Chapter 4 The Illusion Of The Truth

Emilia sat frozen in the wheelchair as Julian wheeled her toward the sleek black car waiting outside the hospital. The warm evening air brushed against her skin, but instead of comfort, a chill ran down her spine. The world outside felt different-too loud, too unfamiliar.

Julian had handled all her discharge paperwork, speaking in hushed tones with the doctors while she sat in silence. He had taken control of everything as if it was his right.

The moment they stepped outside, cameras flashed.

"Miss Hayes! Over here!"

"Emilia, how are you feeling after the accident?"

"Are the wedding plans still on?"

Paparazzi.

The overwhelming barrage of voices made her head throb. Emilia raised a hand to shield her eyes, her pulse racing.

Julian's grip on her shoulder tightened. "Ignore them," he murmured before turning to his driver. "Get the door."

The car door swung open, and Julian helped her inside. As soon as he settled in beside her, the driver pulled away, leaving the chaos behind.

Emilia let out a slow breath, pressing her fingers to her temples. "Why are they so interested in me?"

Julian sighed. "Because you're my fiancée, and they'll spin any story they can."

Something about the way he said it made her uneasy. Was it true? Were they really just engaged, or was there something more beneath the surface?

She turned to him. "Julian... how did we meet?"

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "You don't remember?"

She shook her head.

His lips pressed together before he exhaled, as if deciding how much to reveal. "We met at a charity gala two years ago. You were there with your friend, and I... I couldn't take my eyes off you." His voice softened, but his gaze remained unreadable. "It took months for me to convince you to go on a date with me. But once you did, we became inseparable."

Inseparable.

The word echoed in her mind, but there was no familiar warmth, no memory surfacing to confirm his story.

Julian reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Don't push yourself too hard. The memories will return when you're ready."

She forced a smile. But deep inside, she wasn't sure if she wanted them to.

---

The elevator ride to Julian's penthouse was silent. Emilia's fingers curled around the armrest of her wheelchair, anxiety coiling in her stomach.

When the doors slid open, a breathtakingly luxurious apartment stretched before her. Floor-to-ceiling windows displayed the city skyline, and the scent of expensive cologne and polished wood filled the air.

Julian wheeled her inside, and she couldn't help but notice how pristine everything was. Too perfect. As if no one truly lived here.

"This is home," Julian said, watching her closely. "Our home."

Emilia swallowed hard. "Right."

He wheeled her to a bedroom at the end of the hall. The room was grand but impersonal. No personal pictures, no signs of a life shared between two lovers.

"I'll let you rest," Julian said, stepping back. "If you need anything, just call for me."

She nodded, and with one last glance, he left, shutting the door behind him.

Emilia exhaled shakily. Something wasn't right.

She turned to the nightstand, her gaze falling on a framed photograph. Slowly, she picked it up.

It was her and Julian, standing at what looked like a gala. She was in a shimmering gown, her arm linked with his.

She studied the image, willing a memory to return. But as she traced her fingers over her own smiling face, a strange thought surfaced.

Why did the woman in the photo look... different?

She was the same, yet there was something off like a version of herself that didn't quite belong.

Her fingers trembled as she placed the frame back down.

Who was she before the accident? And why did it feel like the truth was just out of reach?

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P.s i apologize for this chapter being too short I'm currently strong that why...