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broke her heart because he operated under the same rules as her mother. While her mother was panning for gold he was looking for a golden trophy to sit on his mantle. The truth was Madeline had been bought and paid for. The Winston diamond ring had sealed the deal.
    But then she had violated the contract by trying to add love to the deal.

    Shaw took center stage and handed Christopher a Canadian newspaper clipping with a picture of a bearded and mustached Russell next to the caption: Do you know this man?
    â€œDenitra and I came across this article while visiting some of her relatives a couple of weeks ago.”
    Mystery man has refused to speak since he was found wandering near Nova Scotia coast. The mysterious man seemed unable to answer the simplest questions about who he is or where he comes from.
    Christopher glanced up at his brother, unable to imagine what he must have been through these past years. “What happened?” he couldn’t help but ask.
    â€œI don’t know,” Russell answered truthfully. “I don’t know how I got there or even anyone discovering me. I only remember the hospital,” he said.
    â€œThe hospital?” Christopher turned back to Shaw.
    â€œYes. An elderly couple noticed him wandering out there and called the authorities. When the authorities were unable to get any answers out of him, he was taken to Queen Elizabeth Hospital. Their social services are the one’s who had contacted the newspaper.”
    â€œSo you don’t know where you’ve been for the past six years?”
    Again Russell shook his head. “I’ve tried to remember. But every time I do, I suffer severe migraines.”
    â€œHe also has a lot of old scars on his body,” Shaw interjected. “He’s been in some type of accident. That’s for sure.”
    Christopher stood. “Show me.”
    Uncomfortable with so many pointed gazes in his direction, Russell still climbed to his feet and pulled up his shirt. A round of audible gasps surrounded him as they all peered at his battered and scarred body.
    â€œThe plane crash,” Christopher whispered as he approached and inspected a few jagged scars up close. “Is that how you got those?”
    Russell just looked haplessly at his brother. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”
    Christopher nodded, and then broke out with a wide grin. “What’s important is you’re home now.” He wrapped him in another quick embrace.”
    Russell was overwhelmed.
    Once word of his reappearance hit the grapevine, people poured through Christopher’s door. There was a constant flow of men and women who claimed to be friends and relatives. They all tried to get him to remember their names and events. They would ask if he remembered where they did so-and-so, or that such-and-such was so funny when he was a child, a teenager, or a grown man who should have known better.
    It also surprised him how many women slipped cards into his hands or pockets with suggestions that they could pick up where they’d left off—whatever that was supposed to mean.
    But through all the plastic smiles an awkward laughs, his mind kept wandering back to Madeline. The picture in Shaw’s file hardly did the woman justice. Now that he’d seen her—touched her, he desperately wanted to remember everything about her.
    Somewhere around 2:00 a.m. Christopher finally responded to Russell’s visible exhaustion and led him to one of the vacant guestrooms. In his opinion the room was as big as a studio apartment, complete with a king-size, oak bed with gold silk sheets. On the walls, an eclectic mix of African art surrounded him, as well as an impressive flat-screen television.
    â€œI hope the room is satisfactory,” Christopher said, carrying Russell’s lone, leather duffel bag in behind them.
    â€œIt’s…” he looked around again “…it’s more than