Chapter 5: The Paper Trail
The soft hum of Killian's luxury car filled the silence as they drove away from the event. Elara stared out the tinted window, her reflection barely visible against the city lights.
"You handled Vivian well," Killian said, not looking at her.
"She deserved worse," Elara muttered.
He let out a quiet chuckle. "You really don't like to be second."
She turned to face him. "Is that why you chose me for this little contract? Because I'm not afraid to fight back?"
"I chose you," he said coolly, "because you already had something to lose."
Her stomach twisted. "What did I lose?"
Killian's knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. "You'll remember eventually."
Back at the penthouse, Elara kicked off her heels and made a beeline for the office she'd spotted on her first day. It was locked—but nothing stayed locked forever. A little digging through the guest room drawers had revealed a spare key labeled "K.B."
She slipped it into the door.
Click.
The room was pristine—mahogany desk, silver MacBook, neat folders stacked by color. But what caught her eye was the locked drawer beneath the desk.
She tugged once. Twice. It didn't budge.
Then her gaze fell on a small digital safe nestled on a shelf behind her.
She tried a few obvious guesses. Birthdate? No. Her name? Definitely not.
On a whim, she typed: E-L-A-R-A
Beep.
Green light.
The drawer popped open.
Inside were papers—lots of them. Legal documents, a wedding contract… and something that made her breath catch.
A hospital file.
Her name.
Elara Monroe – Confidential Medical Record
Trauma Evaluation – Memory Loss
Date: Two Months Ago
She dropped the folder like it burned her.
Killian knew she'd lost her memory.
And he'd used it.
She barely heard the door open behind her.
"I told you to start where it hurts," he said, voice quiet.
She turned, eyes blazing. "You knew. You knew and you didn't tell me."
"I was protecting you."
"No," she snapped. "You were protecting yourself."
He stepped forward. "You asked for this. Before the accident—you begged me to help you destroy someone. And you said this marriage would do it."
"And you just agreed?" she spat. "No one agrees to a marriage out of pity."
He was silent. Then:
"It wasn't pity."
The look in his eyes wasn't cold this time.
It was something else.
Guilt. Or maybe… something even more dangerous.