Chapter Two

Noah’s POV

“Leave my son alone.”

Victoria Wolfe’s voice still echoes in my ears long after the security guard shuts the hospital doors behind me. The night air is cold, wet from the earlier storm, and the sound of my name—my married name—feels like a wound.

I stand there for a long moment, staring at the glass doors, half-expecting Adrian to come after me.

He doesn’t.

He never does.

The rain starts again—light but steady—soaking through my jacket. My car’s parked a few blocks away, but I don’t move. I just stand there, replaying his words.

“Who the hell are you?”

That look on his face will haunt me.

I thought I was ready for anything when the doctors called. They said Adrian had been in a crash—that he was alive but disoriented. I ran to the hospital still wearing my paint-stained shirt, hands shaking so badly I almost couldn’t sign the visitor’s form.

But I wasn’t ready for this.

For him to forget me.

For him to look at me like I was a stranger trying to ruin his life.

I finally drag myself toward my car, chest tight. The city blurs under the rain, lights smeared like watercolors.

When I reach the driver’s seat, I don’t start the engine. My fingers tremble as I pull the ring from my pocket—a plain silver band, scratched and faded, Always engraved on the inside.

Adrian used to say that word like it meant something.

“I’m not good at promises, Noah,” he told me once, head on my chest. “But if I ever give you one, I’ll keep it. Always.”

I squeeze the ring until it cuts into my palm.

He doesn’t remember that promise.

He doesn’t remember me.

I start the car and drive aimlessly through the wet streets. I can’t go home, not yet. The apartment feels too big without him. Everything there is us—the framed photo by the window, the mismatched mugs he bought because I liked the colors, the jacket he left on the couch after our last fight.

I end up at the pier instead. Our pier. The one we used to walk along late at night when he needed to clear his head.

I lean against the railing, hood pulled over my head.

We met here three years ago. I was sketching the skyline for a client. He was on the phone, yelling about stocks—his voice sharp, commanding. When he hung up, he noticed my drawing and said, “That building’s mine. You made it look less depressing than it actually is.”

I laughed. And that’s how it started.

Two years later, we were married in Florence. Just us, a chapel, and a promise whispered against my lips.

Now it feels like someone else’s story.

My phone buzzes. A message from an unknown number:

Walk away, Noah. He doesn’t remember you. Don’t make things worse.

No name. But I know who it’s from.

Victoria Wolfe.

I delete the message, though my hands won’t stop shaking.

I know her. I know what she’s capable of.

Adrian once told me she controlled everything—the company, the board, even Damian. He hated her methods but feared her power.

Now she has him exactly where she wants him: confused, dependent, and far from me.

I can’t let that happen.

⸻

The next morning, I go back to the hospital—clean shirt, hair combed, no trace of last night’s tears. The nurses glance at me nervously.

Teresa, an older nurse with kind eyes, pulls me aside. “Mr. Reyes…” she lowers her voice, “Mrs. Wolfe gave orders not to let you in. I’m sorry.”

I nod, though it takes everything not to break. “Can you at least tell me how he’s doing?”

She hesitates, then whispers, “Physically fine. But… he hasn’t asked for anyone. Not even you.”

That hurts more than I expected.

I hand her a sealed envelope. “Please give this to him. It’s… something personal.”

Inside is a photo of us at the lake house—the one Adrian bought under a fake name. We’re barefoot on the dock, his arm around me, both of us smiling like idiots.

She promises to deliver it. I leave before anyone else sees me.

⸻

By afternoon, my lawyer calls. His voice trembles. “Noah, Evelyn Wolfe contacted me. The company plans to challenge your marriage certificate. They’re claiming it’s fake.”

My stomach drops. “What?”

“They’ve already reached out to the Italian registrar. If they prove it’s not in the system, you could face fraud charges.”

“They’re lying,” I whisper. “We were married there. I was there.”

“I believe you,” he says gently. “But we’ll need proof. Something official.”

I hang up and press my hands to my face.

This is what they do.

When the Wolfes can’t control the truth, they destroy it.

⸻

By evening, I can’t sit still any longer.

If Adrian won’t remember me, I’ll make him.

I sneak into the hospital through the delivery entrance, heart pounding. Teresa had told me his room number—512. The hallway is dim, the air cold and sterile.

When I reach his door, I pause. He’s awake, sitting up, scrolling through his phone. The sight of him hits like a punch—familiar, perfect, yet distant. His eyes are empty, like the light I knew is gone.

I knock softly.

He looks up. His gaze hardens. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you.”

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I don’t care.”

He sighs, setting his phone aside. “Noah, right?”

The way he says my name—like it’s foreign—almost breaks me.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “Noah. Your husband.”

He flinches but doesn’t correct me. That’s something.

“I gave the nurse a photo,” I say quietly. “Did you see it?”

He hesitates. “Yes.”

“Do you remember it?”

“No.” His voice is soft, tired. “It feels familiar, but… like someone else’s life.”

“Then let me help you remember,” I plead. “Let me show you what we were.”

He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be here. My mother—”

“Your mother wants to erase me.”

He looks away, jaw tight.

I take a step closer. “Adrian, you used to say you didn’t believe in fate—that everything had to be controlled. But love scared you. You said I was the first thing that did.”

Something flickers across his face—pain, confusion, maybe memory.

“You loved me,” I whisper. “You still do. You just don’t remember how.”

For a moment, he just stares at me. His eyes soften. The tension in his shoulders loosens. Then, footsteps echo down the hall.

Victoria’s voice slices through the air. “I told you to stay away from him.”

Two guards appear behind her.

Adrian turns, startled. “Mother, wait—”

“Take him out,” she orders.

The guards seize my arms. I struggle, shouting, “Adrian! You know me! You do!”

He stands frozen, eyes wide, torn between us.

Then he whispers, barely audible—

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

The guards drag me away.

And the man I love watches me disappear—again.