Damien sat in his study, the report on the Walker family spread across his desk. The details were disturbing, painting a portrait of desperation and greed. But one piece of the puzzle remained missing: Sarah's past. The report mentioned her adoption, a fact that raised more questions than it answered. Who was she before she became Sarah Walker? Where did she come from? He couldn't shake the feeling that Sarah's amnesia wasn't just a result of the accident; it was a convenient blank slate for the Walkers, a way for them to control her. He knew he had to find out.
He picked up the phone and called Marco. "Marco," he said, his voice low and determined, "I need you to dig into Sarah's adoption. The file said St. Michael's Orphanage, you should go there. It's where Sarah was adopted from. Find everything they have on her. Her birth name, her birth parents, any information about her life before the Walkers."
"Of course, Mr. Sterling," Marco replied. "I'll leave immediately."
Damien hung up the phone, a sense of urgency gnawing at him. He couldn't shake the feeling that time was running out. He had to uncover Sarah's past before the Walkers could solidify their hold on her, before they could use her vulnerability to their advantage.
Meanwhile, at the hospital, Sarah lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The visits from Chloe and Caroline were becoming all too overwhelming, and her conversation with Mathilda had shaken her to the core. She remembered Damien's face, his kind eyes, his gentle voice, the arms in which she felt safe. He was the only bright thing in this seemingly dark world around her. He was the only person she trusted, a feeling that defied logic and reason. She held the ring, Ethan's ring, the only tangible thing she had left of their past together. She knew his name, she knew he was her fiancé, but the memories, the feelings... they were elusive, like whispers on the wind. She felt like a puzzle with missing pieces, a story with missing chapters.
She closed her eyes, trying to conjure a memory, a face, a feeling. But all she found was a blank, an empty void where her past should be. She was lost, adrift in a world that was too foreign, too unfamiliar. And the only anchor she had was a whisper in her mind: "Trust me." A d that voice belonged to Damien Sterling.
Later that evening, Marco returned to Damien's study, a new file in his hands. "Mr. Sterling," he said, his voice grave, "I went to St. Michael's. They had very little information on Sarah. There was a fire at the orphanage twenty years ago; most of the records were destroyed. The woman who ran the orphanage at the time, Mrs. Shaw, is elderly and… well, her memory isn't what it used to be."
Damien's jaw tightened. "So, no birth name, no family history… nothing?"
"Nothing concrete, sir," Marco confirmed. "Just a note that she was left at the orphanage as a baby and that her father, I'm assuming the late William Walker, came to pick her up when she was 6 years old and brought her into the Walker family." Damien: "Is there any DNA report between Sarah and William that proves she's his daughter?"
Marco: "I'll dig deeper."
Damien exhaled slowly, the news a chilling confirmation of his fears. Sarah's past was a blank canvas, and he had to be the one to fill it with the truth. He thought of the ring , a symbol of a love she couldn't remember, a life she couldn't recall. He knew, with a chilling certainty, that he wouldn't rest until he uncovered the truth, the truth that would unlock Sarah's memories and reveal the woman she was meant to be.
"Any new clues on the accident?" Damien asked.
"We're retrieving footage from the hotel and surrounding buildings," Marco replied. "The tampering of the brakes must have happened when Ethan left his house to rescue Sarah that evening."
"The man they sold her to... You know how to deal with him," Damien said, his voice cold.
Marco replied, "Yes," his tone all too knowing, and left.
The next morning, Sarah started with her physical therapy. The nurse took her to the room, which was filled with equipment. She started exercising her leg. It was painful, but she was pushing toward improvement. As she was about to leave, she saw Sam Wellington in the hallway, emerging from a ward. They ran into each other. He saw her and a boyish grin spread across his face.
"Oh, it's you. Trying to run away again?" he teased.
"How did you know I was trying to run away that day?" Sarah asked.
"I'm psychic," Sam replied, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
Sarah just rolled her eyes at him, but she couldn't help but smile. The playful banter between them felt natural. As she was about to leave, he called out, "Hey, don't you want to know my name?"
"Why would I want to know your name?" she retorted.
"Well, you did hit me with your wheelchair the other day. Don't you feel like you should be responsible for me now?"
"What? But I didn't hurt you."
"I don't have any physical injuries, but I do have emotional ones." She rolled her eyes at him and turned away to leave.
He ran in front of her wheelchair and said "Okay, okay… I'm teasing you." He approached her and stretched out his hand. "I'm Sam."
Sarah smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Sam. I'm Sarah." She then asked "Are you visiting someone here?"
"My grandma is in that second ward on the left. She had heart surgery recently, so she's here recovering."
"I'm sorry to hear that. I hope she recovers soon."
"Thank you Sarah. Would you like to sit and get a cup of coffee with me?" he asked, pointing to the beverage machine in the corner.
"I don't like coffee, but I do like apple tea," she replied.
"Okay, apple tea it is then." He smiled at her warmly.
While he was getting apple tea from the machine he recalled a memory.
Little Sam: Bella, I brought you an apple, it's my favourite, here try it"
Little Bella: I don't like apples. I like peaches, so I can't take it.
Little Sam: But it's my favourite... All sad that she refused.
Little Bella: Okay, I'll try it.
When she tried it she said wow, this is delicious. It's better than the peaches.
Little Sam: I told you and you didn't believe me.
Little Bella: I'm sorry... From now on I'll only eat these apples.
Little Sam: And I will pick them for you. He pointed to the apple tree that stood tall in the orphanage.
The memory faded... He started walking towards her with drinks in his hands thinking... Why does she remind me of Bella so much? The scar, the apple tea... Her smile...
Sarah and Sam, after he got them their drinks, moved to the corner. Sam found her refreshing and honest. Her humour in the face of tragedy reminded him of the little girl he knew. They chatted for a long time, and a comfortable feeling settled between them.
Later that day, a doctor moved Sarah to a private ward on the upper floor, saying one of the hospital's shareholders had instructed him to do so. The name wasn't mentioned, but Sarah instinctively knew it was Damien. Sarah moved to the ward obediently, seeing it as an opportunity to step away from Chloe and Caroline, who kept pestering her. Ever since her conversation with Mathilda, she was wary of them and their hidden motives.
She texted Damien to let him know she had moved to a different ward. She felt a little silly, but she wanted to talk to him. When she received no reply after a few hours, she thought he must be busy with work and she shouldn't bother him. Just then, he appeared at the door, holding flowers and a cake.
"Am I interrupting?" Damien asked.
Sarah's face lit up. "Of course not. Come on in."
"I brought you strawberry cake," he said, a hint of a smile on his face. "Have you been craving sweets lately?"
"Yes, a cake," she said, her heart fluttering. "How did you know?"
"I have my ways," he replied, his eyes twinkling. He looked at her warmly. "How are you feeling today?"
She said she's feeling better, telling him about Mathilda's visit and their conversation. Damien listened intently, his expression darkening as she spoke of the Walkers. He then told her that her adoptive mother Caroline and sister Chloe were the reason why he had her moved to the private ward; he needed to make sure she was safe. Sarah didn't know she was adopted so that came to her as a shock, but she quickly recovered when Damien told her he's investigating. He told her what he found out about her and in the end said he'll be her rock from now on, she wasn't alone.
Sarah's face saddened. "You've done so much for me," she said, her voice a soft whisper. "How can I ever repay you?"
"You don't need to," Damien replied, his voice gentle.
She looked at him, her eyes filled with a gratitude so deep it was almost painful. "But I want to. When I get better, I'll get a good job and pay you back and buy you cake every day and anything else that you like." She smiled happily, like a little child. "I'll buy you lots of gifts, any gift you want."
He reached out and gently lifted her chin, his fingers warm against her soft skin. "You already have."
Sarah looked into his eyes, puzzled.
"The gift," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "You have already given me the best gift I have ever received."
"What gift?" she asked, her voice filled with a desperate curiosity.
He didn't answer. He leaned in and kissed her cheek, his lips warm and soft against her skin. The kiss made her cheeks flush and her heart beat faster. Damien felt a similar rush, his own heart pounding in his chest. He was surprised by his own actions. The urge to kiss her again, to move to her lips, was overwhelming. He abruptly moved his hand away and got up, the logical side of him prevailing.
"I'll leave you to rest now," he said, his voice rougher than he intended. "I have to go back to work." He left, his heart pounding in his chest.