Chapter 6

I remained in my room for most of the day, listening to everything happening downstairs. Camille had the television turned up so loudly that I could hear every laugh and dramatic sound effect through the walls. Her heels clicked freely across the wooden floors, and every so often, her laughter floated through the villa as though she had always belonged there.

At one point, I heard her open one of Nathaniel's expensive bottles of red wine and drink it alongside fried chicken.

I remembered enough from my diary to know that every one of those things would once have driven Nathaniel mad.

He hated loud television. He hated footsteps echoing through the house while he worked. He was particular about his wine and had once snapped at me simply for touching a bottle without asking.

Yet now, instead of complaining, I heard him speak to Camille in a gentle voice.

“Take your time. No one is going to steal your food. Just relax and eat properly. I’ll make sure there’s enough for you.”

I stayed upstairs until dinner.

By the time I finally entered the dining room, the table had already been filled with dishes. Camille was seated beside Nathaniel, looking completely at ease, as though the entire villa had been prepared for her comfort.

She pointed excitedly toward the food.

“Nathaniel, you actually remembered all of these! Even the fried chicken, exactly the way I like it. And you paired it with this wine, too. How do you manage to be so thoughtful?”

A faint smile appeared on his face.

“I remember the things that matter to you. I wanted everything tonight to be exactly the way you like it, especially after the difficult few weeks you've had. You should be able to relax here.”

Camille's expression brightened even more when she noticed me.

“Sister, why are you standing over there? Come sit with us. There's more than enough food. Nathaniel went through all this trouble to prepare everything, so you should have some, too.”

I didn't answer.

Instead, I quietly took the seat at the opposite end of the table.

For some reason, I felt as though I had walked into a family gathering that wasn't mine.

I picked up a piece of food and took a cautious bite.

Within seconds, an unpleasant itch began spreading through my throat.

I frowned and tried something else, thinking perhaps the first dish had caused it, but the irritation only became worse. A prickling sensation crawled across my skin, followed by an uncomfortable tightness in my chest.

Then Camille's voice rose sharply.

“Sister, what's happening to you?”

I looked down.

Red patches had begun spreading across my arms. My breathing became increasingly difficult, and every attempt to speak seemed to tighten my throat further.

I tried to reach for my bag and barely managed to gesture toward it.

My emergency medication was inside.

Camille immediately stood.

“I'll get it!”

She hurried toward my bag, but her chair caught against her leg as she moved. She stumbled, and the bowl of steaming soup in her hands tipped forward.

The contents poured directly over my arms.

A scream tore from my throat.

The heat was unbearable. Tears sprang into my eyes as I recoiled from the table, clutching my burned skin.

Through my blurred vision, I saw Nathaniel move.

For one brief second, I thought he was coming toward me.

He wasn't.

He had rushed to Camille.

He caught her by the shoulders and immediately inspected her hands.

“Did you burn yourself?” His expression changed instantly. “Damn it, Camille, I told you to be careful. Why would you rush like that?”

I stared at them.

My breathing was getting weaker.

The last thing I saw was Nathaniel lifting Camille into his arms and carrying her away.

Then everything disappeared.

**

When I woke again, I was lying in a hospital bed with an IV attached to my arm.

A nurse was checking my drip when she noticed my eyes opening.

“You were lucky,” she said. “The allergic reaction was extremely severe. If you hadn't received treatment in time, the outcome could have been much worse. You also suffered second-degree burns.”

She adjusted the IV before looking toward the door.

“Your family hasn't visited once in four days. Don't they know you're here?”

I opened my mouth, but voices from the corridor caught my attention.

“Did you hear? President Sterling reserved the entire floor after Miss Prescott was injured.”

“Seriously? He went that far?”

“Apparently. By the time I came on shift, her burns were already starting to heal. She must be incredibly important to him.”

Another nurse sighed wistfully.

“If someone went to that much trouble for me, I'd probably cry.”

I slowly closed my eyes.

“I don't have a family,” I whispered.

The nurse fell silent.

She looked at me for a moment, then quietly walked away.

The ward eventually became quiet again.

Then my phone vibrated on the bedside table.

I struggled to reach it and answered without checking the caller.

A familiar voice immediately came through.

“Rora? It's Grandpa.”

My fingers tightened around the phone.

It was the Sterling family's patriarch, the only elder mentioned in my diary who had ever treated me with genuine kindness.

“Rora, I've heard about everything that's happened recently,” he said, concern evident in his strained voice. “You've endured far too much. Now that you're married to Nathaniel, he has a responsibility to treat you properly. Don't worry. I'll make sure nobody takes advantage of you again.”

Something tightened behind my nose.

For the first time in years—or perhaps for the first time since I had lost my memories—I felt dangerously close to tears.

“You don't have to worry about me, Grandpa. I'm all right.”

His voice immediately softened.

“That's what breaks my heart, Rora. You were born into a wealthy family, yet look at what you've been through. You were taken away as a child, only to come home and discover that your parents had already given another girl the love and attention that should have been yours.”

He paused.

“And Nathaniel…”

His voice became heavier.

“You gave that man everything. You studied the massage techniques he preferred so you could ease his pain. You traveled from place to place looking for rare tea sets because you knew he liked them. When he was hospitalized, you stayed awake for days taking care of him. Even when his mother passed away, you handled the funeral arrangements yourself because you didn't want him burdened with anything else.”

I stared at the ceiling.

“And what did he give you in return?” Grandpa continued bitterly. “He treated you as though you were nothing. One day, he'll understand exactly what he threw away, and when he does, he'll regret it.”

I couldn't remember any of those things.

Not the massages.

Not the tea sets.

Not the sleepless nights.

Not the funeral.

Yet hearing Grandpa describe them made my chest ache painfully, as though some forgotten part of me recognized every sacrifice.

“Grandpa has to go now,” he said eventually. “But remember this, Rora. If you ever need anything, call me. No matter what it is, I'll come.”

The call ended.

A few minutes later, the hospital door opened.

Nathaniel walked inside.

He looked exactly as he always did: perfectly groomed, dressed in an expensive suit, his expression controlled and his eyes carrying that familiar sense of distance.

His gaze settled on me.

“So, let me understand this,” he said coldly. “You had an allergic reaction, nearly died, and then immediately went crying to my grandfather.”

I frowned.

He stepped closer.

“First you threaten suicide whenever you want attention, and now you've decided to use Grandpa instead. Is that your newest way of trying to make me care?”

I wanted to explain what had happened, but the contempt in his eyes made me hesitate.

“I wasn't trying to hurt myself,” I said quietly. “I just forgot that I'm allergic to peanuts.”

His eyebrows lifted.

“You forgot?”

He gave a humorless laugh.

“What's next, Adeline? Are you going to tell me you've forgotten your own name, too?”