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CONTROL

Penulis: Ella Mart
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2026-01-21 13:55:14

Damien's POV

I Watched her sleep from the doorway, the way I've watched her every night since she came home. Ava doesn't know about the monitors in her room, the cameras I had removed whose footage I still review obsessively, trying to understand what she's thinking. Trying to predict what she'll do next.

She looks peaceful now, curled on her side, dark hair spread across the white pillow. Like the girl I first met two years ago, before everything got complicated. Before she became my wife and then my enemy and now... something I don't have words for.

I shouldn't be standing here like some lovesick fool. I have a company to run, deals to close, problems that require my attention. But I can't seem to walk away from her, can't stop checking that she's still here, still safe, still mine.

The accident was supposed to fix everything. That's a terrible thought, the kind that proves I'm exactly the monster she accused me of being. But it's true. When the doctors told me about the amnesia, about the blank state her mind had become, I saw an opportunity. A chance to erase the mistakes and betrayals and give us both a fresh start.

I know what that makes me. I know keeping her here, feeding her carefully constructed lies about our perfect marriage, is wrong. But letting her remember the truth would be worse. She'd leave again. And last time she tried to leave, she almost died.

My phone buzzes. Marcus, my head of security.

"Sir, Dr. Chen is here for Mrs. Cross's morning examination."

"Send her up," I say quietly, not wanting to wake Ava.

I step back into the hallway, closing the door silently behind me. Dr. Chen is waiting by the elevator, her medical bag in hand. She's professional, discreet, and expensive enough not to ask questions I don't want to answer.

"How is she?" Dr. Chen asks as we walk toward the bedroom.

"Confused. Frightened. She doesn't remember anything about us." I keep my voice neutral, but the words taste bitter.

"That's to be expected with this type of injury. The memories may return gradually, or they may not return at all. You need to be prepared for either outcome, Mr. Cross."

I nod, but I'm not prepared. I'll never be prepared to lose her again.

Dr. Chen enters the bedroom. I watch from the doorway as she gently wakes Ava, performing her examination with practiced efficiency. Ava answers questions, follows instructions, looks small and vulnerable in the big bed. She catches me watching and something flickers in her green eyes. Not recognition. Something else. Wariness, maybe. Or fear.

That look cuts deeper than any words she spoke during our worst fights.

After Dr. Chen leaves, I returned to my study. The space is dark wood and leather, designed to intimidate business rivals and impress investors. But today it just feels empty. I pour myself a scotch even though it's barely noon, then sit at my desk and pull up the security footage from last night.

Ava didn't sleep well. She woke three times, disoriented and searching the room like she expected to find someone watching. The third time, she got up and tried the bedroom door. It wasn't locked, but she stood there for a long moment with her hand on the handle before retreating back to bed.

She's already looking for ways out. Already suspecting something is wrong.

I should have expected this. Ava has always been too smart for her own good. It's one of the things I loved about her from the start, back when we were on the same side. Before she discovered what I'd done to build my empire. Before she looked at me like I was a monster instead of a man.

My computer chimes. An email from Elena Vasquez, my Chief Operating Officer. Subject line: Year-End Audit Concerns.

I open it, already knowing what I'll find. More questions about accounts that don't add up, transactions that can't be easily explained. Elena is thorough, which makes her valuable and dangerous in equal measure. She was Ava's friend once, before I made it clear that friendship was a liability neither of them could afford.

I draft a response, deflecting and promising answers I have no intention of providing. The illegal activities that built Cross Industries into what it is today are buried under layers of shell companies and false documentation. Ava found them once because I was careless, because I trusted her with access I should have protected. I won't make that mistake again.

A soft knock on the study door. Marcus enters without waiting for permission, which means something is wrong.

"We have a problem," he says. "Mrs. Cross asked Claire about her personal belongings. Specifically, her laptop and journals."

My hand tightens around the scotch glass. "What did Claire tell her?"

"That everything was damaged in the accident. But Mrs. Cross is getting suspicious. She's asking questions about friends, family, and wanting to contact people from her old life."

I stand, walking to the window that overlooks the park. Snow is falling again, soft and silent. The world outside looks peaceful. Inside, I was calculating risks and responses.

"Increase monitoring," I say. "I want to know every question she asks, every person she tries to contact. And make sure that laptop she's asking about stays exactly where it is."

The laptop in question is locked in my safe, along with the journal Ava kept during our last year together. Evidence of my crimes, yes, but also evidence of her plans to betray me. To destroy everything I built. Reading her words, seeing how carefully she documented my mistakes, how coldly she planned to bring me down... it hurt worse than any business failure ever could.

She said she loved me. She married me. And the whole time, she was preparing to ruin me.

"Sir." Marcus's voice pulls me back to the present. "If I may speak freely?"

"When have you ever waited for permission?"

"Keeping her prisoner isn't going to make her love you again. If she was trying to leave before, giving her reasons to want to leave now won't change anything."

I turn to face him. Marcus has been with me for ten years, since I inherited the company from my father. He's loyal, but he's also honest in ways that most employees aren't brave enough to be.

"I'm not keeping her prisoner," I say. "I'm protecting her while she recovers."

"From what?"

"From herself. From making decisions before she understands the full picture."

"You mean before she remembers why she was trying to run from you in the first place."

The accusation hangs in the air between us. I should fire him for speaking to me this way. Instead, I drain my scotch and pour another.

"What would you have me do, Marcus? Let her walk out the door? She tried that on Christmas Eve last year and ended up in a hospital bed with a fractured skull. At least here, I can keep her safe."

"Safe or trapped?" He shakes his head. "I've seen a lot of things working for you, Mr. Cross. Some of them I'm not proud of. But this... this is different. She's not a business rival or a corporate problem. She's your wife."

"Exactly. She's my wife. Which means she's my responsibility."

Marcus looks at me for a long moment, something like pity flickered in his eyes. Then he leaves without another word.

I'm alone again, standing in my study with expensive scotch and expensive furniture and a life that looks perfect from the outside. But the truth is, I'm barely holding everything together. The federal investigation that Ava set in motion before her accident is still ongoing, just moving slower without their star witness. The company is hemorrhaging money trying to cover tracks and silence potential whistleblowers. And the woman I love is sleeping down the hall, looking at me like I'm a stranger.

Because to her, I am a stranger. She doesn't remember falling in love with me. I don't remember the late nights talking about our dreams, the way she laughed at my terrible jokes, the morning she told me she was pregnant and I felt, for the first time since my mother died, like I might actually deserve happiness.

She doesn't remember losing the baby either doesn't remember the grief that broke both of us. The way she blamed me and I blamed her and we tore each other apart while trying to hold on.

Maybe the amnesia is a mercy for her. A chance to start over without all that pain.

But for me, it's torture. Because I remember everything. Every perfect moment and every terrible mistake. Every time I chose control over trust, power over love. Every decision that led us here, to this gilded cage where I keep her close and she looks for ways to escape.

My phone buzzes again. Another message, this one from James Cross, my father's former business partner. He's been trying to reach me for weeks, claiming he has information I need to hear. I've been ignoring him, but his persistence is becoming problematic.

I deleted the message without reading it.

The Christmas gala is in two days. The annual event where the city's elite gather to see and be seen, to make deals and alliances over champagne and caviar. I'll need to bring Ava, show her off as my devoted wife, maintain the illusion that everything is fine.

She'll smile and play her part because she has no choice. Because I've made sure she has nowhere else to go and no one else to turn to.

And I'll stand beside her, touching her waist, playing the role of perfect husband, hating myself a little more with every passing moment.

But I won't let her go. I can't.

Because the truth is, I don't know who I am without her anymore. And that makes me more dangerous than any business rival she ever tried to expose.

I finish my drink and return to the bedroom. Ava is awake, staring at the Christmas tree with an expression I can't read. When she hears me enter, she turns, and for just a second, I see something in her eyes that gives me hope.

Then it's gone, replaced by careful politeness. The mask she's learning to wear around me.

"Are you hungry?" I ask. "We could have lunch together."

"That would be nice," she says. But her voice is empty, and I know she's lying.

We're both lying. We're both pretending. And somewhere beneath all the careful words and forced smiles, the truth is waiting to destroy us both.

Again.

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