LOGINThorne Langley wakes up with no memory—nothing but sharp pain and the hollow feeling of a past that's gone. The only thing he knows for sure is that a mafia named Garrett Cullen is claiming they once shared a life together. Thorne doesn't remember their relationship, the dangerous world they were part of, or the enemies that now threaten them both. Garrett insists their bond was real-deep, powerful, and undeniable. But as old memories start to resurface, so does the truth. Thorne begins to question everything: his feelings for Garrett, the life they shared, and whether the love they once had can survive the web of lies, betrayals, and secrets still lurking beneath the surface. Living in a world where trust is fragile and one breath away from betrayal, Thorne has to face an inner emotional battle between love and doubt. Can he fight for the truth without losing himself in the process? Or will the cost of remembering everything be too much to bear?
View MoreChapter 111: A Shadow After “We Do”Thorne’s POVThe days after Garrett and I decided to get married felt unreal. For once, there was no gunfire, no betrayal, no masks hiding the truth. Just us. Two men planning a future.We spent mornings arguing about the kind of wedding we should have. Garrett wanted something quiet, simple. I… well, I didn’t know what I wanted. I only knew I wanted him.“Black tux,” Garrett said one morning as he lounged on the couch, sipping coffee. “Classic. Elegant.”I snorted. “You mean boring.”“Boring?” He raised an eyebrow. “And what do you suggest?”I leaned against the table, grinning. “Red tux. You’d look hot.”Garrett choked on his coffee, glaring at me. “Red? Do I look like a magician to you?”I laughed so hard I nearly dropped the newspaper. “Fine, fine. Black. But maybe with red lining inside. Just to keep things fiery.”He shook his head but smiled. “You’re impossible.”Moments like this… they healed me more than any hospital bed or medicine ever co
Chapter 111 – The Wedding Plans Thorne’s POV The kitchen table looked like a war zone. There was coffee, paper, a pen that didn’t even work half the time, and Garrett sitting across from me with that smug smile he always wore when he thought he was smarter than me. At the top of the page, in my messy handwriting, I had written: Wedding. “First thing’s first,” Garrett said, leaning back in his chair like some kind of boss. “Do we want this wedding small or big?” I sighed. “If we make it big, your entire mafia family will come. And that will turn into a business meeting, not a wedding.” He grinned. “So… small then?” “Small,” I confirmed. “Very small. Like… maybe just us, the priest, and two witnesses.” Garrett pretended to look offended. “Two witnesses? Who? The neighbor’s cat and the mailman?” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t tempt me.” He chuckled. “Fine. Close friends. People we trust.” I stared at him for a moment. “That’s like… what? Three people?” “Four,” he corrected. “If you
Chapter One hundred and Nine : We DoThorne's POVThe hospital smelled of antiseptic and medication, something I'd gotten way too accustomed to in the last few days. But today didn't count. Today was special.Because today, I was taking Garrett home.I gripped the pen firmly in my hand as I signed the discharge papers. My hands trembled slightly, not from fear, but from something deeper—something that had been building inside of me since Garrett woke up.Relief.Sense of finality.New beginning.The nurse checked the papers from me, looking up with a warm smile. "All set. He can go home."I nodded, barely able to get the words out.I turned to confront the room, my heart pounding as I yanked open the door. Garrett sat on the edge of the bed, dressed already, his dark eyes fixed on me uncertainly."Sure you're ready to do this?" he asked, still a little raspy.I laughed a half-breathless laugh. "I signed the stupid documents, didn't I?"Garrett smiled. "Guess I shouldn't complain about
Chapter One hundred and eight : Hope Thorne's POVThe hospital room was quiet save for the constant beeping of the heart monitor. The dim light from the window gave a soft illumination to the bed, on Garrett's face—the face I had glared at for hours on end, full of anger, frustration, confusion. But now, I wasn't glaring at him with any of those emotions.Now, I was only full of hope.I had been sitting there for hours, my hands resting on the railing of the bed, my fingers occasionally brushing against his. He was warm, he was breathing, but he hadn't moved.Not yet.I breathed a shuddering breath and swept the hair out of my face, my muscles cramped from being in the same position for so long. I hadn't moved. Not even when the nurses told me I had to rest. Not even when my own exhaustion screamed at me to shut my eyes.Because what if I died, and he came around when I was gone?No. I wasn't going anywhere.My gaze wandered to his face—his hard face relaxed by sleep, his dark lashes












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