Chapter 98 Albert Told Me About My Past: The Truth of My Amnesia and Albert's Confession

Elena Garcia's POV:

I motioned for Albert to check out the scene, but he just shrugged and told me to chill.

The lounge was packed with people socializing, definitely not the place for us to stay and talk.

After some searching, we found a balcony connected to the banquet hall. It was empty, giving us some privacy.

I looked at Albert and said, "Sofia thinks I stole you from her, and she might take it out on you."

"What could she possibly do to me?" Albert took a sip of his champagne, looking unfazed. Before I could respond, he continued, "Tell James and Isabella about our relationship? Didn't you already tell Isabella?"

Albert frowned and brushed Noah's hand off my shoulder. "Hey, there's no need to fake it now!"

Noah mumbled something under his breath and quickly got distracted by something else nearby, his ears twitching—a sign he was eavesdropping, which was kind of funny.

We both knew Noah was listening in, but neither of us called him out.

I looked at Albert, feeling a bit awkward. Since we got here, Albert had been sticking with me and Noah, instead of flirting with the pretty girls around. It was unusual. He seemed to dislike the party even more than I did—maybe he disliked the Garcia family?

I suddenly remembered that when we first met, he was standing with James and Sofia, looking impatient.

That was an expression he would never normally show as I knew he, a cheerful playboy, always wore a smile as his mask.

Only when he saw Noah and me did his expression change to surprise, then relaxation, back to his usual self, which made me overlook the oddities.

"But what if she lies to James or Isabella about you? That could make them angry and cause you trouble." I frowned, watching Albert's indifferent demeanor.

Albert looked at me, realizing I was concerned about him. His expression became slightly more serious, and he sighed, "Alright, I know you're worried about me, but trust me, I can handle it. It's within my expectations. I already know the worst they can do to me, but it won't affect me, so I don't care."

I noticed Albert's choice of words—he didn't care. It was a strange way to put it.

When facing accusations from loved ones, especially false ones, no one could truly say they didn't care.

Not caring implied acceptance, but most people only said that about strangers they didn't care about.

This meant James and Isabella weren't close to Albert.

"I just remembered. I haven't told you what happened after you angrily told Isabella about Sofia and me," Albert said to me.

I nodded cautiously, standing up straight. I sensed that what Albert was about to say was important.

"Isabella yelled at me, accusing me of forcing Sofia, and said some harsh things." Albert's mood darkened as he spoke of that, his fingers turning white from gripping the champagne glass too tightly.

But he still forced a smile to me.

He didn't reveal what Isabella said to him, but told me about the punishment she gave him.

Albert uttered, "Then she kicked me out of the Garcia Manor. She wanted to disown me and declared that Sofia was her only child."

It sounded heartbreaking.

Albert might be a playboy, but what happened between him and Sofia wasn't entirely his fault. Isabella shouldn't blame everything on him. He was her child too, and no matter how much she trusted Sofia, she shouldn't hurt Albert.

"That's ridiculous!" I clenched my fists.

I could understand that James and Isabella were harsh on me, because we hadn't lived together for long. My past didn't include soft beds, etiquette lessons, or fancy dresses. My life was too distant for those who had lived in abundance. They couldn't empathize with my pain and held stereotypes and prejudice toward me.

But Albert had been living in the Garcia Manor since he was little. How could Isabella kick him out without a second thought?

I gritted out, "Isabella can't do this to you! How can she be so foolish, letting Sofia manipulate her without any doubt?"

Albert shook his head at me. "Of course she can. Because if she doesn't, it would mean admitting a certain mistake."

"What?" I was confused, not understanding Albert's point.

But instead of explaining, Albert asked me a question, "Elena, tell me, do you still have any expectations for the Garcia family?"

"I don't know." I frowned. "Does this have anything to do with what you're saying?"

Albert nodded and explained, "Remember our argument in the garden? When you found out about Sofia and me, you said if I wanted you to leave the Garcia Manor, I could just say so. I said you misunderstood, but I didn't explain."

"Yes, I remember." That argument was unpleasant. I thought Albert's kindness toward me was because of Marco as he worked for Marco.

I thought Albert was deceiving me, letting Sofia play me for a fool. I felt like a joke in his eyes. He helped me but also watched me get bullied, a confusing contradiction.

Now he was going to explain his subtle attitude towards me.

Albert then continued, "If I could go back in time, I would take back those words in the garden and loudly tell you, 'Yes, I do want you to leave the Garcia Manor.'"

I was left stunned by his words, my mind feeling like it had been hit by a lightning bolt, unable to think.

Albert admitted he never welcomed me back, which was too cruel. I tried to steady myself, but my breathing became rapid.

"Albert, take that back! You're being too harsh!" Noah, who had been eavesdropping, couldn't help but interject. When angry, his expression resembled Marco's.

"That's my true feeling." Albert refused, staring intently at me.

I must have looked terrible because Noah's anger turned to worry when he looked at me. He cursed the Garcia family, calling them shameless, and reached out to take me away.

I shook my head and looked at Albert, questioning, "Why?"

This reason was important to me, and I thought it was important to Albert too. I needed an explanation.

Albert took a deep breath and said, "Because everyone in the Garcia family is as shameless as Noah said. You grew up in the rough neighborhoods of Chicago, but your foster mother raised you well. You grew up with love, even though you think your past was terrible—I'm not judging your past from a high horse; it's just that everyone's pain is different. But to me, your past had something I could never have, so I see it as lucky and happy."

I frowned deeply, puzzled. "I still don't understand."

Albert remarked, "Listen to me, and you will."

In Albert's story, everyone in the Garcia family was a shameless jerk, including himself.

It was a story from long ago, before I ended up in the orphanage, back when I was still with the Garcia family.

James was a business-obsessed man, deeply immersed in his career, leaving all the child-rearing responsibilities to Isabella.

Isabella, impatient and only interested in pleasure, never liked children and had no plans for them in her life.

Initially, she thought having children was no different from getting rid of unnecessary waste, just like how every woman going through their period each month. This belief made her think pregnancy and childbirth wouldn't affect her. However, this changed when she gained weight from pregnancy and lost her figure.

It took her a long time to regain her pre-pregnancy appearance, filling her with negative emotions and resentment towards her children, whom she blamed for her troubles.

To cope with these negative feelings, Isabella immersed herself in social activities and shopping, neglecting her children, and James was no better.

But fortunately, this didn't affect the two children.

"Maybe it only didn't affect you, Elena. I remember you being lively and energetic, always dragging me around to play as you thought I was always alone." Albert smiled as he recounted, as if those were cherished memories for him.

Albert went on, "When I was little, I didn't like to talk as a child, you even thought I was mute. To communicate with me, you insisted on learning sign language with me until I couldn't stand the lessons and your persistent pestering and I finally told you I wasn't mute."

In Albert's memories, his time with me was warm and happy. We were always together, going to school, playing games, eating, and sleeping together.

Even without our parents' company, I gave him all my love.

As a child, he should have sought love from his parents, but I filled that void, making him feel there was no problem.

Albert smiled bitterly, "It's a habit. When you're used to someone always being there for you, you don't realize how important they are until you lose them."

For Albert, it was just like that.

Albert said, "At that time, James needed to secure a business deal crucial for his promotion. The person he wanted to collaborate with was hosting a birthday party for his child. To make a connection, he brought Isabella and us, hoping to use the children's friendship to seal the deal. Unfortunately, it failed. The birthday boy was rude and didn't like me, so he pushed me. You pushed him back to protect me."

The children's conflict at the birthday party ruined James's deal. He berated Isabella for being a pleasure-seeking housewife who didn't teach the children manners. Isabella, unable to argue back, took her anger out on us.

Albert continued, "It was just a piece of cake. While shopping, I remembered the boy's taunt about never having a birthday cake and started crying, begging Isabella to buy me one. Isabella refused and left us on the street to teach us a lesson while she went to a café to relax. To fulfill my wish, you decided to buy me a cake and told me to stay put."

"I watched you cross the street to the cake shop, but I was still upset about not having a cake from my parents. The cake was a metaphor for what I lacked and wanted. So I turned and left to find Isabella, to continue asking for my cake. But you saw me leave, and what happened next still feels like a nightmare." Speaking of which, Albert lost the courage to meet my eyes, his voice weakening.

I knew what happened next. Seeing Albert leave, I didn't know he was going to find Isabella. Panicking, I tried to cross the street to stop him and got hit by a car.

Albert, terrified, saw me fell but ran away instead of coming to my side. That was our last meeting in childhood.

As Albert recounted, I thought he probably wanted to find Isabella for help, but she dismissed him, thinking he was still throwing a tantrum over the cake. She slapped him and told him to shut up.

She didn't realize how dangerous it was to leave two children on the street. She didn't care. The only thing she cared about was her interrupted afternoon tea.

By the time she realized I hadn't returned for a long time and Albert's words might be true, I had disappeared. No one knew where I went. Maybe the driver who hit me took me away after failing to find my family.

In any case, I was gone. After that, I ended up in the orphanage with amnesia and met my foster mother.

"To avoid blame, Isabella told James you ran away after a fight, and she couldn't stop you because she had to watch me." 

Albert revealed a sarcastic smile. In his sea-blue eyes, so similar to mine, a storm seemed to be brewing for many years. 

"It was a lousy lie. She had bodyguards; how could she not stop a child? But James didn't care. His only concern was his failed business deal; he originally wanted you to apologize to that boy. Your disappearance made everything awkward."

Albert continued, "But he quickly found a way to benefit from it, turning your disappearance into a show. He used it to apologize to his potential partner, who was moved by your disappearance, became more friendly, and changed his impression of James, thinking he was 'sincere.'"

Albert added, "Isabella also used your disappearance to improve her social image. Seeing her cry for you so sorrowfully, those women stopped gossiping about her neglecting her children. And I, out of guilt and fear, came to believe Isabella's lie. When asked, I testified that you ran away out of stubbornness."

After finishing his story, it was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He remained silent, waiting for my judgment. His face was ashen, as if bracing for my condemnation.