Episode 2
1216 Words
The estate was too quiet.
Leona sat on the edge of the guest room bed, fingers tangled in the hem of her blouse, trying to breathe. The walls were the same soft ivory they’d been years ago, the curtains still gold-trimmed and flowing like river silk. Even the scent in the air hadn’t changed—vanilla, cedarwood, money.
It should’ve felt like home. It didn’t.
It felt like a stranger’s memory.
Alora slept beside her, curled up with her teddy bear, unaware of the storm her existence had stirred. Leona reached down to stroke her curls, but her hand hovered just above her daughter’s head.
She couldn’t stop shaking.
A knock came. Sharp. Measured. Masculine.
Her breath caught. “Come in.”
The door opened, and there he was.
Adrian stood in the doorway, backlit by hallway light. Shirt half-unbuttoned, sleeves rolled. Collarbone sharp beneath pale skin. His face was unreadable.
“I need to speak with you,” he said quietly.
Leona stood, careful not to wake Alora. “She’s sleeping.”
“I know.” He glanced at the bed, his expression twitching….regret? Confusion? It vanished too fast. “Walk with me.”
She hesitated. Every part of her screamed Don’t. But curiosity was a drug, and he still had that effect on her.
She followed.
They walked along the balcony overlooking the sea. Moonlight dripped across the marble like spilled milk. The silence between them stretched too long.
Adrian leaned on the railing, hands clenched. “I don’t know who you are.”
“I know,” she said, softly.
“I don’t know why I ever married you.”
Leona flinched. “Neither did I, at first.”
He turned his head. His stare was sharp. “But I did.”
“Yes.”
“In secret?”
“Yes.”
“And I forgot all of it.”
“Seems so.”
He laughed low, bitter. “I’m a bastard, aren’t I?”
Leona looked away. “You were… complicated.”
“I need more than that.”
She met his eyes. “No, Adrian. You want more than that. But what you need is time.”
He stepped closer, too close. “Time won’t fix the gap in my mind.”
“You think I can?”
“You were my wife. You carried my child. You left without a trace. And now you expect me to believe you without question?”
“No,” she said, her voice low and tired. “I don’t expect anything from you anymore.”
Adrian stared at her. “Do you hate me?”
She didn’t blink. “Some days.”
“And the other days?”
Leona inhaled shakily. “I try not to think about you.”
A silence followed. Not awkward but heavy.
Adrian looked out at the sea. “I keep seeing your face in my dreams. But it’s not clear. Like smoke.”
“That’s memory trying to return.”
“Or imagination,” he muttered.
Leona stepped back. “I’m not here to fight with you.”
“No, you’re here to make me believe I have a daughter.” His tone was clipped.
“She’s yours, Adrian. Whether you remember her or not.”
He turned, fast. “And why the hell didn’t you come back? If she’s mine—if I meant anything to you, why did you disappear like a thief?”
Leona’s voice rose, pain laced with restraint. “Because I wasn’t safe with you.”
His face stilled.
“What?”
She swallowed. “Emotionally. Mentally. I wasn’t safe. You were changing. Becoming cruel. Cold. You wanted to own me, not love me. I had to choose between losing myself… or leaving you.”
Adrian was quiet.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low.
“I don’t remember being that man.”
Leona’s eyes filled. “Then maybe you’re lucky.”
Later that night, she couldn’t sleep.
She sat in the dark, watching Alora’s chest rise and fall. Her daughter looked peaceful, safe, and innocent.
She hadn’t meant to stay in Monte Carlo. She’d planned to sign the court papers, let them swab Alora’s cheek, and leave before Adrian had the chance to drag her back into his orbit.
But the minute he saw her… everything changed.
He didn’t remember her.
But he felt something.
She saw it in his eyes.
And that scared her more than anything.
Because if he fell for her again, she didn’t know if she had the strength to let him. Not twice.
The next morning, the test results came.
Positive. 99.97% match. Adrian Saint-Laurent was the biological father of Alora Wanjiru Saint-Laurent.
There was no press conference, no media leak. Adrian made sure of that.
Leona sat across from him in the private study, the papers between them.
He didn’t gloat.
He simply said, “She stays here.”
Leona shook her head. “No.”
“I have rights.”
“You also have no memory of her, or me. You want her to sleep in a mansion with a stranger she’s never met?”
“She’s my daughter.”
“She’s my life.”
His jaw clenched. “So what’s your plan, Leona? Keep her in Switzerland forever? Hide her from me? From her future?”
“I plan to protect her from repeating my mistakes.”
He stood abruptly, shoving the chair back. “You think I’m a monster.”
“No,” she said, standing too. “I think you’re a powerful man who lost control of his power. And I think you don’t get to rewrite the past just because you forgot it.”
He stared at her, breathing hard.
Then, softly, “But if I’m not that man anymore… would you give me a chance?”
Leona blinked.
“What?”
“I want to get to know her,” Adrian said. “And you. If you’ll let me.”
“No games?”
“No manipulation. No press. No deals.”
She stared at him.
“You’re saying this now. But when your memory returns”
“Then I’ll deal with the consequences.”
“And if you remember why I ran?”
“I’ll ask for forgiveness.”
The words struck something deep.
Leona looked away.
“We stay here. Two weeks. That’s it.”
Adrian nodded.
“And Alora stays in my room,” she added.
“Of course.”
A silence lingered.
Then he added, softly, “Thank you.”
She didn’t reply.
But something… shifted.
Not trust. Not yet.
But the door cracked open.
Later that night, Leona sat on the floor of her bedroom, back against the door. Lights off. Her chest ached from holding everything in.
She thought of the first time she met him.
That reckless, brilliant, arrogant man with eyes like grey ice. How he’d stared at her like she was a riddle. How he’d chased her like a storm. How he’d kissed her like she was the only thing that could break him.
And then he did break.
Not into pieces.
Into something darker.
But now, here he was.
Half a stranger.
Half the man she once loved.
And maybe, just maybe…
A chance to make him whole again.
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