Author’s POV
Sally’s eyes widened in shock. "What? Amnesia?"
Ryan let out a bitter scoff. "So you don’t know about her past either."
A kaleidoscope of emotions washed over Sally’s face. She’d thought they were close confidants, best friends who shared everything over late-night wine sessions and weekend brunches, but apparently Serena had kept sothing this significant from her.
Ryan didn’t press further. If Sally didn’t know about sothing as major as amnesia, she clearly wouldn’t have answers to his other questions. After a mont of heavy silence, Sally mumbled sothing about a client ergency and left.
About fifteen minutes later, Serena rushed back, her face stormy as her designer heels clicked aggressively against the polished marble floor.
"Mrs. Lancaster, you’re back. Mr. Blackwood has been waiting for you inside," her assistant inford her.
"I’ll handle this alone," Serena replied curtly before taking a deep breath and pushing open the door.
Ryan’s gaze imdiately locked onto her face, his breath catching in his throat. The face he’d been dreaming of for so long now looked at him with pure anger and disgust—expressions he was all too familiar with, dragging him back to those final devastating months of their marriage. Back then, he truly had wronged Serena. But now? What had caused this hatred?
Both Ryan and his assistant stared at her, transfixed.
"Ma’am?" his assistant murmured, earning a venomous glare from Serena.
"Watch your words," she snapped. "I’ll say this once more—I am not your Serena. My na is Serena Lancaster, and I have absolutely nothing to do with your wife or whatever twisted fantasy you’ve constructed."
The assistant blinked rapidly, his mind reeling as he finally grasped why Ryan had been so troubled. How could there possibly be two people who looked exactly identical? The only logical explanation was that Serena Lancaster was indeed Ryan’s missing wife.
"Leave us," Ryan ordered his assistant without acknowledging Serena’s words.
Once they were alone, Ryan’s eyes never left Serena, drinking in the sight of her. This was no mirage, no cruel trick of his imagination— the woman he’d longed for was standing before him, flesh and blood. Even if she denied her identity, even if she hated him—he’d accept it all willingly.
"Serena, you’ve lost weight," he observed softly.
Indeed, Serena had beco noticeably thinner after the accident—her cheekbones more pronounced, her collarbones sharp beneath the silk of her blouse.
She shifted uncomfortably, increasingly unnerved under his intense gaze. "Does Mr. Blackwood enjoy these twisted identity gas so much?"
Ryan let out a harsh laugh at her accusation. "Identity gas? Is that what Cedric Lancaster told you? He certainly knows how to spin a story."
"Stop deflecting," Serena’s brows furrowed deeper. "Ryan, just leave. You’re not welco here. I don’t want to see you again."
Ryan’s expression froze, and he suddenly stood up—all six feet two inches of him towering over her.
Serena instinctively backed away, her spine hitting the wall behind her, which seed to jolt Ryan back to reality, his predatory advance halting as he registered her fear.
"Serena, you’ve lost your mory. What Cedric Lancaster told you isn’t the truth."
"I can determine what’s true myself!" she fired back. "Stop destroying my peaceful life. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee what I might do."
Her eyes flashed with fierce hatred, as if she truly despised the man before her. Yet inexplicably, treacherously, her heart ached. The pain ca in waves, like the tide, making it hard to breathe.
They stared at each other in a battle of wills until Ryan finally sighed. His eyes glazed over with unshed tears, revealing a vulnerability she hadn’t expected.
Serena’s gaze flickered away, unable to maintain eye contact.
"I don’t want to dwell on the past anymore," she said quietly. "Please leave, and I’ll pretend none of this ever happened."
She was exhausted—emotionally drained from fighting feelings she didn’t understand. Even if she wanted answers, she lacked the strength to pursue them now. Better to appease this man who stirred up emotions she couldn’t na and make him leave voluntarily.
Ryan clenched his fist—his knuckles white with the effort of restraining himself. Regardless of how Cedric Lancaster had manipulated the situation, the reality was undeniable: his wife didn’t want to see him. Any explanation he offered would fall on deaf ears—or worse, would only serve to deepen her resentnt.
He knew his wife well enough to recognize when retreat was the only option.
"Alright. I’ll go," he said finally—each word feeling like glass in his throat.
Ryan walked away with heavy steps, leaving the Elegant Realm studio behind him—and taking a piece of his shattered heart with him.
Serena’s POV
I couldn’t breathe as Ryan walked away. The mont the door closed behind him, pain seized my chest like a vise grip. Cold sweat broke out across my forehead as I collapsed to the floor, clutching at my heart.
"Serena, what’s wrong with you?"
Sally rushed to my side, her voice thick with concern as she helped to the sofa. I gasped for air, trying to regain control of my body while fighting against this mysterious pain that seed to have no physical cause.
"I’m taking you to the hospital," Sally insisted, attempting to pull up.
I grabbed her arm weakly. "I’m fine, Sally."
Her eyes narrowed with worry. "What the hell happened? Did you offend Mr. Blackwood?"
Despite looking upset about sothing herself, Sally’s concern for was clearly the priority. I could see the wheels turning in her head—if Ryan Blackwood had a grudge against , Elegant Realm studio wouldn’t stand a chance in this industry.
"It’s a long story," I sighed, my face still pale.
"Long story? I’ve got nothing but ti right now. You need to tell what’s going on!" Sally’s voice rose with urgency. "You can’t handle this alone! Look at the state you’re in!"
I wiped sweat from my forehead, finally gathering enough strength to speak. "It goes back three years. I was in a car accident." My voice trembled slightly. "I lost my mory. Everything from before—it’s just gone."
Sally’s eyes widened in shock. So Ryan had been telling the truth about that part.
"When I woke up," I continued, "all I knew was that I was pregnant with Rancy, and Cedric Lancaster was my husband."
I told Sally everything I knew—or thought I knew—about my past. Sohow, speaking these truths aloud made feel calr, more grounded.
Sally sighed, her eyes filling with sympathy. "So that’s what you’ve been through."
"Is there any chance you’ll recover your mories?" she asked gently.
I shook my head. "It’s a side effect from the accident. There’s a blood clot pressing on a nerve."
"What?" Sally’s eyes darted to my head as if she could see through my skull. "Haven’t you had surgery for that?"
"The clot isn’t spreading. Surgery would be too risky," I explained, then quickly changed the subject. "Sally, I’m really fine. I’ve made things clear with Ryan. We’ll stay out of each other’s way from now on. He won’t cause any more trouble."
"Elegant Realm will be fine, don’t worry."
Sally sighed heavily. "I’m not worried about the studio—I’m worried about you. Why didn’t you tell about all this sooner?"
I gave her a bitter smile. "I only found out so of these details recently myself."
"Let’s not talk about these depressing things. How are the preparations for Fashion Week coming along?" I desperately needed to focus on sothing else—anything else.
Sally reluctantly shifted gears. This Fashion Week was crucial for Elegant Realm, marking our first dostic showcase.
"Can you still make the eting with Mr. Alvin tonight?" she asked hesitantly.
"Of course," I nodded, pushing aside my discomfort. "I’ll be fine."
Sally bit her lip, clearly unconvinced. We both knew this eting required my personal presence to show proper respect. She couldn’t substitute for , no matter how much she wanted to.
"Alright then," she conceded. "Call if anything happens. Rest a bit now, and I’ll go check on the planning departnt to get that proposal revised and sent to you."
"Thanks," I managed.
After Sally left, silence enveloped the office once more. I leaned back on the sofa, my mind replaying the scene with Ryan over and over. His wounded expression grew larger in my mind’s eye.
If he was truly the villain in this story, why did his eyes hold such profound sadness? Could I have been wrong about him?
I shook my head firmly, clearing away these dangerous thoughts. The evidence I’d uncovered was irrefutable. This had to be one of Ryan’s manipulation tactics. I couldn’t fall for it!
Rising from the sofa on unsteady legs, I gathered my sketches and threw myself into work.
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