Chapter 3

LISA’S POV

A sharp, piercing sound split through my skull, metal grinding against bone.

I tried to open my eyes. Bad idea. Pain slammed me back into darkness, throbbing harder with each attempt, like my brain was punishing me for daring to wake up.

Something wasn’t right. I couldn’t name it, but my chest tightened like my body already knew what my mind couldn’t remember.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sound grew clearer, syncing with the biting scent of antiseptic and the scratch of stiff sheets beneath my fingers. Not heaven. Not even close.

“Lisa!”

The voice cut through the fog—urgent, familiar in a way that sent another jolt of confusion through me.

I didn’t move. Couldn’t. My eyelids fluttered, but the light burned. The voice came again, closer this time, softer but no less desperate.

“It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Safe. Somehow, that word felt wrong.

Slowly, I pried my eyes open. Faces swam into view—my mom, my dad, a man in a white coat, and also a guy, tall and handsome, worry etched on his face.

They were staring at me like I was a miracle they weren’t sure would last. Relief sat on their faces, but it didn’t match the knot twisting in my stomach.

“Water?” The handsome tall guy’s voice broke through. I had no idea who he was.

I managed a shaky nod.

The glass was cool against my lips, but even that felt foreign—like I’d forgotten how to drink. Their eyes never left me, and it made my skin itch.

“Please step aside,” the doctor said, moving closer with professional calm. “Miss Lisa, I’m going to ask you some questions. Just answer whatever you can.”

I nodded again, my throat raw.

“Do you know where you live?”

“Auston Villa,” I croaked automatically.

“Does that feel right to you?”

I hesitated. “Yes… and no.”

He gave a small, almost reassuring smile. Then he said it—too gently, like the words might bruise me.

“I’m glad to see you awake, Mrs. Clifford. Your husband has been notified. He should be arriving soon.”

I blinked. Once. Twice.

“…Mrs. who?”

“Your husband,” he clarified, like that explained anything.

“Husband?” The word tasted sour. “What husband?”

I turned to my parents, expecting someone—anyone—to laugh and tell me this was some awful, tasteless joke.

But no one laughed. My mom’s eyes went wide. My dad’s jaw tightened.

And the tall, handsome guy looked like he’d just seen a ghost.

“I… I—”

“Look who’s awake,” a smooth voice drawled from the doorway.

I turned, staring at a tall, bulky man walked into the ward with a smug look on his face.

He walked in with the kind of arrogance that made it seem like the room belonged to him. “You gave us quite a scare,” he said, his tone mock-gentle. “I was starting to think you enjoyed making people worry.”

I rolled my eyes, holding my head as a throbbing headache struck me.

“Who…” My throat scratched. “Who are you?”

He stopped mid-step. Blinked. Then, slowly, his smile cracked into something mischievous. “You don’t know?”

“No,” I muttered, feeling irritated by the fact that I couldn’t recognize most of the people around me.

His expression which was hardened few seconds ago turned soft. “You’re my wife, Lisa.”

“What’s your name?” I asked, hoping I could remember my so-called husband, if his name strike a cord in my head.

“I’m Dominic. Your beloved husband.”

He reached out to grab my hand in his, that mischievous smile unwavering. “You scared me, Wifey.”

My head was a mess and the throbbing headache increased. “Can you please leave?”

“Why? I want to stay with you, Lisa. You know how much I love you?”

“Didn’t you hear her?” The deep baritone voice of the tall, handsome man with worry etched on his face, made my gaze whipped to his direction. “She said you should leave.”

Dominic turned towards the man, glaring at him. “And what are you doing here?” His voice was filled with so much hatred and disdain.

“Before she became your wife, she has always been my best friend.” The man replied, his gaze burning like hell’s fire.

The doctor, who stood by the side, stepped forward to intervene. “Mr. Dominic, I think you should leave. Your wife shouldn’t stress herself.”

Dominic paused for a second, his jaw ticking before he rose to his feet, dusting off imaginary dirt from his tuxedo suit. “I will be back, dear wife. I hope you remember me before then.”

And the next second, he was gone.

Once he was gone, for the first time since I woke up, I felt something close to peace, to an extent it puzzled me.

Silence stepped like smoke once my husband left and my mother’s son cracked it open.

“I’m so happy you’re free,” she whispered, clutching a tissue like it might hold her together.

“Free of who?” I whipped my head towards her direction, staring blankly at her.

“Dominic,” she muttered.

“My… husband?” My brows creased.

“You loved him,” she said, voice breaking. “So much you shut us out. We couldn’t reach you anymore.”

“I can’t remember a thing.” My hands flew to my head again, frustration warming its way into my chest.

I hated the fact that I didn’t remember my husband and even the tall, handsome man beside me.

“Show her.” The man said, his jaw tight.

“And who are you?”

“I’m Jace, your best friend.” He replied and I nodded slowly, shutting my eyes, hoping some fragments of my memory could just appear. But it didn’t.

My Mom handed over to me, a tablet and on the screen was a wedding photo. Me, glowing like someone had handed me the world.

And Dominic standing beside me with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Then another image—a headline screaming back at me: Dominic Hale’s Secret Mistress: CEO’s New Bride Humiliated.

My fingers shook as I swiped. A video clip played without warning: Dominic’s voice, smooth and deliberate, murmuring to someone off-camera, “I never loved her. She was just a means to an end.”

My stomach turned. I couldn’t breathe.

“That’s when he took everything,” Jace said quietly, like speaking any louder might shatter me. “Your company. Your accounts. And when he was done, he served you divorce papers.”

“And I…?” My voice barely held.

“You tried to come home,” Jace said, eyes flicking away. “You didn’t make it.”

I set the tablet down like it burned.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” My voice cracked, more accusation than question.

My Mom’s lip trembled. “We tried. God, we tried. But you wouldn’t listen.”

I didn’t believe her. God, I wanted to—but the wedding photos, the headlines, that video of him whispering love to someone else… they all screamed the same thing: they were right.

Numbness slid in like a tide, cold and heavy. And beneath it, sharp and almost obscene, came something else.

Freedom.

Not joy. Just… lighter, like my body had been carrying a weight I didn’t know about, and now it was gone.

I swallowed hard, my voice hoarse when I finally asked, “What put me here? In this hospital?”

Jace’s jaw tightened. He didn’t answer at first, like he was hoping someone else would. Then, quietly:

“You… tried to end it,” he said, each word careful, like they might cut me. “The driver tried to stop you. The car went off the road.”

I blinked. Once. Twice. Then let out a short, humorless laugh.

“So I failed at that too,” I muttered. “Figures.”

Jace’s arms wrapped around me, hesitant. Like even he didn’t know if he should. I didn’t pull away, but I didn’t lean in either.

“You’re here,” he murmured. “That’s what matters.”

Finally, I turned to Jace. “How did you know so much about Dominic and I?”

His brows drew together, like the question hurt more than he expected.

“You’ve told me your name and I believed you were my best friend,” I said, voice slow and deliberate. “But why do you know so much about us?”

From the corner, my mother whispered to my father, “She’s forgotten everyone tied to Dominic.”

Jace’s jaw flexed. He didn’t look at me when he said it. “Because I’m tied to him.” A pause, then quieter: “I’m his stepbrother.”

The word stepbrother lodged somewhere in my chest, heavy and bitter.

He finally met my eyes. “I hated how he treated you. I should’ve done more.” His fists curled, knuckles white.

Something about his conviction made me want to believe him. Something about how quickly he said it made me hesitate.

“Are you sure,” I asked, voice flat, “you’re nothing like him?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “I’m nothing like that son of a bitch.”

But he said it like someone who needed me to believe it as much as he needed it to be true.

I stared at the tablet still sitting on the bed, at the frozen image of Dominic’s smug face on the headline.

He thrived on control. On possession. He took everything away from me.

A painful , self-pity smile curved my lips. “If forgetting him hurt him this much,” I murmured, “imagine what destroying him will feel like.”

Jace’s gaze sharpened, searching my face as if he wasn’t sure what my answer to his next question would be. “Would you like to make your Ex-husband pay for what he did to you?”

My jaw tightened and a lick of fire brightened the darkness in my eyes. “More than anything.”

“Then be mine,” he said, each word filled with determination and the need for revenge. “Not for love. For war.”