Chapter 2

I stood rooted to the spot as he approached. When Nathaniel passed me, our eyes met briefly, and for the slightest moment, his pace faltered as though something about my face had caught his attention.

His gaze lingered over my features before his expression hardened.

There was no warmth in his eyes, only a cold, cutting distance that made me feel as though an invisible blade had grazed across my skin. Whatever he might have thought, however, lasted no more than a second. He looked away and continued toward the emergency room, Camille still held securely against his chest.

I slowly curled my fingers into my palms.

I had no reason to follow him, so I remained where I was, staring at the floor while trying to figure out what I was supposed to do next. Should I return to parents who clearly wished I would disappear? Should I go searching for a husband who could barely stand to look at me?

What kind of life had I been living before I forgot everything?

I hadn't even reached an answer when I heard footsteps approaching from behind.

When I turned around, Nathaniel was already there.

Before I could say anything, he reached for my wrist and pulled me toward him. His grip was firm enough that I instinctively frowned.

His eyes settled on me.

“Your blood type is Rh-negative, correct?”

I stared at him in confusion. “I don't know. I only woke up today, and I can't remember—”

“Camille was involved in an accident,” he interrupted. “She lost a significant amount of blood, and the hospital doesn't have enough of her blood type available. They said there's a possibility yours could be compatible.”

His voice remained controlled, but the urgency beneath it was unmistakable.

“Will you donate some blood to her?”

I opened my mouth, still struggling to understand what was happening. “I don't even know if I—”

His hand suddenly moved behind my head.

Before I could react, Nathaniel lowered his face and pressed his lips against mine.

It lasted barely a moment.

There was no tenderness in it, no hesitation, and certainly no affection. It felt more like a transaction than a kiss, cold and deliberate.

He pulled away almost immediately, his expression unchanged.

“Does that satisfy you?” he asked. “Now will you come donate the blood?”

I could only stare at him.

My mind was still trying to catch up with what had just happened when a nurse appeared and began leading me toward the blood collection room.

Everything afterward happened so quickly that I barely had time to process it. I was seated in a chair, my sleeve pushed up, and the nurses prepared the equipment while voices drifted through the door.

“Isn't that Mrs. Sterling?” one nurse whispered.

“Yes. The woman who's supposedly tried to kill herself almost fifty times.”

“I heard her first attempt was because she wanted President Sterling to kiss her,” another said. “The second time, she apparently begged him to take her on a date. Then she tried again because she wanted to spend the night with him.”

“And he turned her down every time.”

A quiet laugh followed.

“That’s humiliating.”

“Still, she finally got her kiss today.”

There was a brief silence before another nurse spoke.

“Except it was only because Miss Camille needed her blood.”

Someone sighed sympathetically. “Imagine begging a man for something for so long, only to realize the moment you finally get it, he’s doing it for another woman. That must hurt.”

The needle entered my vein.

A sharp sting ran through my arm, but strangely, the pain barely registered.

Through the glass window beside me, I could see into another room farther down the corridor.

Nathaniel was standing beside Camille's bed.

He held her hand between both of his, his long fingers wrapped carefully around hers as though she were something precious he was afraid of damaging. Then he lowered his head and placed a gentle kiss against the back of her hand.

That kiss was nothing like the one he had given me.

There was tenderness in it, along with patience and unmistakable affection.

I watched them without saying anything as my blood slowly flowed into the collection bag beside me.

Oddly enough, I didn't feel jealous.

I wasn't happy about it, but neither did my heart break at the sight.

Perhaps the old Adeline would have cried. Maybe she would have felt as though something inside her had been torn apart.

But I wasn't that Adeline anymore.

I remembered nothing.

Even the ache from the needle seemed distant, as though a thin barrier stood between me and the emotions that should have belonged to this life.

My eyes settled on the dark red blood traveling through the tube.

Had my life truly been that miserable?

Had I really spent so much time begging a man like Nathaniel to love me?

The thought seemed almost absurd.

Then another realization quietly followed.

Maybe forgetting everything wasn't the cruelest thing that had happened to me.

Maybe it was the only mercy I had ever received.

Once they finished drawing my blood, I left the room feeling lightheaded. The nurses had taken roughly four hundred cc, and my legs felt strangely weak beneath me. The lights overhead blurred whenever I tried to focus on them, so I leaned against the wall and waited until my breathing steadied.

I should leave.

But where would I go?

I didn't know my parents' address. I didn't know where Nathaniel lived. I couldn't even remember where I was supposed to call home.

After standing there for several minutes, I finally forced myself to continue down the corridor.

Nathaniel was still outside Camille's room.

I stopped several feet away and called his name.

“Nathaniel, could you tell me where we live?”

His eyebrows immediately drew together.

Before he could respond, I added, “I'll give you something in exchange. Consider it a gift.”

His expression changed at once.

“What kind of trick are you trying to pull now?”

“I'm not trying to trick you,” I said weakly.

A humorless laugh escaped him.

“Adeline, you've attempted suicide nearly fifty times, and now you're expecting me to believe you've suddenly forgotten the address of your own home?”

I swallowed before explaining, “I really did lose my memories. The doctor said it's dissociative amnesia.”

Nathaniel studied me with an unmistakable look of disbelief.

After a moment, he simply said, “The driver is outside. Tell him to take you home.”

I nodded.

“Alright. Thank you.”

I hesitated before adding, “I'll still prepare the gift.”

His face became even colder.

“Forget it. I don't want anything from you. Stop trying to win my favor. Whatever you're doing won't change anything.”

I looked at him for a moment before lowering my eyes and allowing a faint smile to touch my lips.

“Are you certain?”

There was no point telling him that he was going to notice this particular gift.

I kept that thought to myself.

Then I turned and walked outside.

The driver was waiting, and I climbed into the back seat. He glanced at me through the rearview mirror.

“Good afternoon, ma'am. Shall I take you home?”

“Yes,” I answered quietly.

But before the car could even leave the hospital grounds, I pulled out my phone.

My contact list was filled with names that meant nothing to me. I scrolled through them slowly until one caught my attention.

Lawyer.

I opened the conversation and typed.

“Hello. I need your assistance. I want to divorce my husband and legally sever my relationship with my parents. Could you prepare the necessary divorce documents and paperwork to terminate the parent-child relationship?”

The response arrived almost immediately.

“Certainly, Ms. Prescott. I'll begin preparing the documents right away.”

I stared at the message for several seconds before turning off my phone.

Outside the window, buildings and vehicles passed in a blur. Everything looked unfamiliar.

Perhaps that was exactly what it was.

If I truly couldn't remember anything about my old life, then maybe I had been given something most people never got—a chance to begin again without carrying the weight of everything that came before.

“Driver.”

“Yes, ma'am?”

“Don't take me home yet. Could you bring me to the immigration office first?”

He glanced at me through the mirror, clearly surprised.

“The immigration office?”

“I need to take care of some paperwork.”

He looked as though he wanted to ask why, but in the end, he simply nodded.

“Of course, ma'am. We'll go there now.”

The rest of the journey passed quietly.

Fortunately, the immigration office wasn't crowded, and the process went more smoothly than I expected. The staff checked my documents, confirmed the necessary information, and explained what would happen next.

Finally, one of them gave me a polite smile.

“Everything is in order, Ms. Prescott. Your paperwork should be completed in approximately two weeks.”