تسجيل الدخولHe forgot the woman he loved… but his body remembers her. Three years after a brutal accident erased Zara Matthews from Valerio Cruz’s memory, she returns to Cruz Holdings as his secretary once again—hiding a dangerous truth: the cold, ruthless billionaire CEO she never stopped loving is also the father of her son. A son Valerio doesn’t know exists. But the moment Zara steps back into his world, everything begins to unravel. Valerio cannot explain the obsession that ignites whenever she is near. The stolen glances or the flashes of heat and memory. The feeling that he has touched her before in ways far too intimate to forget. As the tension between them turns explosive, Zara begins uncovering the horrifying truth behind the accident that destroyed their lives: Valerio’s memory loss was never natural. Someone erased her from his memory deliberately. Now, buried secrets, corporate betrayal, a dangerous conspiracy, and a child caught in the middle threaten to destroy them both. And when Valerio is forced to choose between the truth and the life he’s been manipulated into living, the consequences could cost him everything—including Zara. Because some love survives heartbreak, and some survive betrayal. But can love survive being deliberately forgotten?
عرض المزيدZara's POVI lie in the dark, the ghost of Kenji’s gentle forehead kiss still lingering on my skin. It was kind. Safe. Everything I should want. And yet it left me emptier than before. I press my palms to my eyes and let out a shaky breath. Why do I keep doing this to myself? Why do I let myself feel guilty for enjoying a moment of peace? Why does every soft, uncomplicated moment only make me miss the dangerous intensity of a My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I reach for it, expecting Kenji, or Luca, or maybe a work email. Valerio.The name glows on the screen, and my heart stops. My hands are trembling. I stare at his name, my thumb hovering over the screen. I should not answer. I should let it go to voicemail. I should protect what little peace I have left.There’s nothing else to talk about, and I have certainly had enough of his lies. I answer anyway."Zara." His voice is rough, urgent. The sound of it cuts through me like a blade, raw, familiar and achingly close."Valerio
Zara's POVThe apartment is quiet, except for the soft hum of the nightlight in Liam's room.I sit on the edge of his bed, watching his chest rise and fall, the rhythm steady and fragile. His small hand is curled around his stuffed wolf, his lips slightly parted, his face peaceful in a way that makes my chest ache. The fever broke hours ago, but the terror of watching him burn up is still fresh under my skin.The doctor's words keep circling in my head. ‘His white blood cell count is still elevated. We need to keep monitoring it. It could be nothing or it could be something.’“Could be something.” Those three words have been eating at me since I left the hospital.I press my palm against his forehead, and it’s cool. I let out a breath I did not realize I was holding, and slip out of his room, closing the door softly. The living room is dark, the city lights casting long shadows through the window. I sit on the couch in the dark and stare at my phone. No messages from Valerio. He does
Valerio's POVSleep refuses to elude me.I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, the boy's face burned into my mind. His dark curls. His eyes. The stubborn line of his chin. Every time I close my eyes, I see him running toward her, his arms outstretched, his smile bright and unguarded.I see myself.I push the covers aside and stand up. The penthouse is dark and silent. The city sprawls below, indifferent to the war raging inside me. I walk to the study, my feet bare against the cold floor.I open the bottom drawer of the old oak desk. Tucked away beneath a stack of papers is a leather-bound album I have not touched in years. My mother's handwriting is still visible on the spine: "Valerio — I primi anni." (Valerio—The Early Years)I pull it out. The leather is soft, worn from years of handling. I open it.The first page is a photograph of a baby with dark curls and wide, curious eyes. I stare at the image, my thumb tracing the small face.I turn the page. A toddler, maybe two years old,
Valerio's POVI have been staring at the same line of the report for twenty minutes. The words blur, the numbers shift, but nothing sticks. My mind is a fog of pain and regret.It’s been a couple of days since that incident with Nonno in my office, and I can’t take her hurt face out of my brain. Somehow, the headaches and memory flashes have increased too, and anytime I almost see the face of the woman, it gets hard, and the headache becomes blinding. I need to see her.I don’t know what I will say. I don’t know if I will even speak, but I just need to see her face, to know she is still there, and to breathe the same air as her. I push back from my desk and walk toward Luca's department. The hallway is quiet, the walls solid and cold. I pass assistants who glance at me, look away, and scurry off. I keep walking, round the corner, and I see her desk.But she is not there.Her chair is pushed back. Her laptop is dark, and her bag is gone. I stop. My chest tightens. Where is she?Luca
I grip the steering wheel so tight that it makes my knuckles ache. The city blurs past my window—steel towers and honking traffic that feels both familiar and wrong after three years. I should have turned around at the last exit.I almost did.But the envelope in my bag, the one with Liam’s latest
Zara’s POVThe apartment is quiet when I finally push the door open a little after ten. The living room lamp casts a soft yellow glow over the second-hand couch and the small pile of toy cars scattered across the rug. Mrs. Rivera looked up from her knitting, smiling that gentle, knowing smile she a
Zara’s POV My feet are killing me by the time the clock hit eight-thirty, but I keep typing. The Harrington proposal stares back at me from the screen, marked up with more red ink than black. Valerio had thrown three more files at me after lunch, each one more complex than the last. He was testing
Valerio’s POVI can’t get her out of my fucking head.Zara Matthews.Even her name feels like it belongs to my mouth. I stand at the window of my penthouse, whiskey in hand, staring at the city sprawled below me like scattered diamonds. The glass is cold against my palm, and my mind refuses to sett












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