Chapter 3 #2
When I opened my eyes again, Dr. Reed was watching the monitor beside my bed. He checked the readings, then glanced back at me. “Your heart rate was briefly very committed to proving you right.”
A small smile tugged at his mouth.
He glanced toward the other man, clearly sharing the joke with him.
The man gave him a hard stare, his expression carrying such a clear warning that Dr. Reed’s mouth flattened into a professional line.
He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to me.
“Miss Quinn, there’s an important detail about the accident that you need to understand.
You were involved in an accident, but it happened five days ago. ”
My eyes widened.
Five days?
Dr. Reed noticed my confusion and continued before I could ask.
“Your scans showed a traumatic brain injury. You were unconscious after the accident. Your loss of consciousness was a result of the trauma. Loss of consciousness can occur with an injury of this severity. You’ve been here five days.
Right now, you’re awake, responsive, and able to form new memories.
You’re answering questions appropriately, and your neurological examination is reassuring.
The problem is that you can’t access a portion of your memories from before the injury. ”
None of it made sense.
Traumatic brain injury.
Five days ago.
Memory gap.
My thoughts bounced from one phrase to another until they blurred together.
I forced myself to focus on one thing.
“What do you mean by memory gap?” I asked, watching his face carefully.
Dr. Reed’s expression softened. “The memories you’ve described appear to come from approximately two years and nine months ago.”
My mind went completely blank.
Dr. Reed watched me quietly before continuing.
“The medical term for difficulty recalling events that occurred before a brain injury is retrograde amnesia. It can affect memories from different periods, and the pattern isn’t always predictable.
Some people gradually regain portions of those memories. Others continue to have gaps.”
“Does that mean I’ll remember them?”
“It means we can’t know yet.”
I glanced around the room.
Dr. Reed leaned forward slightly. “Your brain has been through a significant injury, so our priority right now is monitoring your neurological status and making sure you’re recovering safely.
We’ll continue assessing your memory and cognition while you recover.
As for whether those memories return, some may come back gradually, some may return in fragments, and some may remain inaccessible.
There isn’t a reliable way to predict which memories will return or when. ”
My thoughts were jumbling together so quickly that I couldn’t hold on to a single one. The headache behind my eyes intensified, and I blinked several times before forcing myself to focus on the man standing beside the bed.
There was something about the way he was looking at me that made my skin prickle.
“Who is this?” I asked Dr. Reed, never once looking away from the stranger.
Dr. Reed followed my gaze. “That’s Cassian Sterling. He’s been here since you were admitted.” He paused, choosing his next words with care. “He’s listed as your emergency contact…”
My brow furrowed.
“…and your husband.”
For two whole seconds, the entire world seemed to stop.
Then every tense muscle in my body relaxed at once.
A huge breath left me, carrying all the fear with it. “Oh, thank God.”
I lifted a hand to my head and rubbed gently at my temple, trying to coax the headache into submission. A nervous laugh slipped out. “For a second, I thought you actually meant all that.”
Dr. Reed’s brows drew together.
I laughed again, suddenly unable to stop. “Wow.” I looked between the two of them, trying to catch my breath. “Okay. I’ll admit it. That’s actually hilarious.”
Neither man laughed.
That only made it funnier.
“Scary,” I added, nodding seriously, “definitely terrifying. But also incredibly funny.”
The word husband echoed through my mind again.
The concept was so absurd that another laugh burst out of me. I covered my mouth, but that only made me laugh harder.
The two men froze. Exchanging a look like they weren’t sure if they should call for a nurse or sedate me.
That made me laugh even harder, until my eyes watered and my vision blurred.
“This is…” I tried to get the words out, but another burst of laughter broke through before I could finish. “I’m sorry, this is just—”
A vicious stab tore through my ribs.
The laughter vanished.
I sucked in a breath and clutched my side, my whole body recoiling from the sudden pain. My face twisted, and a strained groan slipped out as the ache radiated through my ribs and up toward my back.
“Fuck.”
The other man—the supposed husband—stepped closer, his expression darkening. “Would you stop laughing like a maniac?”
“Dr.” Reed immediately spoke up. “Easy. You have injuries, so laughing that hard is going to hurt. Try to take slow breaths and relax.”
“I was relaxing,” I protested, still fighting another laugh. “Then you told me I have a husband.” I tilted my head. “So how much did she pay you?”
He blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“Felicity,” I said, watching “Dr.” Reed’s face closely, “how much did she pay you to pretend to be a doctor and pull this whole thing? Because that lab coat looks suspiciously cheap. I’m guessing she had to work with a limited budget.”
“I’m not pretending—this looks cheap?” He glanced down at his coat, offended.
I ignored the wounded expression and turned my attention to the silent man beside the bed.
“And you…” I murmured, finally giving him a proper inspection. My gaze traveled over his finely tailored suit, the severe lines of his face, and the dark eyes that hadn’t left me since I woke up. “She really went all out with this, didn’t she?”
He offered no reaction whatsoever.
“I’ll give her credit for the casting, though.” A half-smile tugged at my lips. “You definitely look the part. Strong jaw, expensive suit, brooding expression. You’ve got the whole ‘my wife’s in the hospital and I’m tragically devastated’ thing down.”
The “doctor” snorted.
I glanced at him.
He immediately looked away, pretending he hadn’t made a sound.
I turned back to my supposed husband.
“Still, you’re not really my type.” I gave him a thoughtful once-over. “Silent men have never done much for me. I prefer someone who can actually hold a conversation.”
His jaw clenched, a tiny muscle twitching in his cheek, but he said nothing.
I smiled sweetly. “But I suppose I can’t expect Felicity to find the perfect fake husband. She probably had to work with whoever was available.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Dr.” Reed smoothed down the front of his lab coat. “I understand why you’re confused, Miss Quinn, but I assure you, we aren’t lying to you.”
I stared at him. “Really? You expect me to believe that almost three years of my life have vanished, and this random-ass man—” I jabbed a finger in Cassian’s direction, “—is apparently my husband?”
A helpless laugh burst out of me before I could stop it.
There it was again.
That word.
Husband.
Every time it crossed my mind, I found myself wanting to laugh.
Reed watched me with the solemn patience of someone speaking to a difficult child. “Yes, Miss Quinn. That’s what I’m telling you.”
“I don’t believe you.”
His brows lifted slightly, but his tone remained calm. “I understand that this is difficult to process, but I’m not lying. I have absolutely no reason to fabricate any of this, especially while you’re recovering from a traumatic brain injury.”
“I just gave you a reason,” I reminded him cheerfully. “Felicity paid you.”
He turned toward Cassian. “Where is this Felicity?”