Five Years, Gone

I drew in a deep breath, forcing down the explosion in my throat. “You really don’t have... even a drop of sympathy, do you?”

He didn’t answer. Just looked at me like he was checking the weather. Cold. Unbothered.

“You don’t remember me?!” I hissed. “Are all those years just… fog in your head?”

His brows twitched, the faintest crease appearing on his forehead. “Why does it matter?”

“Why does it matter? Because five years ago I—” My eyes narrowed. I stopped myself, snapping my mouth shut before those words dug up more than I wanted to give. “Because you’re standing here, threatening me, pretending I’m a stranger. And now… you want to humiliate me in front of hundreds of people by making me your backup bride.”

The corner of his mouth lifted in a razor-thin smirk.

"Dramatic much, Miss Moguel?" His tone was light, almost bored, like we were talking about the weather. “I don’t care what past we might have had. If it was important, I’d remember. But I don’t. So don’t drag it to the altar with you.” He tilted his head, his gaze cutting. “And maybe… try not to look like you’re about to strangle your groom on camera. The media prefers happy portraits over criminal ones.”

A short laugh slipped from his throat, warm....empty, and then he turned away. His back was straight, his steps sure. No trace of doubt, no hint of guilt.

What the hell...

:::

I sat in the wide wicker chair, the ivory gown pooling around my legs like some alien creature that had decided to attach itself to my body. The fabric was heavy, cold against my skin, and layered enough to kill someone if they tried to swim in it.

The makeup artist behind me worked with the precision of a surgeon while I stared at my reflection in the oversized mirror.

It wasn’t me I saw.

It was the face of a woman about to stand at the altar for a man who had once ripped her apart… and now pretended not to know her. The irony was so thick I could wring it out and pour myself a drink.

The makeup brush swept blush over my cheek and I let out a small hiss.

“Sorry, Signora,” she murmured.

“It’s fine. My cheeks are just naturally temperamental.”

Hurried footsteps echoed from the doorway, then Catalina burst in, slightly out of breath. An iPad clutched in her hands, her expression somewhere between shock and prayer.

“Boss…” she started, like she was easing into a confession. “This… what I’m seeing right now… is real?”

I glanced at her through the mirror. “If what you’re seeing is me sitting here in a Vittoria gown while someone paints a fake smile on my face… yeah, it’s real.”

Catalina blinked slowly, then let out a long exhale. “I still can’t believe it. I mean… five minutes ago, I thought the biggest drama today was the flower girl getting scratched by a cat. Now…” she pointed at me, “…this.”

I didn’t bother engaging with her commentary. “Where’s Sienna?”

Catalina blinked again. “She went home. Bathroom emergency. Angela took her straight out. Said it was urgent.”

I turned fully toward her. “Bathroom emergency?”

Catalina shrugged. “You know your kid. If she says it’s urgent, it’s not up for debate. Angela didn’t even stop to say goodbye.”

A small weight eased off my chest. “Good. That means she’s far from Nicholas and this whole circus.”

Catalina stepped closer, lowering her voice. “I already told Angela about… the situation. She promised not to bring Sienna back until I say it’s safe.”

I nodded. “Smart.”

She gave a short chuckle, though her gaze stayed serious. “Boss… are you sure you want to go through with this?”

I lifted one shoulder. “Do I have a choice?”

She didn’t answer. Because we both knew the truth.

She drew in a breath and said, “I’ll go out and check on things.”

I nodded again.

My eyes returned to the mirror. Pale pink lipstick was starting to claim my lips. The makeup artist moved fast, efficient. Meanwhile, my brain kept playing reels from five years ago, the ones I should have forced dead, but somehow they were alive again, like an uninvited film on repeat.

Nicholas holding me. Nicholas whispering my name. Nicholas kissing my forehead like it was a lifelong promise.

And now....Nicholas putting me in another woman’s gown.

Ten minutes later, the dressing room door swung open without a knock, and a tall man in a perfectly tailored navy suit stepped inside.

Gabriel De Castello. Nicholas’s older brother.

I’d seen him once, years ago, when he came to the office for a family meeting.

“Miss Moguel,” he said warmly, like greeting an old friend. He gave the slightest lift of his chin, his eyes sweeping the gown clinging to my body. Too quick to be called staring, too deliberate to be innocent. “I’ll be the one walking you down the aisle.”

I stood, trying to mask the way my heartbeat had started to pick up. “Sounds… dramatic.”

He gave a faint smile. “Dramatic is pretty much our family motto. But today… you saved the reputation of one marriage.” He leaned in just slightly, lowering his voice. “Thank you.”

I nodded. My throat was dry, and for the first time today, nerves punched me square in the chest. Not just because of the altar. But because of all the eyes that would be on me, the cameras waiting for every flicker of expression, and the man at the end of the aisle who once held me like I was his center of gravity… then tossed me aside like I’d never existed.

Gabriel studied me for a few seconds too long. “I know you.”

I tilted my head. “Do you?”

“Yeah. You used to be Nicholas’s secretary.”

I narrowed my eyes. “If you know that… explain one thing.”

“What?”

“Why is Nicholas acting like I’m some catering staff he met five minutes ago?” My brows drew together. “He didn’t even blink. No ‘I remember you.’ No ‘how have you been.’ No…”

Gabriel let out a long breath. He stepped closer, leaning back against the vanity in front of me. “Two years ago,” he said quietly, “He had an accident.”

I froze, my eyes widening on instinct.

“His car went off the road on the coastal highway near Tuscany. Three days in a coma. When he woke up, there was… a gap.” He made a small circle in the air with his finger, tapping his temple. “He doesn’t remember much from before it happened. The last few years....hazy. Gone.”

The word gone landed in the room like a silent explosion. My eyelids lifted, my breath catching in my throat. For a split second, the whole world felt like it stopped moving.

“If you want the full story… I don’t think you’ll get it from him,” he added.

I looked down briefly.

So… he doesn’t remember. Not because he’s pretending. Not because it’s some calculated move. But because… he truly doesn’t.

Five years I thought were buried...turns out, some of them actually were, in his mind.

Gabriel gave my shoulder a light push, straightening me again. “We’re walking out in a minute. You ready for the wedding?”