The Billionaire’s Forgotten Bride

Shattered Pieces

The clock in the hospital suite ticked softly, a steady rhythm that mocked Isabella’s racing pulse. Her hands trembled as she clutched the leather-bound notebook Damien had left behind, almost as though he had wanted her to find it… or perhaps he had simply slipped.

She shouldn’t be doing this. Every instinct told her it was wrong—an invasion. And yet, the moment her eyes had fallen on the faint indentations on the first page—her own name, written in elegant ink—she couldn’t stop.

Isabella Cruz-Blackwood.

Her breath hitched.

Blackwood.

Her chest tightened, the name striking her like a shard of lightning across a sky she couldn’t see but could somehow feel.

She flipped further, pages whispering against her fingers. There were notes scribbled in Damien’s hand—snatches of thoughts, moments too raw to be for anyone else’s eyes.

“She doesn’t remember me. She doesn’t remember us. God, how do I live with this? She’s alive, but she’s not mine anymore.”

Isabella’s throat constricted. The words blurred, her heart hammering against her ribs as though it wanted to escape.

Us?

Her chest heaved, her vision swimming with fragmented images that didn’t quite belong to her—silver wedding bands, vows whispered against candlelight, Damien’s lips brushing hers in a kiss that burned with possession and pain.

She pressed her palms to her head, shaking violently. “No… no, this can’t be…”

The door creaked open.

She snapped the notebook shut, her breath caught in her lungs as Damien stepped inside. His gaze fell instantly to her white-knuckled grip on the leather cover. His jaw tightened, shadows darkening his face.

“That’s not yours,” he said, his voice low, dangerous.

Her lips parted. “Then why does it have my name on the first page?”

His nostrils flared, a muscle ticking in his jaw. For a moment, the unshakable billionaire looked… shaken. His composure cracked like glass beneath pressure.

“Give it back,” Damien demanded, taking a step closer. His eyes burned—not with coldness this time, but with something far more terrifying. Raw desperation.

“No,” Isabella whispered, clutching the book to her chest. “You owe me the truth.”

The silence stretched like a taut wire between them. Then Damien moved, swift as a storm. He didn’t rip the notebook from her hands, but he leaned so close she could feel the heat of his breath against her skin, smell the expensive cologne clinging to his suit.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, Isabella,” he murmured, his voice rough with restraint. “The truth will break you.”

Her pulse thudded in her throat. She should be afraid, but instead, she was angry. Angry at his control, his secrets, the way his gaze pinned her as though she belonged to him when she couldn’t even remember why.

“Maybe I’m already broken,” she whispered back.

Something flickered in Damien’s eyes—pain, longing, a desperation so deep it almost undid her.

But before either of them could speak again, the sound of raised voices drifted from outside the door. A nurse’s startled tone. A man’s low, furious growl.

Damien stiffened instantly. His entire body went rigid, protective.

“Stay here,” he ordered, his voice like steel.

But Isabella rose from the bed, heart pounding. “Who is that?”

Damien glanced at her once—an unreadable storm in his eyes—before the door burst open, revealing a man she didn’t recognize. Tall, scarred, his smile twisted with cruel satisfaction as his eyes landed on Isabella.

“Well,” the stranger drawled, ignoring Damien entirely. “Looks like she’s alive after all.”

Isabella froze, terror gripping her spine.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

The man smirked. “Let’s just say I’m the reason you don’t remember a damn thing.”

Damien moved faster than lightning, placing himself between Isabella and the stranger, his entire presence a wall of fury and danger.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Damien growled.

The man chuckled darkly. “And yet… here I am.”

Isabella’s breath shuddered in her chest, the notebook slipping from her grasp and falling to the floor. For the first time since waking, she realized—her past wasn’t just hidden.

It was hunted.