Chapter 2

Christian went to the office in the afternoon, and I was alone, sunbathing in the yard.

Paul, the housekeeper, brought me fruit, looking at me as if he wanted to say something.

"Mrs. Price, do you really not remember anything?"

I shook my head blankly. "Christian says I'm sick."

Paul's lips parted, and he ultimately sighed.

"Then listen to Mr. Christian. He's looking out for you."

As he turned to walk away, I heard him murmur.

"Poor thing, she can't even hold onto what her parents left her..."

I was about to ask more, when the sound of a car engine reached the yard gate.

Cowell arrived with her medical bag, an apologetic look on her face.

"So sorry, Price, I forgot to give you your shot this morning. Just remembered and came right over."

With that, she took out a syringe.

"This is a new nerve-boosting medication. Christian agreed to start you on it today."

I instinctively recoiled. But she grabbed my hand, her grip surprisingly strong.

"Price, be good. It's for your own good."

I struggled a bit, and she immediately frowned. "Don't move around, or it'll hurt."

The needle pierced my skin, and before long, I fell into a heavy sleep.

I had a terrible dream.

In the dream, I stood at the edge of a cliff. Christian and Cowell embraced.

"Price, jump! Jumping will set you free!"

I didn't want to, I wanted to run away.

But Christian blocked me, forcing me step by step to the very edge.

"Price, once you're dead, I'll get all the shares!"

With that, he suddenly shoved me off.

"Ah!" I jolted awake, but no one was around.

Through the greenhouse glass, I saw two people talking.

I shook my groggy head and suddenly spoke.

"Christian, are we really married?"

Their conversation stopped abruptly. Christian turned his head, his eyes in that instant becoming terrifying.

He walked towards me, step by step. "Why are you asking that?"

His gaze made me tremble with fear.

"I just found it strange. Why do we only have one wedding photo?"

"Why is there no trace of my past anywhere in this house?"

He gripped my hand, so hard my bones ached.

"Because you're sick, Price."

"When you have an episode, you destroy things – you tear up photos, smash furniture."

"To protect you, and to protect our memories, I've put everything away. Don't you trust me?"

He looked at me, his eyes flashing with pain. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have doubted you."

Christian's expression softened, and he pulled me into his arms.

"It's okay. I know you're sick. I'll stay with you until you're cured."

I leaned on his shoulder, my gaze drifting over it to Cowell, who still stood nearby.

Perhaps due to the medication, I fell asleep exceptionally early that night.

At 2 AM, I woke up, thirsty.

I got out of bed, fumbled my way to the kitchen, and as I poured water, I noticed the light in the greenhouse was still on.

On a strange impulse, I walked over.

Through the glass, I saw Cowell sitting in a wicker chair, wearing a bathrobe.

Christian stood behind her, leaning over to massage her shoulders.

"Was today's dosage too strong? She actually started to suspect things today."

His voice carried to me. Cowell tilted her head back, resting the back of her head against his stomach.

"Suspicion is normal. That drug damages the memory region. Over time, people become paranoid and even develop persecution delusions."

She reached out and clasped Christian's wrist. "Christian, are you getting soft?"

"No." He smiled, an expression of indifference I'd never seen before.

"This is what she owes me. If she hadn't forced me to marry her back then, I'd already be a corporate high-flyer!"

Cowell laughed.

"Just three more months, and her cognitive function will be permanently damaged."

"Then she'll truly be sick, and no one will ever find out."

Christian laughed heartily.

"Exactly. By then, I'll have her parents' fortune, and we can finally truly be together!"