The Billionaire's Intertwined Affair

Beginning

I woke up with no memories at all.

As my eyes adjusted to the light, the first thing that greeted me was the sterile whiteness of the ceiling above. The room was enveloped in an eerie silence, punctuated only by the rhythmic beeping of the ventilator, a constant reminder of my fragile existence.

Slowly, I attempted to move my hands and sit up, yearning to take in the entirety of my surroundings. A few seconds later, the door swung open, and a figure emerged clad in a sleek black suit. I fixed my gaze upon him, desperately searching for any flicker of recognition, but his name and our connection remained locked away in the depths of my lost memories.

"Finally, you're awake," he stated in a tone devoid of emotion, making it impossible to discern whether his words were filled with genuine relief.

"W-Who are you?" I winced in pain, forcing the words out through trembling lips.

"I'm your husband. I couldn't wait any longer. Make sure to recover quickly. We’ll get married soon," he declared, his expression remaining inscrutable.

His words hung in the air, and a shiver of unease coursed through my veins. The absence of any emotional attachment or sense of familiarity left me with an unsettling feeling. Though my mind was a blank canvas, my heart couldn't deny the truth of its own emotions.

Without a word, the man who claimed to be my husband departed, leaving me alone with my fragmented thoughts. Moments later, two nurses entered the room, their gentle presence bringing a modicum of comfort amidst the confusion.

"How are you feeling, Madam Regina?" one of them inquired, her warm smile offering a glimpse of genuine care in this unfamiliar world.

"I... I can't remember anything," I confessed, appreciating the presence of someone who seemed genuinely concerned about my well-being, providing a glimmer of solace after emerging from a seemingly endless slumber.

As I cast my gaze around the room, slowly piecing together my surroundings, the realization dawned upon me that I was confined within the sterile walls of a hospital. The nurse continued her ministrations, carefully removing the bandages that obscured my face.

"You have been here for over two years, Madam. We are truly overjoyed that you have regained consciousness, even without the recollection of your past. Sir Villareal has been faithfully visiting you every week," she confided, her voice carrying a touch of heartfelt warmth.

"You are incredibly fortunate to have such a devoted husband. Can you imagine? Despite the passage of time, he has never once considered canceling your wedding, clinging onto the tiniest glimmer of hope that you would awaken," chimed in the other nurse, her voice filled with a contagious sense of joy.

As their words hung in the air, a whirlwind of emotions swirled within me, mingling with the confusion and uncertainty. Was the enigmatic, seemingly stoic man truly my husband? The question lingered, casting a shadow of doubt over the entirety of my fragmented existence.

After the nurses carefully removed the bandages from my face, they handed me a delicate hand mirror. With a mix of curiosity and trepidation, I gazed at my reflection, trying to comprehend the person staring back at me. I gently touched my face, feeling the lingering tenderness and small scars that adorned my body and legs. Each twinge of pain served as a vivid reminder of the ordeal I had endured.

"Madam Regina, your beauty remains as captivating as ever. Oh, everyone will surely be overjoyed at the impending wedding," one of the nurses remarked with a wide smile.

However, her words failed to ignite any excitement within me. At this moment, all I yearned for was to reclaim my true identity and unravel the mysteries of the past two years.

During my journey of recovery, the man they claimed was my husband visited the hospital every day. Yet, I couldn't fathom why I felt no connection to him. If he truly was my husband, shouldn't my heart stir in recognition? But there was no trace of longing whenever he came to see me. I couldn't shake the feeling that his visits were driven by obligation or perhaps a hidden agenda.

"I only invited a few guests to our wedding. The decision is yours whether—"

"I don't want to get married," I interrupted, noticing the darkening of his expression, as if he had anticipated my response.

His gaze bore into me with intensity, and I fought valiantly to resist, but my efforts proved futile.

"I need time for myself. I want to reclaim all of my memories," I added, averting my gaze from him.

"You can't back out of this wedding, Regina. Our families have already made their decision, so you have no choice but to marry me."

Since the day I woke up, not a single family member had visited me. At that moment, I found myself yearning that I had never awakened at all. Despite the absence of memories, I immediately understood the depth of pain and hardship I had endured.

According to the nurses, I was one of the victims of a horrifying bomb explosion. It had occurred in the midst of my father's political campaign. Till this day, the investigation had made little progress in uncovering the mastermind behind the atrocity. Almost a hundred lives were lost, making it a miraculous twist of fate that I was granted another chance at life.

I yearn to unravel the truth, as an unsettling feeling tells me that something is amiss. Deep inside, I sense that this is not my true self, that this is not the life I have grown accustomed to.

Yet, regardless of whom I inquire, their responses echo each other. They all claim that I am Regina, the devoted fiancée of Kiro Pravin Villareal, the esteemed CEO of the largest company in the cruising industry.

Could it be possible that they have all conspired to fabricate a lie?

"Make sure to rest adequately and prepare yourself. They will come here later to see you," Kiro's voice turned cold as he left me alone in the room.

He granted me an additional month to recuperate, but he continued to reiterate our impending wedding.

Soon after the doctor permitted me to return home, my fiancé escorted me to his opulent mansion. I found myself incapable of protesting, intimidated by his commanding presence. Fearful of engaging in conflict, especially since not a single memory lingers in my mind.

"Welcome back, Madam Regina. The entire mansion mourned your absence," shared an elderly servant, whose years of loyal service were evident in her words.

"Can you recall the activities I used to engage in frequently?" I inquired, hopeful that revisiting familiar tasks might hasten the return of my lost memories.

"You were always here at the house, madam, preparing delectable meals. Sir Villareal was overjoyed during those times, for he had a truly wonderful wife," she added with a gleaming smile.

"But if I am truly his wife... does he genuinely love me?" I sought confirmation.

I perceive no hint of affection in that man's eyes; he gazes upon me as if I were a complete stranger.

"Indeed, madam. Every day, he would bring home flowers upon his return from work. He never dined out, always preferring to come back here, enchanted by the culinary prowess of his beautiful wife," she explained, her voice brimming with delight.

Two years have elapsed since then, and within that extended period, much has changed. Whenever I look into my husband's eyes, I fail to discern even a trace of happiness. Perhaps he has developed feelings for another woman, and he merely married me for the sake of business.

As the night descended, my unsettling suspicions grew stronger. We all gathered for a formal dinner, including my husband-to-be, Kiro, and his parents. Seated beside me was my own father, a prominent figure in the business world, who owned a vast industrial empire.

"The wedding is just a week away," my father announced with a commanding tone, emphasizing the significance of the upcoming event.

As I observed each face around the table, a distinct air of ambition and business acumen permeated their expressions.

"Regina, is there anything specific you'd like to incorporate into the wedding?" Kiro's mother inquired, attempting to include me in the conversation.

I found myself unable to voice any desires or preferences. It felt daunting to contradict their plans, especially when it seemed as though everything had been meticulously orchestrated. Throughout the dinner, the topic revolved solely around business ventures and strategies. Kiro's family possessed extensive real estate holdings and wielded considerable influence in the cruising industry. Their intention was clear: to further solidify their position by marrying Kiro to me, the daughter of a respected governor. The political connections between our families were undeniable.

In that moment, I felt like an outsider, a mere pawn in their grand scheme, with no consideration for my own emotions and desires.

"Don't worry, nothing can halt the wedding now. My daughter is ready," my father proclaimed, sealing my fate with unwavering determination.

Though my memories remained elusive, the suffocating weight of their decisions hung heavily upon me. Seeking solace, I excused myself from the table, my head throbbing with a growing sense of unease. Unbeknownst to me, Kiro silently followed, his presence a constant reminder of my uncertain position.

Alone in my room, I attempted to concentrate, hoping to trigger a recollection, any fragment of my past. But my efforts were interrupted as Kiro gently grasped my arm, his touch both reassuring and unsettling.

"Stop trying to force your memories to resurface. It will only cause you unnecessary stress," he implored, his voice filled with a mix of concern and frustration.

His words jarred me, twisting my expression. Despite my prolonged state of unconsciousness, I couldn't dismiss the nagging feeling that something was amiss. Kiro's actions, his aloofness, and the absence of genuine affection weighed heavily on my heart. If he truly loved me, and if I were his cherished fiancée, would he not treat me with tenderness and warmth? Doubt gnawed at the edges of my consciousness, planting seeds of suspicion within me.

As the truth unraveled before me, I mustered the courage to confront him directly. "I know deep down that I am not your wife," I asserted, hoping to chip away at his facade.

His gaze hardened, and he shot back, challenging me to provide evidence for my claim. My mind raced, desperately searching for any fragments of memory or tangible proof, but it was futile. I had no recollections to support my instincts, leaving me vulnerable to his control.

The weight of his words settled heavily on my shoulders as he advanced toward me, closing the distance between us. His nearness overwhelmed my senses, his intoxicating scent enveloping me, making it difficult to resist his magnetic pull.

"Regina, you can't escape from me," he stated firmly, as if foretelling a predetermined fate. "Whether you like it or not, we are bound together, destined to live under the same roof."

His words echoed in my mind, entwined with a mixture of fear and uncertainty. How could I break free from this enigmatic man when I had no memories to guide me?

Summoning the remnants of my strength, I mustered the courage to voice my resistance once more. "I do not want to marry you," I asserted, my words laced with determination.

His expression hardened, but he remained unyielding. "Regina, you have no choice but to agree to our marriage. Think about our child. Do you want her to grow up without her mother?"

Those words sent a jolt of shock through me, adding another layer of complexity to the tangled web of our lives. My mind raced to comprehend the implications of his words. 

How could I have a child when my own identity was shrouded in uncertainty?

Overwhelmed and with countless questions swirling in my mind, I could only manage a whispered plea for clarity. "Child? What are you talking about?"

He regarded me with a mix of sorrow and determination, his voice filled with an unexpected tenderness. "Regina, we have a five-year-old daughter. She's been eagerly awaiting your return from her school trip. She misses her mother deeply."