Chapter 4 Phase 1 (Coming Home)

William stepped out from the alley, his eyes scanning the pavement. The moment he saw the blood, his stomach dropped.

"Max," he whispered, voice sharp, "shouldn't we go to the hospital? What if she's seriously hurt? What if she loses her memory?" He looked back toward the street like he expected to see someone else coming to take responsibility. "This is risky. What exactly are we doing? Is this even right?"

Max remained calm, hands in his pockets. "She'll be fine," he said, like it was already decided. "I know how she was bleeding-it looked worse than it is. And Jonathan's a billionaire. He'll make sure she gets the best care money can buy."

William shook his head slowly. "I don't know, Max. I don't."

But Max was already walking toward the car. "Come on. Let's go home."

They got in and drove off, leaving behind the bloodstained pavement and the weight of uncertainty William couldn't shake.

Back at the house, Max didn't say much. He dropped his keys on the console table and walked straight to his office. The space was clean, and controlled. Papers were neatly stacked on the desk, blueprints rolled out, and glossy images of the beachfront hotel spread like a sales pitch waiting to happen.

He began gathering everything-contracts, permits, photos, proposals. The upcoming meeting with Jonathan and his board was his shot, the moment he'd been grooming for months. As he arranged the documents into a sleek black folder, he paused and looked at one of the pictures-a 3D render of the hotel lobby, all polished stone and soft lighting.

Max took the folder and walked to his room. He stood by the window, folder in hand, gaze fixed on nothing.

The next day after getting discharged from the hospital, Jonathan decided to take Ophelia home as agreed.

Martin kept glancing over at her as the car moved through quiet streets. She sat beside him, wrapped in a soft blanket Jonathan had handed her, eyes distant but alert.

"You're gonna be alright," Martin said gently. "We've got you. Okay?"

She nodded slowly but said nothing.

"What's your name?" he asked after a beat.

She blinked. "I... I don't know,( amnesia remember)

Martin tried to keep his tone light. "Alright, no problem. Let's come up with one."

She looked at him, puzzled.

"How about Tina?" he offered.

She made a face. "No... that sounds weird."

"Okay, okay. Marta?"

She scrunched her nose. "That sounds old."

Martin laughed. "Tough critic."

There was a quiet pause as she looked down at the wallet she still held. She opened it slowly, flipping through the contents until her eyes landed on a laminated card.

"This says Leah," she said softly. "Leah... maybe that's my name."

Martin leaned in. "Library card?"

She nodded.

"Well, that settles it," he said. "Leah it is."

She smiled faintly. "Yeah... Leah."

The black gates of Jonathan's mansion opened smoothly as the car approached, revealing a winding driveway flanked by manicured hedges and glass sculptures that caught the early morning light. The mansion itself rose like something out of a magazine-modern, angular, all clean lines and towering glass walls.

Leah's mouth parted slightly in awe. "This place is... huge."

Martin stared too, eyes wide. "Jonathan, you've been living here for two years and this is the first time I've seen your house?"

Jonathan didn't answer. He just kept driving, eyes fixed ahead.

"You are a terrible friend," Martin muttered, though there was no real anger in his voice.

Jonathan parked in the garage and stepped out. He opened the back door and helped Leah out with a kind of quiet focus. She moved slowly, still weak, but her feet were steady.

"This way," Jonathan said, leading them through the side entrance.

Inside, the air was cool and faintly scented with citrus. The living room opened like a palace-vaulted ceilings, floors that gleamed, and a chandelier that looked like frozen rain suspended in the air. Plush furniture in cream and gold. Soft jazz played from speakers hidden in the walls.

Leah turned in place, taking it all in.

"It's like a museum," she whispered.

Jonathan gave a small nod and gestured toward a hallway. "Come. You can stay in one of the rooms downstairs."

He opened a wide oak door and revealed a guest room that looked more like a luxury suite. The bed was massive, layered in soft blankets. The windows were tall, and the curtains swayed gently from the airflow above.

"This is yours," he said.

Leah stepped inside slowly, touched the edge of the bed, then looked at him. "Thank you."

Jonathan just gave her a nod. "Rest. Martin and I will make breakfast."

He left the room, Martin trailing behind him, still muttering about hidden mansions and secret rich people's behavior.

The door clicked shut. Leah sat quietly on the edge of the bed, her fingers grazing the smooth fabric of the blanket. The room was stunning-more beautiful than anything she remembered. But it didn't feel safe. Not completely.

She glanced toward the door, then back at the ceiling.

Will this really work? she wondered.

Jonathan didn't seem at all like Max had described him. He wasn't warm. Wasn't interested in small talk. He had helped her out of the car like a polite stranger, not someone ready to save her or take her in. His face had no tells-no smile, no frown. Just blank, unreadable calm.

Max said he'd take care of everything, she thought. That Jonathan would help me, protect me. But what if Max was wrong? What if this job isn't as easy as he made it sound?

She lay back slowly, lost in the spiral of her thoughts-and then winced.

"Ouch," she hissed through clenched teeth.

Her head throbbed the moment it touched the pillow, and a sharp ache lanced through her left shoulder. She had completely forgotten.

The car, The impact.

The weight of it slammed back into her mind like a wave-flashes of headlights, the dull slam of her body against the hood, then blackness. Her chest tightened. "I could have died," she thought

She turned her face toward the ceiling, trying to calm her breath. The chandelier in the hallway cast soft shadows across the room, gentle shapes that flickered like thoughts she couldn't quite catch.

Her eyelids grew heavy.

And despite everything-her doubts, her pain, the ache in her body and mind-Leah slowly drifted off to sleep.