CHAPTER TWO
1384 Words
Noah’s POV
“Leave my son alone.”
Victoria Wolfe’s voice still echoes in my ears long after the security guard shuts the hospital doors behind me. The night air is cold, damp from the earlier storm, and the sound of my name—my married name—feels like a wound.
I stand there for a moment, staring at the glass doors, half-expecting Adrian to run after me.
He doesn’t.
He never does.
The rain starts again, light but steady, soaking through my jacket. My car is parked a few blocks away, but I don’t move. I just stand there, replaying the look on his face when he asked, Who the hell are you?
That look will haunt me.
I thought I was ready for anything when the doctors called. They said Adrian had been in a crash—that he was alive but disoriented. I ran to the hospital still wearing the paint-stained shirt from my studio, my hands shaking so badly I almost couldn’t sign the visitor’s form.
But I wasn’t ready for this.
For him to forget me.
For him to look at me like I was a stranger trying to ruin his life.
I drag myself toward my car, my chest tight. The city blurs under the rain, lights smeared like watercolors.
When I finally reach the driver’s seat, I sit without starting the engine. My fingers tremble as I pull out the ring that still sits in my pocket—a plain silver band, scratched and faded, with Always engraved inside.
Adrian used to say that word like it meant something.
> “I’m not good at promises, Noah,” he’d said once, lying in bed with his head on my chest. “But if I ever give you one, I’ll keep it. Always.”
I squeeze the ring until it bites into my palm.
He doesn’t remember that promise.
He doesn’t remember me.
Eventually I start the car and drive aimlessly through the wet streets. I can’t go home—not yet. The apartment feels too big without him. Everything there is us: the framed photo by the window, the mismatched mugs he bought because I liked the colors, the jacket he left on the couch after our last fight.
I end up at the pier instead. Our pier. The one where we used to walk late at night when he needed to clear his head.
I lean against the railing and pull my hood up against the rain.
We met here three years ago. I was sketching the skyline for a client; he was on the phone, yelling at someone about stocks. His voice had that kind of authority that made people listen—even me.
When he hung up, he noticed my drawing and said, “That building’s mine. You made it look less depressing than it actually is.”
I laughed, and that’s how it started.
Two years later, we were married in Florence. Just us, a small chapel, and a promise whispered against my lips.
Now it feels like a story someone else lived.
My phone buzzes. A message from an unknown number:
> Walk away, Noah. He doesn’t remember you. Don’t make things worse.
No name, but I know who it’s from.
Victoria Wolfe.
I delete the message, but my hands keep shaking.
I know her. I know how far she’ll go to protect her empire. Adrian once told me she controlled everything—the company, the board, even his brother Damian. He hated her methods but feared her power.
Now she has him exactly where she wants him: confused, dependent, and far from me.
I can’t let that happen.
---
The next morning, I go back to the hospital—clean shirt, hair combed, no trace of how much I cried last night. The nurses look uneasy when I walk in.
One of them, Teresa, an older woman with kind eyes, pulls me aside. “Mr. Reyes…” she lowers her voice, “Mrs. Wolfe gave orders not to let you in again. I’m sorry.”
I nod, though I want to scream. “Can you at least tell me how he’s doing?”
She hesitates, then whispers, “Physically fine. But… he hasn’t asked for anyone. Not even you.”
That hurts more than I expect.
I hand her a sealed envelope. “Please give this to him. It’s… something personal.”
Inside is a photo of us at the lake house—the one Adrian bought for us under a fake name. We’re sitting on the dock, barefoot, his arm around me, both of us smiling like idiots.
She promises to deliver it. I leave before anyone else sees me.
---
By afternoon, my lawyer calls. His voice is tight, nervous.
“Noah, I don’t know how to tell you this, but… Evelyn Wolfe contacted me. The company intends to challenge your marriage certificate. They’re claiming it’s fake.”
My stomach drops. “What?”
“They’ve already reached out to the Italian registrar. If they prove it’s not in the system, you could face fraud charges.”
“They’re lying,” I whisper. “We were married there. I was there.”
“I believe you,” he says softly, “but we’ll need proof. Something official.”
I hang up and press my hands to my face.
This is what they do. The Wolfes don’t fight fair. When they can’t control the truth, they destroy it.
---
By evening, I can’t sit still.
If Adrian won’t remember me, I’ll make him.
I sneak back into the hospital through the service entrance where the delivery vans unload. Teresa had told me his room number before—512.
My heart hammers as I walk down the dim corridor. The air smells of disinfectant and sleeplessness.
He’s awake, sitting up in bed, scrolling through his phone. The sight of him makes my chest ache. He looks the same—too perfect, too distant—but his eyes are different. Empty. Like the light I knew has gone out.
I knock softly.
He looks up, and his gaze hardens. “What are you doing here?”
“I had to see you.”
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
“I don’t care.”
He sighs, setting the phone aside. “Noah, right?”
The way he says my name—like it’s foreign—almost breaks me.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Noah. Your husband.”
He flinches at the word but doesn’t correct me. That’s something.
I take a step closer. “I gave the nurse a photo. Did you see it?”
He hesitates. “Yes.”
“Do you remember it?”
“No.” His voice is soft, tired. “It feels familiar, but… it’s like looking at someone else’s life.”
I draw a shaky breath. “Then let me help you remember. Let me show you what we were.”
He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be here. My mother—”
“Your mother wants to erase me.”
He looks away, jaw tightening.
I push on, desperate. “Adrian, you used to tell me you didn’t believe in fate. That everything had to be controlled. But love—love wasn’t control for you. It scared you. You said I was the first thing that did.”
Something flickers across his face—pain, confusion, maybe memory.
I step closer, my voice a whisper. “You loved me. You still do. You just don’t remember how.”
For a moment, he just stares at me. His eyes soften, the tension in his shoulders easing.
Then footsteps echo down the hall.
Victoria’s voice slices through the air. “I told you to stay away from him.”
Two guards appear behind her.
Adrian turns toward her, startled. “Mother, wait—”
“Take him out,” she orders.
The guards grab my arms. I struggle, shouting, “Adrian! You know me! You do!”
He stands frozen, eyes wide, torn between us.
And then he whispers, so quietly I almost don’t hear it:
“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
The guards drag me away, and just like that, the man I love watches me disappear again.
- Writer
