Chapter 4The Amnesiac Heir’s Fiancée

I slept poorly, my dreams filled with ghosts from the past—scenes I desperately wanted to forget but were seared into my memory.

I woke to Damian’s hand on my forehead, wiping away a cold sweat.

"Bad dream?" he asked, his voice husky with sleep.

Seeing me clutch my stomach, he pulled me into his arms. He glanced down and his eyes softened. "Colette," he said gently, "you've started your period."

It was a few days early, but it was never regular. This time, though, the cramping was worse than usual. A small, dark stain had blossomed on his pristine white sheets.

My eyes fluttered closed. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Don't be ridiculous."

He didn't seem to mind at all. He got up, found a box of pads in the bathroom cabinet, and then carried me into the en-suite.

"Does it hurt much?" he asked, his touch incredibly gentle as he helped me clean up.

"It's okay."

"I'll have the housekeeper make you some ginger tea."

As my fiancé, Damian had never lacked attentiveness. But behind this flawless facade was a man who was always in control, always rational. In front of me, he was calm, composed, unshakable.

This was the same man who, two years ago, had lost control so completely over Seraphina that he'd ended up in a near-fatal car crash.

The thought made a question slip from my lips. "Damian, have you ever considered that if you get your memory back, you might discover you were in love with someone else?"

"So in love you would have done anything for her."

"What would you do?"

His hands stilled for a moment. "Colette, what are you worried about?"

He lifted me onto the marble vanity, his hands bracketing me on either side.

"I'm just curious."

"If there really was someone like that," he said, his gaze serious, "I suppose the first thing I'd do is find out why I forgot her."

"And then?"

"And then," he paused, thinking, "I'd do what I believe is right."

It was a vague answer. But it was also terrifyingly honest.