HIS ENEMY'S FORGOTTEN WIFE

Beeping. Cold. Blinding lights. Scarlett's eyelids flickered open, and agony surged through her head like a freight train. Her throat felt parched. Her body felt as if it had fallen from the heavens. Where was she? “Scarlett?” The voice was deep. Familiar. Soothing and frightening simultaneously. She slowly turned her head, and her eyes settled on a tall man who was sitting next to her hospital bed. A suit fitted his robust build as if it were tailor-made for him. His deep eyes fixed on hers, and within them, a glimmer of relief and something more appeared. "I'm present," he replied, moving in closer. "Thank goodness you're conscious." She blinked tried to speak her lips cracked. He filled a glass with water for her and brought the straw to her lips. She took slow sips while observing him. "You were involved in an accident," he said softly. “Your car was hit on the bridge. You’ve been unconscious for four days.” Accident? Her heart pounded. Her brain scrambled She rummaged through the depths of her mind, yet it was a murky emptiness. "You are secure now.” I’m here.” Scarlett licked her lips. “Who are you?” The man froze. Just for a second. His smile faded. “I’m Julian,” he said. “Your husband.” The machines beeped faster. Scarlett stared at him. “No. That… That can’t be.” “You don’t remember me?” His voice broke, just slightly. “Scarlett I’m your husband. We’ve been married for almost two years.” She nodded in refusal. "I can't recall ever being married." A nurse entered just then, saving her from further questions. But as she checked Scarlett’s vitals, the man, Julian, stood there quietly, watching. Not saying a word. Scarlett studied him. He didn’t look dangerous. He looked calm. Gentle, even. But her gut twisted. Why couldn’t she remember anything? Not her name. Not him. Not the accident. Nothing. Twelve Hours Later They released her from the hospital under Julian’s care. The doctors said she had retrograde amnesia temporary, maybe but no permanent damage. Julian’s car was sleek and black, with leather seats and a silent driver. As they pulled up to a glittering glass tower in Manhattan, she stared at it blankly. “This is home,” he said. Scarlett followed him into a luxury penthouse that smelled like expensive candles and money. Staff nodded at her, saying “welcome back, ma’am.” She smiled awkwardly. Julian gave her a tour. His tone was soft, but his eyes were sharp. Watching. Measuring. “Take your time. Rest. You’ll remember soon.” But something was off. Too perfect, too careful. At Midnight. Scarlett woke in a cold sweat. The fabric felt like silk, yet the strange room engulfed her in darkness. She quietly got out of bed and walked barefoot into the walk-in closet. Maybe something there would jog her memory. Dresses. Bags. Heels. A woman’s life hanging neatly in color-coded rows. And then she spotted it a coat not her style. She pulled it out and it was heavy. Inside, she discovered a small, vintage flip phone hidden within the lining. Her heart raced. She opened it. There were only three messages. From: E.T. “He doesn’t suspect a thing.” “Once you get the files, we expose him. You’ll be free. So will your father.” “You promised me, Scarlett. Don’t forget whose side you’re on.” Scarlett stumbled back. Files? Expose who? Julian? Was he hiding something? And who was E.T.? The door creaked behind her. She spun around, clutching the coat. Julian stood in the doorway, shirtless, calm as ever. “You okay?” he asked. She hid the phone behind her back. “Y-Yeah. I couldn’t sleep.” He stepped closer, gaze narrowing. “Bad dream?” Scarlett forced a smile. “I guess.” Julian’s eyes dropped to the coat. Then back to her. “You used to wear that every time you visited your father. Said it made you feel braver.” "I can't recall." "You will," he replied, gently pushing a lock of hair away from her face. “Memories are tricky. Sometimes they come back at the worst possible time.” His words sank like stones in her stomach. The next morning, Julian was gone early. The maid brought breakfast, smiling kindly. Scarlett didn’t eat. She needed answers. She snuck back into the closet and grabbed the phone again. Dialed the only saved number. It rang once. Twice. Then "Scarlett?" the man's voice croaked. "Where on earth have you been?" “Who is it?” she murmured. “You don’t recall who I am?” he seemed hurt. “It’s Elias. Elias Thorne. Julian’s brother.” Scarlett froze. “You… know me?” “We were working together. Don’t tell me he’s gotten to you already. Listen he’s dangerous. You said you’d get the files. You said we’d finish this.” “What files?” There was a pause. “You’ve really lost your memory?” She swallowed. “I think so.” Another pause. Then softly “Then you need to get out of there. Now, before he makes you forget more than just your past.”