THE MORNING AFTER
906 Words
Chapter Three
The Morning After
By Monday morning, the wedding had become someone else's problem.
At least, that was what I told myself.
I had spent most of Sunday pretending Adrian Vale hadn't walked into his own wedding, stared at me as though he'd seen a ghost, and called me by a name that meant absolutely nothing to me.
It wasn't working.
Neither was the coffee.
“You're doing it again.”
I looked up from my laptop.
Sophie was standing in the doorway of my office, holding two cups of coffee and wearing the expression of someone who had been waiting patiently for me to admit something.
“Doing what?”
“Thinking.”
“I think quite often.”
“Not like this.”
She set the coffee beside me and pulled out the chair opposite my desk. “You've been staring at the same email for ten minutes.”
I glanced at my screen.
She was right.
The email was from a designer I was supposed to meet that afternoon, and I'd somehow managed to read the first sentence twelve times without taking in a word.
I closed the laptop.
“I'm fine.”
“You're lying.”
“I've known you too long.”
“You've known me long enough to know I'm usually right.”
I took a sip of coffee.
She waited.
I sighed.
“Fine. I'm confused.”
“About Adrian?”
I gave her a look.
“Who else?”
Sophie leaned back in her chair. “I spent half the drive home wondering whether you were secretly hiding an entire marriage from me.”
“I wasn't.”
“Good. Because that would have been very inconvenient.”
I laughed.
Then she became serious.
“Do you remember anything about this Elena?”
“No.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Nothing.”
She nodded slowly.
I'd already asked myself the same question too many times.
Elena.
The name had followed me home from the wedding. It had been there when I brushed my teeth, when I tried to sleep, when I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't remember why my heart was beating so quickly.
I had searched my old emails.
My social media.
Even the contacts on my phone.
Nothing.
There was no Elena.
There had never been an Elena.
At least, not in the life I remembered.
“Maybe you look like his ex,” Sophie said.
“Apparently.”
“Could be a coincidence.”
“Maybe.”
She studied me.
“You don't believe that.”
I looked down at my coffee.
“I don't know what I believe.”
That was the truth.
There was something about Adrian's reaction that made coincidence feel too simple.
The problem was that I had nothing to replace it with.
No memories.
No explanation.
Nothing.
My phone buzzed on the desk.
I glanced at the screen.
An unfamiliar number.
I ignored it.
It buzzed again.
Sophie looked at me.
“Answer it.”
“Why?”
“Because maybe it's your secret billionaire husband.”
“Very funny.”
The phone buzzed a third time.
I picked it up.
“Hello?”
There was a pause.
Then a man's voice.
“Ms. Brooks?”
“Yes?”
“This is Daniel Mercer. I'm calling on behalf of Mr. Vale.”
My stomach tightened.
Sophie immediately sat up.
I turned away from her.
“Why is Adrian Vale calling me?”
“He isn't calling you directly. Mr. Vale would like to speak with you.”
I frowned.
“About what?”
Another pause.
“About Elena.”
I said nothing.
The name suddenly felt much heavier than it had yesterday.
“I don't think there's anything to discuss.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, Ms. Brooks.”
His voice remained polite.
“But Mr. Vale believes there is.”
I glanced at Sophie.
She mouthed, What did he say?
I ignored her.
“Tell him I'm not interested.”
“I will.”
The call ended.
I placed the phone face down on the desk.
Sophie stared at me.
“Well?”
I leaned back in my chair.
“Apparently, Adrian Vale still hasn't figured out that I'm not Elena.”
She was quiet for a moment.
Then she said, “Or he has.”
I looked at her.
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
She picked up her coffee.
“But I think that's what I'd be worried about.”
I wanted to tell her she was being dramatic.
Instead, I opened my laptop again.
There was work to do.
And whatever Adrian Vale thought he knew about me, I had no intention of letting a stranger's confusion interfere with my life.
I'd built that life carefully.
I knew where I'd come from.
I knew where I was going.
I knew my name.
Lilian Brooks.
There was nothing mysterious about it.
Nothing missing.
Nothing worth questioning.
At least, that's what I believed when I walked into my first meeting that morning.
I had no idea that across the city, Adrian Vale was sitting behind his desk with an old photograph in front of him.
And in that photograph was a woman who looked exactly like me.
Except she was smiling.
And on her left hand was a wedding ring.
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