The doctor Julian had brought in was a man named Dr. Aris, a silver-haired neurologist with a voice as smooth as polished stone. He didn't look like the overworked staff Rhea had seen at the city hospital. He looked expensive. He looked like the kind of man who was paid to see exactly what Julian Vane wanted him to see.
Julian stood by the window, his back to them, but Rhea could feel his gaze reflected in the glass.
"Now, Miss Silvan," Dr. Aris said, clicking a small penlight. "Follow the light with your eyes. No head movement."
Rhea obeyed. She kept her expression neutral, her breathing steady. She had spent years in marketing, sitting across from aggressive clients and keeping a "poker face" while her internal strategies shifted. This was no different.
"Any dizziness? Nausea?"
"Just a dull ache," Rhea said, her voice soft. "And the... the blank spots. It's like looking at a map where all the ink has been washed away."
Dr. Aris hummed, scribbling on a digital tablet. "Retrograde amnesia is a complex beast. The brain often shuts down access to traumatic or stressful periods to protect the psyche. In your case, the accident was quite severe."
Julian turned around then. "How long, Doctor? When will she remember our life together?"
The way he said our life together made Rhea's skin crawl. He sounded so sincere, so pained, that if she didn't know he was lying, she would have reached out to comfort him.
"It's impossible to say," Dr. Aris replied, tucking the tablet under his arm. "Forcing it can cause more harm than good. The best treatment is a stable, loving environment. Familiarity. Safety. Exactly what you're providing here, Mr. Vane."
Julian walked over and placed a hand on Rhea's shoulder. His grip was firm, a silent command to stay still. "She'll have everything she needs. I've cleared my schedule for the week to be with her."
"Excellent," Aris said. He turned back to Rhea. "Don't be alarmed if you feel flashes of intense emotion without context. Your body remembers what your mind has suppressed. Trust your partner. He's been very thorough in your care."
Thorough was an understatement, Rhea thought.
Once the doctor was escorted out, the room fell into a heavy silence. Julian didn't move his hand from her shoulder. He stood there, looking down at her, the mask of the "worried fiancé" slipping just enough to reveal the cold calculation underneath.
"You did well," Julian whispered. "You looked tired, though. I think a change of scenery would be good for you."
"You said something about dinner?" Rhea asked. She needed to get out of this room. She needed to see the world outside these gates, even if it was from the back of his car.
"I did. But first, there's something you need to see."
He led her toward a small sitting area in the corner of the suite where a large television was mounted on the wall. He picked up a remote and pressed a button.
The screen flickered to life, showing a grainy, high-angle security feed of a jewelry store. Rhea recognized it instantly. It was the boutique where she and Sarah used to go window-shopping.
The time stamp on the video was from two hours ago.
On the screen, Leo and Sarah were standing at a glass counter. They weren't mourning Rhea's condition. They were laughing. Leo was holding up a diamond tennis bracelet, clipping it onto Sarah's wrist. He leaned in and kissed her cheek, and Sarah beamed, admiring the way the stones caught the light.
Rhea felt a sharp, cold pang in her chest. Seeing it in a flashback was one thing; seeing them celebrate her "tragedy" in real-time was another. They thought she was a vegetable. They thought they had won.
"They used your emergency credit card," Julian said, his voice devoid of emotion. "The one Leo told the paramedics was lost during the crash. He didn't lose it, Rhea. He took it from your purse while you were unconscious."
Rhea gripped the armrest of her chair. "Why are you showing me this?"
"Because I want you to understand the world you came from," Julian said. He leaned over her, his face inches from hers. "That man didn't just cheat on you. He robbed you. He was planning to bleed you dry while you recovered."
Julian reached out and turned her face toward him. "I could have stopped that transaction. I could have had the police arrest them right there in the store. But I didn't. Do you know why?"
Rhea shook her head, her eyes stinging.
"Because I want them to get comfortable," Julian whispered. "I want them to spend every cent they think they've stolen. I want them to move Sarah into your apartment. I want them to feel like they've escaped. And then, when they are at their happiest... I'm going to take it all back. With interest."
The sheer ruthlessness in his voice was staggering. Julian wasn't just protecting her; he was conducting a symphony of revenge.
"You're using me," Rhea whispered. "To get to them?"
Julian laughed, a low, dry sound. "No, Rhea. I'm using them to show you who I am. I don't need a reason to crush a bug like Leo Thorne. I'm doing this for you. So that when your memory finally returns, the only thing left of your past will be the ashes I've gathered for you."
He stood up and held out his hand. "Go get dressed. We're going to a gallery opening. It's time the city saw that Julian Vane's fiancée is alive and well."
"People will ask questions," Rhea said, standing up. Her heart was racing. A gallery opening meant cameras. It meant people who might actually know she wasn't Julian's girlfriend.
"Let them ask," Julian said, his eyes flashing with a dark challenge. "I've spent ten years making sure people believe what I tell them to believe. By tomorrow morning, the entire world will know you belong to me."
Rhea walked toward the closet, her mind spinning. Julian was inviting the world to watch their lie. He was confident—too confident.
She pulled a deep emerald silk dress from the rack. It was a bold color, the color of envy and power. If she was going to be a puppet in Julian Vane's theater, she was going to be the most captivating one he had ever seen.
She had been the "sensible" girlfriend for Leo for three years. She had played small. She had played safe.
But as she zipped up the dress and looked at her reflection—the bandage gone, replaced by a clever styling of her dark hair—she didn't see the victim anymore.
Julian wanted a queen to stand beside him? Fine. She would play the part. But while he was busy watching Leo and Sarah, Rhea would be watching him.
She was going to find out exactly what Julian Vane was hiding behind that "sweet, possessive" smile. Because a man doesn't forge a two-year-old engagement just for a girl he "watched from afar."
Julian was hiding a secret, and Rhea was going to use her amnesia to dig it up.