The Surrogate Revenge

CHAPTER 13 — THE ONE WHO REMEMBERED

HEATHER’S POV

The next morning, I finished breakfast in my room before the rehabilitation instructor arrived, and by then I was already tired of looking at the same walls.

When she came in, she didn't waste time repeating everything the doctor had told me the day before. Instead, she helped me settle into the wheelchair and explained that today's session would focus on controlled movements, balance, and rebuilding the strength I had lost rather than trying to force my legs to do something they weren't ready to do.

I listened without arguing, mostly because I had finally realized that fighting every instruction wasn't going to make me independent any faster.

“Try shifting your weight slightly to the left,” she instructed as she positioned my hands against the chair. “Don't rush it. Hold yourself there for a few seconds, then slowly return to the center.”

I followed her instructions, concentrating on keeping myself steady even though the movement made my arms and stomach muscles ache.

The first attempt was awkward, and I nearly lost my balance, but the instructor caught my shoulder before I could lean too far. She helped me reset my position and asked me to try again, and this time I managed to hold myself for several seconds without her assistance.

It wasn't some dramatic improvement, but when she told me I had corrected my balance on my own, I couldn't stop the small smile that appeared on my face.

“That was better than the first attempt,” she said as she watched me carefully. “Tomorrow we'll build from this.”

“I suppose that's something,” I replied as I looked down at my hands, trying not to sound too pleased with myself.

When she turned to put away the equipment, I quietly repeated the movement once more without waiting for her instruction, and although it was still difficult, I managed to hold my balance. I didn't tell her that I had tried again, but the satisfaction stayed with me after she left the room.

The mansion was quieter after that, and for the first time since I had arrived, I began noticing how naturally everyone seemed to move through their day. The staff knew exactly when meals should be served, which rooms needed attention, and where everything belonged, while I was still getting used to having people do things for me that I had once handled without thinking.

Dominic had already left for his military responsibilities, Ryder was back at work with his medical duties, and Jermaine had gone to his law firm, which meant I wasn't constantly surrounded by three brothers waiting to see whether I needed something.

I appreciated the space, even though I still felt like a guest living inside someone else's life.

I was resting against the pillows later that afternoon when the bedroom door opened, and Jermaine walked inside with a leather folder beneath one arm.

He looked as though he had come directly from his law firm, his tie slightly loosened and his expression carrying the focused look I had started associating with him whenever he was thinking about something important.

He placed the folder on the table before looking at me, and for a moment I assumed he had returned to discuss the documents we'd examined the previous day.

“How are you feeling after the rehabilitation?” he asked as he pulled the chair closer to the bed.

“Tired, but better than I expected,” I admitted as I adjusted the pillow behind my back. “I actually managed one of the exercises twice without help.”

A small approving smile appeared on his face before disappearing beneath his usual calm expression. “That's good. The specialist knows what she's doing, so let her set the pace.”

“I will,” I promised, then glanced at the folder. “Is that about Adrian?”

“No,” he answered as he rested his hands on his knees. “It's something else. Someone has arrived to see you.”

My attention immediately shifted toward him. “Who?”

He hesitated for a moment before answering, as though he wanted to make sure I understood what he was about to tell me.

“He knew Elara before she disappeared. He knew her personally, and he's been looking for her for years.”

The idea made me uncomfortable almost immediately. I had only just begun getting used to the idea that the Williams family might actually be telling me the truth, and now another person was waiting outside who apparently remembered a version of me that I couldn't even recognize. I wasn't sure I wanted another stranger staring at me and telling me stories about who I used to be.

“Does he know that I don't remember him?” I asked as I watched Jermaine's expression.

“He does,” he replied calmly. “I've already explained that you don't have those memories.”

“And he still wants to see me?”

“He does.”

I looked toward the window for a moment, thinking about what that meant. I could refuse and remain comfortable with what I already knew, or I could meet him and possibly learn something useful about the life I had lost. Curiosity eventually won over my hesitation, but I wasn't willing to surrender control of the situation.

“Fine,” I said as I looked back at Jermaine. “I'll meet him, but I'm not pretending to remember something I don't. If he tells me about Elara and I don't recognize it, I'm going to say so.”

“You should,” Jermaine replied as he stood. “You don't owe anyone a memory you don't have.”

I watched him walk toward the door before stopping him with another question. “Why does he want to see me so badly?”

Jermaine turned back toward me, considering his answer before speaking. “Because he knew you before you disappeared. For someone who believed you were gone for eighteen years, seeing you alive is probably difficult to explain.”

He left after that, giving me a few minutes alone before bringing the visitor inside. I stared around the room as I waited,

The door eventually opened, and Jermaine stepped inside before moving aside to let the visitor enter.

The man was tall, dressed simply, and looked completely ordinary until his eyes landed on me. He stopped so suddenly that I immediately noticed, because the expression on his face changed in a way I had never seen before.

It was as if he had walked into the room expecting to find a memory and had instead found the person he had spent years believing was gone forever.

He didn't speak at first. He simply stared at me, his eyes moving over my face as though he were comparing every feature with a picture he had carried in his mind for years.

I felt my fingers tighten around the blanket, and the familiar discomfort returned as I realized he was looking at me the same way the others had, as though he could see someone inside me that I couldn't see myself.

The man finally stepped closer, but there was no interrogation in his expression and no demand that I remember him. There was only shock, relief, and something deeper that I couldn't yet understand.

His eyes remained fixed on mine as his voice finally broke through the silence, carrying a softness that immediately made me realize he hadn't spoken the name in years.

“Elara...” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly as he stared at me. “It's really you.”