Ava's Point of view
The air swelled with anxiety the instant Rachel went further into the ballroom. The cameras hadn't quit flashing from our planned photo-op yet, but now they had a new target. Damian's ex-fiancee. The woman the city once imagined he'd marry. The person who had disappeared almost as mysteriously as I had.
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding against my ribs like a war drum. Her smirk was not just haughty; it was poisonous. And worse? It was intended directly at me. "Well, this got interesting," I said under my breath, forcing a slight smile as I leaned closer to Damian for effect. His jaw clinched. "She wasn't supposed to be here, why is she here?"
"Clearly," I said, still smiling but these questions are in my heart as we turned to greet her.
Rachel arrived with all the grace of a queen reclaiming her lost kingdom. She donned a crimson silk gown with her black hair wearing over one shoulder and a diamond choker that sparkled like poison around her neck.
"Rachel," Damian said uneasily.
She raised an eyebrow. "No kiss?" No warm greetings? Tsk, Damian. "Popularity has made you cold."
I walked slightly in front of him, my smile unwavering. "Hello, Rachel. I'm Ava Blackwood, Damian's fiancée."
For a split second, something erupted in her eyes. Something sharp. Her eyes engulfed over me from head to toe, evaluating each component on me.
"Ah, yes." "I read the news release. Her tone was sweet and venomous, like she got wickedness is in her bone marrow. "The unexpected engagement caught everyone off guard. "So romantic, yet so quick."
"It's funny," I replied, matching her smile with my own. "Some people just fit."
"Do they?" she wondered, turning her head. "Because the Damian I knew wasn't the type to fall again so quickly."
She brought her gaze back to him. "Or did you forget about that too?" My stomach sank. She knew about his memory loss, but there's something about her gaze, I'm worried for how much she really knew.
Rachel smiled broadly, obviously loving the maelstrom she was making. "You see, sweetie," she explained, her voice now softer and silkier, "I returned because I understood something. There are facts buried in the past, some of which are too terrible to keep hidden forever."
Damian's eyes darkened. "Is that a threat?"
"No." She leaned forward. "It's a promise."
With that, she swept past us and disappeared into the mob. I stood motionless, repeating her words over and over again. "She knows," I murmured softly. "Damian, she knows everything."
Damian's expression was bleak. "And now, she's going to use it against us."
***
Damian's Point of View
I don't quite remember Rachel the way I keep having these flashes of those days with Ava Blackwood, but I know Rachel was trouble, ruthless and charming, is hidden her evil agenda under her beautiful smile. She always had her target, she don't misses her prey.
"She wants to destroy us." Ava's gaze met mine, angry and incomprehensible. "And she knows exactly how to do it."
We stayed at the event long enough to please the press while smiling, laughing, and performing. But behind those smiles, my mind was racing.
Who knew the truth about my memory loss?
Had Rachel discovered everything? And, if so, by what means?
Later that night, after Ava and I returned to the penthouse—still giving the media the impression of a shared living space—I made a drink and turned to her.
"We need to talk," I stated.
Ava folded her arms. "About Rachel?"
"Yes. "And what about us?"
Her posture became stiffer. "Damian—"
"I admit I was incorrect. Distant. But something is shifting. Something inside me shifts every time I spend time with you. I stared her directly in the eyes. "I am starting to remember things, Ava. Dreams, sounds, and your chuckle. I'm not sure how long it will take, but I know this—" I moved closer. "You are not a stranger." "You never were."
For the first time, I noticed tears in her eyes. She blinked quickly before turning away. "You don't know what remembering will cost you."
"I don't care."
"You should," she muttered. "Because once you remember everything… you might hate me."
That hit harder than I anticipated. "Why would I hate you?"
She didn't respond.
But I could sense it: the storm wasn't coming. It was already here.
***
Rachel's Point of View
The press was easy to operate. A stolen photo here, a remark from a "source" there, and the internet erupted with inquiries about Ava Blackwood.
They hadn't even reached the greatest part yet, not even the interesting stage.
I sipped my wine while scrolling through the headlines on my tablet. "Fiancée or Fraud?" "Damian Cross's Mysterious Lover—Tied to a Disappeared Past?" Perfect. They'd break eventually. Ava was bright, I admit, but she wasn't cruel. She had too much heart. And Damian? He was vulnerable. He had no idea what had happened to him. Yet. But he would. They both would. And when the dust fell, only one of us would remain standing.
***
Ava's Point of view
It had been three days since Rachel reappeared, and the pressure was increasing. Olivia had advised me not to react, not to give the press more ammunition—but being mute while Rachel hacked away at our perfectly crafted deception was like standing in a room slowly filling with water.
I had just ended a meeting when Sophia came into my office and slammed a tabloid on my desk.
"You need to see this."
The title made my blood run cold.
"Damian Cross's Amnesia Wasn't an Accident—Inside Sources Confirm Medical Sabotage."
Below the headline was a photo of Damian's father exiting a clinic, which I remembered all too well.
I looked up at Sophia, my heart racing. "She leaked it." "Yes, she did. And if she is willing to go this far, she will not stop until she has destroyed everything." I sat back and threaded my fingers through my hair. Rachel accelerated the timeline. Damian will soon learn everything and if he found out from someone else...
It would destroy him. Maybe even us.
I lowered my back in my chair, staring at the wall as if it had answers. But all it provided me was quiet, dense and terrible. The kind of silence that caused you to doubt everything.
Was it still a game of vengeance?
Or did I already lose control of the board?
A quiet knock came on the door.
I didn't respond. It opened anyway.
Sophia stepped forward, her countenance unreadable. She carried two mugs and placed one in front of me without speaking. I curled my hands around it, thankful for the warmth, even if my insides felt very cold.
"You know," she added softly, "you always attempt to shield everyone from the truth. But maybe you don't need protection anymore."
I didn't respond. I could not. Because if Damian found out everything about his father, about our son, the entire house of the cards would collapse.
And the worst part? I wasn't sure whether I wanted to stop it.