Lahat ng Kabanata ng HIS FORBIDDEN TEMPTATION : Kabanata 281 - Kabanata 290

“Madam… please, calm down. You didn’t even let me finish.” The doctor’s voice cut through the fog of my panic like a sudden light in a pitch-black room. I blinked up at him, my vision swimming through a film of tears. His face—a calm, measured mask—didn’t match the storm that had swallowed me whole. “What?” My voice cracked, brittle and thin. “You… you said you tried. You said—” He raised a gloved hand gently, his eyes steady but kind. “Yes. We tried everything. And it worked.” His words fell in slow, deliberate beats, each one a lifeline I could barely grasp. “He’s stable now. He’s fine.” For a moment, my mind refused to process the meaning. Stable. Fine. Alive. The syllables collided with the memory of flat green lines and piercing alarms, and my brain sputtered in disbelief. “What?” The word escaped again, a broken echo. “But you—you came out here—” “I said we tried,” he repeated softly, crouching slightly so his gaze met mine at eye level. “And we succeeded. He’s breathing o

For a beat, I just stared at him. Two words—Who are you?—still rang in my ears, jagged and wrong, echoing inside my skull like a cruel joke I didn’t understand. A laugh tumbled out of me, brittle and too loud for the quiet room. “Okay… okay, funny.” My voice wobbled, betraying me. “Really, Lorenzo? You wake up from a coma and that’s your first line? Are you trying to pay me back for what I did that day in the hospital?” My hand shot out before I could stop it, giving his arm a playful tap—too light to be a hit, too shaky to feel normal. “Not funny,” I scolded softly, the way I had so many times before when he teased me. “God, you scared me half to death. Don’t—don’t do that.” But his eyes. Those piercing blue eyes that had always read me like an open book—softened me, steadied me—remained blank. Not cold. Not cruel. Just… empty. Like he was looking through me. The laugh died in my throat. “Lorenzo,” I tried again, my voice barely a whisper. “It’s me. Emily.” My fingers ti

The door burst open just as the monitor’s frantic beeping sliced through my skull. “Step back,” Dr. Moretti barked, his voice sharp with urgency. A nurse followed in a blur of white, already reaching for the IV line. I stumbled away from the bed, my heart pounding so violently it felt like it might split in two. Lorenzo’s face was twisted in pain, his knuckles white as he clutched his head. The sight of him—my strong, unbreakable Lorenzo—reduced to this trembling chaos tore at something primal inside me. “Lorenzo,” I whispered, useless and terrified. Dr. Moretti moved with practiced precision, placing a firm hand on Lorenzo’s shoulder while signaling the nurse to adjust the monitors. “Mr. De Vito, listen to me,” he said steadily. “Breathe. Slow, deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Stay with me.” Lorenzo’s eyes snapped open, wild and unfocused, darting between the doctor and me. “Why—why does my head feel like this?” His voice cracked, raw with frustration.

Two weeks. That was how long it had been since Lorenzo had opened his eyes and looked at me like I was a stranger. Fourteen days of living inside a nightmare where every second felt like a punishment. I’d prayed, begged, whispered to the universe for a miracle—that something, anything, would trigger his memory. But nothing.And worse than nothing, Amanda.Every day she came to the hospital, floating in like she belonged, her perfume choking the sterile halls, her voice dripping with that saccharine sweetness that made my stomach churn. She touched him freely, talked to him like they shared a thousand little secrets, and not once—not once—did he push her away.The doctors had been clear: No forcing him to remember. No stress. No pressure on his brain. Their words might as well have been shackles. I wanted to scream the truth into his face, shake him until the memories came back, but instead I stood on the sidelines, biting my tongue until it bled while Amanda smiled like a queen reclai

Four Years LaterThe scent of polished wood and new leather greeted me the moment I stepped inside the store. It was early, the kind of crisp morning that made the city feel alive but not yet frantic. My footsteps echoed over the sleek marble tiles, every sound sharp in the cavernous space.A year ago, this had been nothing but an empty lot. Now it stood as one of the crown jewels in my growing empire—a luxury retail store whose opening had made headlines across the country. The floors gleamed beneath soft lights, the shelves lined with curated pieces that whispered wealth without shouting it. It was everything I had imagined when I’d first drawn the plans.And yet, as I walked through the space, I felt…nothing.Not pride. Not excitement. Just a hollow thrum in my chest that no amount of success could fill.I shoved my hands into the pockets of my tailored jacket, forcing my mind to focus on the details—the perfect placement of the displays, the smooth hum of quiet efficiency as emplo