Chapter Two: A Venomous Reconnection

I woke up in pieces.

For days-or maybe weeks-there were only muffled sounds. The distant cry of a woman. Sometimes footsteps. But I couldn't move. My whole body was numb and I couldn't find the strength to open my eyes. The feeling of a warm hand brushing through my hair.

This time I forced my eyes open, a blinding white light pierced my skull. I gasped, clutching my head as a vicious headache threatened to split me in two.

A young man standing near the edge of the bed froze. His dark eyes widened in sheer shock, as if he’d just watched a corpse sit up. Before I could process his face, he turned and bolted out the door.

Seconds later, he rushed back in with a gray-haired doctor and two nurses in white.

"Where... where am I?" My voice was raw, barely a rasp.

The doctor stepped forward, shining a penlight into my eyes and checking my pulse. He let out a long, careful breath before offering a tight smile. "Do you recognize anyone in this room, Miss Vandal?"

Vandal? The name felt foreign on my tongue.

My eyes moved from face to face, settling on the handsome man standing by the door. His expression was unreadable… cold, guarded. I smiled at him faintly, and I didn't know why.

"My name is Quinn West," I muttered, my fingers digging into the hospital sheets.

The doctor exchanged a grave look with the nurse. "You remember your maiden name, but not your married one. What else do you remember, Quinn?"

I opened my mouth to speak, desperately clawing through the dark. I searched my head for a name, a face, a single piece of who I was, but there was just a terrifying, blank void. Heat stung behind my eyes, and my breathing went ragged before I could force out a sound.

"Can I see you outside for a moment, Mr. Vandal?" the doctor asked softly.

The man by the door gave a single, rigid nod and followed the doctor into the hallway.

Vandal... My husband? Is that who he was?

Before the door could swing fully shut, a young woman burst into the room. She had long, wavy black hair, striking features, and brown eyes that felt strangely sharp despite the heavy tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Quinn!" she cried, rushing to the bed and throwing her arms around me. "Oh god, Quinn! I thought you were dead! Why would you put us through this?"

She pulled back, her hands trembling as she smoothed my hair. But something in me went stiff. That wasn't the hand I remembered from the dark. This one was quick, like she was checking I was real.

I forced a smile and leaned back on the bed. She pulled a clean cloth from her bag and wiped something off me. I couldn't tell what. She muttered while she cried. "Why didn't they clean you properly?"

The door opened again, and my husband stepped back inside. The woman immediately wiped her tears, standing up and adjusting her coat.

"How are you feeling, Mrs. Vandal?" the doctor asked from the doorway.

"I feel... cold," I whispered, pulling the blanket higher. "Who are these people? What happened to me?"

"You were in a severe car accident two months ago," the doctor explained gently. "Your vehicle went off the road into the river during a storm, and rescue teams found your body washed up at the bank. Luckily, you still had a faint pulse. We stabilized you in critical care, but you've been in a coma ever since. And you suffered significant brain trauma, which has caused retrograde amnesia."

My face went pale. "Two months?"

"Yes. I've checked all your vital organs and you're responding well to treatment. You'll be better in no time." He smiled briefly. "We'll leave you with your family."

The door clicked shut, leaving a suffocating silence in the room.

I looked up at the man standing near the foot of the bed. Tall, impeccably dressed, with sharp features that looked carved from marble. His eyes locked onto mine… warm in tone, but brutally cold underneath.

"How are you really feeling?" his deep voice cut through the silence.

"I don't know," I admitted, my voice trembling. "I don't even know who you are."

The woman beside me stepped forward with a wide, bright smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I'm Kira, your best friend. And this is Cole, your husband." She leaned down, dropping her voice to a low, cozy whisper right next to my ear. "Though between you and me... 'husband' was just the word you used on paper. It's a contract, sweetie. You two barely tolerate each other."

I looked past Kira, meeting Cole's unblinking gaze.

"I'm Cole," he said. "Cole Vandal. She's your closest friend. She's been taking care of you since the accident."

I nodded slowly. "Thank you," I managed.

Kira smiled at me. It was a little too wide, and it stayed a second too long. "What are friends for? You'll be discharged soon and we'll take you back to Haven."

"What's Haven?"

"Your home. Well, technically it's his. He's your husband, but…" She leaned close to my ear. " It's just a contract marriage, after all." She pulled back and patted my hair, still smiling.

"If you don't feel safe with me," Cole said neutrally, "You can go home ."

"Don't be silly, Cole," Kira chimed in seamlessly, patting my hand. "She can't go home like this! She needs to go back to the estate." She turned back to me, her grin twisting into something subtly cruel. "Besides... you don't want to leave your dear husband alone, do you?"

The doctor walked back in, carrying a clip board and a small tray of medication. "Mr. Vandal, now that she's awake, we need to schedule immediate cognitive therapy and physical rehab before discussing discharge…" 

"Cancel it," Cole cut in smoothly, his voice leaving zero room for argument.

The doctor blinked, stunned. "Mr. Vandal, she has severe memory loss…"

"I said cancel it," Cole repeated, his eyes fixed entirely on me. "She's coming home with me today. We'll handle her recovery behind closed doors while still being administered treatment from the hospital.”