02
The ride from the hospital was a blur of towering buildings and busy streets. Dante sat beside me in the back of the sleek, black Bentley, his presence looming like a shadow. Every time the car jolted, he reached out to steady me, his large hand resting firmly on my waist. It was supposed to be a protective gesture, but it felt more like he was marking his territory.
"Do you recognize any of this, Elena?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.
I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the window, searching the passing faces and neon signs for even a spark of familiarity. Nothing. "No," I whispered. "It all feels like a dream I can't wake up from."
"Give it time," he murmured, his thumb brushing against the silk of my dress. "The Moretti estate has been your home for five years. Your memories are buried there, waiting for you to find them."
When we finally turned into a long, gated driveway lined with palm trees, my breath hitched. The mansion was a masterpiece of white marble and glass, glowing under the afternoon sun. It was beautiful, yet it felt cold a fortress built of money and secrets.
As the car came to a halt, a dozen staff members stood in a neat line, bowing their heads. "Welcome home, Madam," they said in unison. The weight of their gaze made me feel small, like an actress who had forgotten her lines in the middle of a play.
Before I could step out, the front doors burst open. Two small figures, a boy and a girl no older than four, came racing down the steps.
"Mama! Mama!" they cried, their high pitched voices filled with pure joy.
I froze as they threw their small arms around my legs. They smelled like lavender and baby powder. Looking down at their innocent faces the same eyes as Dante, the same hair as mine a sharp pain twisted in my chest. I wanted to hold them, to feel that rush of motherly love everyone talked about, but inside, I was empty.
"Leo, Lia, be careful," Dante commanded, though his eyes softened as he looked at them. "Your mother is still recovering."
He led us inside, his hand never leaving the small of my back. He took me up a grand staircase to a master suite that was larger than the entire hospital wing. The bed was draped in charcoal grey silk, and the walls were adorned with expensive art.
"Get some rest, Elena," Dante said, kissing my temple. The touch made my skin crawl. "I have a few calls to make. I'll have the maid bring you tea."
As soon as the door clicked shut, I collapsed onto the bed. I needed to find something anything that proved I belonged here. I began to pace the room, my fingers trembling as I opened the drawers of a mahogany vanity.
Hidden inside a heavy, leather-bound book on the nightstand, a small piece of paper fluttered out. My heart stopped as I read the jagged, hurried handwriting:
"Don't trust him. He's lying about everything. Meet me at the Old Pier at midnight. R…az"
The name echoed in my head again. Razack.
I clutched the note to my chest, my eyes darting to the closed door. I wasn't just a wife returning home. I was a woman living in a house of lies, and the only person I could trust was a ghost from a past I couldn't remember.
I clutched the note to my chest, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. The name echoed in my head again Razack. It felt like a lifeline thrown into a dark, bottomless ocean. If this man knew the truth, I had to find him. But how could I escape a house that was guarded like a fortress?
I walked over to the massive floor to ceiling windows. Outside, the sun was beginning to set, casting long, bloody shadows across the perfectly manicured lawn. I saw security guards in dark suits patrolling the perimeter, their earpieces glinting in the fading light. Dante hadn't just brought me home; he had brought me to a high-security prison where he was the warden.
A soft knock at the door made me jump. I shoved the note deep into my pocket just as a maid entered, carrying a silver tray with a porcelain teapot.
"Your tea, Madam," she said, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor.
"Wait," I called out as she turned to leave. "How long have you worked here?"
The woman hesitated, her fingers trembling slightly on the tray. "Three years, Madam."
"Then you know me," I pressed, stepping closer. "Was I... was I happy here? Before the accident?"
The maid's eyes flickered toward the door, fear clouding her expression. She opened her mouth to speak, but the sound of heavy footsteps in the hallway silenced her. She quickly bowed and hurried out of the room without another word.
A moment later, Dante appeared in the doorway. He had discarded his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, looking more relaxed, yet even more intimidating. He walked toward me with a predatory grace that made my skin crawl.
"You look pale, Elena," he said, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His touch was cold, devoid of the warmth a husband should have. "Are the memories starting to return? Or is the silence of this house bothering you?"
"I just need rest, Dante," I lied, forcing a smile that felt brittle on my face.
"Rest then," he murmured, his gaze dropping to my lips. "But remember, you don't need to look for the past. I am your present. And I am your future. Everything else is just noise."
He leaned in and kissed my forehead a slow, possessive kiss that felt like a brand. As he walked away, I realized that the man claiming to love me was the very person I needed to fear the most. I looked at the clock. Five hours until midnight. Five hours until I would risk everything to meet a stranger at the Old Pier.