proper research about my disorder; around one percent of the general population was a psychopath. I'd come to learn that if I wanted to live in society and continue to fool others, I had to act normal and keep those demons locked away.

A handful of people in my life knew the real me, the rest—either thought I was insane or charming. My mother, Kiara, had been a constant source of support and if it hadn't been for her guiding, and conditioning me to the man I was today, things probably could have turned out worse.

Victoria was one of the people who knew about me, and who had tried—in vain, to try and repair me.

That's where she'd gone wrong. I wasn't a drug addict or an alcoholic who could get better through therapy and regular visits at the shrink. It was almost like calling out a shark for being murderous and train him to become a dolphin.

You cannot expect a person with my disorder to act out of his nature. A lion will be a hunter and a deer will forever remain a prey, and never the other way round.

A knock at the door disrupted my train thoughts, "Enter."

It was my mother who walked inside the room, carrying a newspaper in her hand. She looked even better than I'd seen her last when she visited London. Her short dark hair tied in a bun. She was wearing a loose satin top over denim, diamonds studs glimmered in her ears and neck. When she saw me sitting behind my father's desk, she stopped dead in her tracks.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

Something crossed in her features that I wasn't really sure what to make of, "Mom?"

She recovered quickly and smiled. "You looked like Jasper sitting there in his desk, it just..."

"It scared you." I knew it.

Everyone said I looked exactly like Jasper, my father. Over the years, Mom had been a victim to Dad's mental abuse; he'd tricked, manipulated and made sure she never left his life, often resorting to blackmail. At least, I had a chance to escape the imposing man when I left to study in London, but mom had stayed behind.

She gave me a tight smile. "He looked exactly like you when he was your age. It brings back memories."

Memories that she'd rather erase from her mind.

I stopped scribbling in the file and looked at her. "You have nothing to be scared of because I'm nothing like Dad and I have to thank you for it."

She closed the door of the study behind her. "You used to come here and draw all over his office papers with your crayons." She laughed, "And no matter how many times I forbade you from coming here, you ended up sneaking in. Do you remember?"

I smiled politely at her, "Yes, I remember. I also recall hiding under this very desk while he beat you up. I haven't forgotten, Mom."

She went silent; so much for trying to act like a normal family. That was the problem with us Lockharts, we played pretense very well, almost fooled people into thinking we were a happy, wealthy, privileged family.

She stepped closer and came to stand beside me. Almost hesitantly ran her fingers through my hair; touching me with such slowness as if a gesture out of motherly love would force me to hit her repeatedly. "You're the only reason that kept me going, honey, so I have to thank you."

"Do you wish I never existed?" I asked. "Do you wish you had a normal son?"

Tears glistened in her eyes as she shook her head. "I like you the way you are."

"Even if I'm insane?"

"You're just a little different, never insane." She kissed the top of my head, the drops of her tears dampening my hair, "My good boy."

Gingerly, she placed a newspaper on the Rosewood paneled desk in front of me. The newspaper headline caught my eye.

President of the Lockhart Enterprise Jasper Lockhart missing? Or killed in a family conspiracy? Will son Tyler Lockhart take over father's position as the CEO and President of the multi-billion dollar company?

Turn to page A12 to find out.

I took the paper, folded it and threw it into the wastebasket. "You didn't even read the article." Mom pointed out.

"Why should I waste my time reading something I already know?" I asked. "The media likes to make up stories, it's their job. You pay them a few thousand bucks; they'd write what you want them to."

"There were some hikers speculating that they found Jasper's body beneath some mountain in Colorado."

"If that were true I'd like to see the body, and then maybe throw a grand fucking party later tonight."

"He's your father!" She said almost irritated. "And watch your language with me."

I smiled. There she was the threatening side of my mom. "Do you think he's kidnapped?"

I picked up a cherry from the bowl on the desk and popped it into my mouth. "Tell you what, if someone calls for a ransom, I'll talk to them."

"And what would you say?" She asked.

"I'll write them a cheque, and offer another five million." I assured my mother, then added, "And ask them to keep Jasper Lockhart with them."

I heard mom sigh. "I should have known that's how you'd react."

I laughed. "What do you want me to do? Make a public appearance on the seven p.m news and beg for him to come back? Besides, this is not the first time that he has run away from responsibilities, he has done it before. He probably has another wife tucked away somewhere and a bastard child for all we know."

"Tyler!" Mom shrieked.

She hated him, but the thought of Dad having another family secretly infuriated her.

"When I was younger, I actually kinda wished, no, I dreamed that he had an affair somewhere, that he would leave us for another family but it just never happened. Now I wish those hikers are being serious. You'll live better as a widow, trust me."

The sound of the scribbles on the paper filled the silence. After a few seconds, I heard the door shut with a loud bang.

I had absolutely no time to run behind Mom who seemed hurt with the bitter truth. I had more pressing matters at hand; to find out who was playing with the company finances while dad had packed and left. Why was an ample amount of money sanctioned from the bank? And most importantly, who was behind sabotaging the name of the Lockhart's Enterprises?

If that wasn't enough, my thoughts appeared to be more scattered since I'd seen the silver-haired vixen, or shall I say an angel? I remembered how she used to react when I called her that. To me, she'd been nothing less than that.

My friend, my saving grace and my weakness, all wrapped up in a deadly package.

When I came home from the party last night, I'd never thought I'd lose something because unlike my sister, Hazel, I was more responsible when it came to taking care of my personal belongings and the last thing I wanted was to lose my most favorite Moon hairpin that was a decade old. It wasn't that the hairpin was expensive, or studded with diamonds. But the story behind it counted.

The hairpin was from my dad.

I called Kevin to ask him if he'd seen any hair accessories left in his room or somewhere else in the house but he said he hadn't. He offered to check his house once again for me. When I was cooking dinner in the evening, I tried to walk myself through the entire party in my head, every single place I'd been to.

And then it came back to me.

When Tyler was talking to me in the bathroom, he'd taken the hairpin out of my hair. I was too distracted to notice, but it was possible that he'd taken it with him.

My fingers tightened around the knife as I chopped the bell pepper.

Tyler and his antics. One could grow mature when they turned into an adult, but it was different in Tyler's case. He was still the same; Playful and immature.

"What's wrong, Vicky? You're murdering the poor vegetable." Hazel commented when she entered the kitchen. "Ohhh you have the serial killer eyes going on right now."

She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a Diet Coke. I really didn't understand the point of drinking diet coke if she was going to eat everything unhealthy with that, like the large bag of flaming hot Cheetos she munched on.

"Have you ever thought of killing one of the Lockharts, Haze?"

She shook her head, "That's your job, you have a bloodlust for Tyler Lockhart, don't you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

The knife plunged splat into a tomato.

Since Mom was visiting our grandfather's house for a week, Hazel and I were the only ones alone at home. Archer had done culinary school in France and was currently working there in a seven-star hotel as a chef. He aspired to open a restaurant here in Cold-Bay and was supposed to come home next month. He and I Facetimed every alternate day. If he came to know that Tyler was back in town, he'd probably go nuts.

I couldn't wait until morning to find out if my hairpin was taken by Tyler or not. I didn't even have his new number so calling him was impossible. Hazel was sprawled in the living room and gobbling up the dinner. I told her where I was going and saw the smirk she passed me. I rolled my eyes.

"Take some condoms." She suggested before I stepped out of the house.

"What for?"

"You're going to Tyler's aren't you? You'll probably need them."

"Why is everyone assuming we'll get back together as soon as he's back in town?"

She snorted, "You don't need to get back together just to have sex, Vicky. It can be a no-strings-attached thing."

"None of that is going to happen."

"My dear sister, everyone in the party thinks you and Tyler were doing something in Kevin's room, including Kevin."

"I don't care what anyone thinks, but we didn't do anything."

Our old house used to be walking distance from the Lockhart's mansion but now that we'd moved into a smaller one; it took about fifteen minutes to reach there. The mansion was in the heart of Cold-Bay surrounded by lush greenery and a lake. After Tyler had moved to London, I rarely visited the mansion and I came only when Tyler's younger sister, Maya threw some of her lavish parties.

As usual, a maid opened the door. She was a short, dark-haired maid with eyes like buttons, "Yes, miss?"

"Is Tyler here?"

Her eyes widened because I suspected no one called him by his first name anymore. More like 'His majesty, His highness, His grace, etc', (note the sarcasm).

"Um, he's busy in the study upstairs. Mr. Lockhart has instructed me not to let visitors disturb him at this hour. He's not interested to be entertained tonight." She was being polite but I could notice the hostile undertone to it.

Entertained? I knew just the kind of entertainment that amused him. Did this maid think I was a call-girl?

"Relax. I'm his friend Victoria. Why don't you run upstairs and tell him I'm down here?"

The maid was still unsure. "Wait here, Miss. I will check with Mr. Lockhart." I didn't miss the way she did some eye communication with the other maid as if leaving me alone would result in missing silver.

A minute later, she informed me that I was allowed to see Tyler.

I climbed the stairs and headed towards his father's study. When I opened the door, I saw him sitting behind the massive rosewood desk going through some paperwork. I stopped dead in my tracks because I wasn't walking in with that other thing with him.

"Vicky," Tyler said cheerfully, "Kinda started to wonder if you would notice it gone missing."

Jasper Lockhart's study was a large room with ceiling to floor bookshelves covering one area, an antique gramophone right next to it and lavish leather sofa set dominating the center. One side of the office was an open view of the lake across the mansion. The floor covered in plush rugs. When Tyler and I were kids, we used to sneak in here and read some books. I'd found his father to be particularly daunting, with unfriendly blue eyes and a serious face. Tyler seemed like a mirror version of his sire, only Tyler's eyes were more playful and even warm.

Right now I wasn't intimidated by him because I was more disturbed by the large brown-yellow Blood-python coiled around his neck. The snake turned to face me and hissed.

"Basilisk, you remember Victoria, don't you?" Tyler cooed at the snake lounging around his neck like a damned scarf.

"Tyler you knew that hairpin is important to me, why did you take it?" I asked from the doorway, sometimes I wondered if he did this on purpose so people would stop bothering him.

"Correction, the pin was lying in the bathroom; I decided to keep it for you." He said.

"Well, now I'm here. I want it back."

He smiled coyly, the fat snake slithered all over his shoulders and moved to into his hair. "It's in my bedroom. I'll give it to you if you follow me."

"I'm not coming into your bedroom. I'm going to stand right here and you go fetch it for me."

"You will follow me to my room and find it yourself or you can assume I lost the hairpin."

I gave out a frustrated yelp. "Fine! I'll go find it myself!"

Everything was a game to Tyler. I could bet my life this was another one of those stupid games that he liked to play. I'd kill myself before I let this man get to me.

He could play whatever games he liked, but this time I was going to win it.