NORA

Asher didn't get the chance to say another word when Rod and Esmeralda suddenly arrived.

"What are you doing here?" Rod demanded the moment he saw him.

"Dad-" Asher began as he turned toward him.

But Rod's eyes turned razor-sharp.

"Don't call me that," the old man said coldly. "You are not my son."

I noticed the slight twitch at the corner of Asher's lips, the way his hand clenched as if he were holding himself back from responding.

"Why are you still here?" Esmeralda asked next. Her voice was calm, almost gentle, but the hostility beneath it was unmistakable. "Aren't you already divorced from our daughter?"

"I canceled the divorce application," Asher replied.

"What?" Rod and Esmeralda exclaimed at the same time.

Shock. Anger. Disgust.

All of it was written clearly on their faces.

"Emily is still my wife," Asher continued. "And I'm here to take her home."

"I'm not going back to your house," I cut in firmly. "We're done. I'm done with you."

"Asher," Esmeralda said, her voice now edged with restrained fury, "it would be best if you leave for now. If you have even the slightest awareness of the trouble you've caused, you'd know better than to stay. Rod and I will never allow you to take our daughter after what you did to her."

Asher was about to argue when the door suddenly opened.

Corrine walked in.

I was certain it was her-even if this was only the second time I'd seen her and no one had clearly introduced her to me before.

"Asher... you're here," she said softly, her voice laced with hesitation and false concern.

I had to give her credit.

She was very convincing.

"What are you doing here, Corrine?" Asher asked, clearly running out of patience. He glanced at me briefly, as if trying and failing to explain something without words.

"I heard what happened to Emily," Corrine replied. "So I came right away."

That made Asher turn fully toward her.

"I'm impressed by your radar," I said coolly. "How did you even know I was here?"

For a split second, Corrine didn't know where to look.

All eyes were on her-waiting.

And when it became obvious she couldn't come up with an excuse, she suddenly clutched her head.

"Ah... my head hurts," she groaned, squeezing her temples and shutting her eyes tightly.

I laughed.

So did Mr. and Mrs. Hills.

Devon, meanwhile, merely smirked-as if he already knew exactly what was happening.

"No answer, so you'll pretend you're sick instead?" I asked mockingly.

Rod and Esmeralda continued laughing while Devon silently shook his head, clearly entertained.

"Asher, you know I fell down the stairs too," Corrine insisted weakly. "This might be a side effect of-"

"Just stop," Asher snapped. His face darkened as he grabbed her arm. "Let's go. Since we're already in a hospital, I'll have you checked."

He guided Corrine toward the door. It was obvious he didn't want to leave, but he must have realized that staying any longer would lead nowhere.

Only when they disappeared from my sight did I finally breathe out in relief.

"And who might you be?" Rod asked, turning his attention to Devon.

"I apologize for the late introduction," Devon replied, scratching the back of his head with a faintly sheepish smile. "I'm Devon. I'm the one who brought Emily here."

Rod and Esmeralda both looked at me, silently asking for confirmation.

Since I genuinely had no idea what had happened before I blacked out-and Devon was clearly the one present, I simply nodded.

"Thank you very much," Rod said politely, though his caution was evident. "But we'll take care of our daughter now. We may already be inconveniencing you."

"I'm not inconvenienced by Emily," Devon replied. "But I'll be going anyway. It seems you still have things to discuss."

Before leaving, he turned to me. A faint smile curved his lips as he spoke.

"Nice meeting you. Next time, don't eat food you're not supposed to."

I nodded at him, keeping my expression neutral.

I didn't know him.

But I had a strong feeling he wasn't ordinary.

The way he spoke to Asher earlier, his calm provocation, his confidence-those weren't the actions of a random man who just happened to save me.

And I never ignored instincts like that.

Devon had already left, leaving me alone with Rod and Esmeralda. The curiosity on their faces was unmistakable-both of them were clearly dying to ask about the man-but they chose silence instead, something I was deeply grateful for.

"Why would you eat something you're not allowed to?" Esmeralda asked as she gently stroked my arm. Her eyes were already brimming with tears, as if something truly terrible had happened to me. Well, something bad did happen-an allergy could have killed me. But here I was, still alive, still breathing, still standing.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know I was allergic to shrimp," I said softly. I didn't want her to worry. I couldn't bear the sight of the woman in front of me looking so distressed. Even if I wasn't truly Emily, I cherished the warmth of being treated like her daughter.

"This is your father's and my fault," Esmeralda said, her voice trembling. "We forgot to tell you, knowing fully well that you have amnesia. When you were younger, you absolutely loved shrimp. You could never get enough of it. That's why I understand why it was the first thing you reached for."

"Mom, you don't have to blame yourself-or Dad," I replied, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "What happened was on me. You were right, though. It felt like I was craving shrimp. But I want you to know that I'm actually happy, because now I know how delicious it really is."

Esmeralda could only smile and shake her head at that, clearly torn between relief and lingering worry. Rod, on the other hand, remained silent, having nothing more to add.

Not long after, I was discharged from the hospital. As usual, we went straight back to the Hills' residence.

But before we had even settled comfortably in the living room, one of the maids hurried over to us.

"Ma'am Emily, Sir Asher is outside."

Mr. and Mrs. Hills exchanged glances.

"Go upstairs to your room," Rod said firmly. "Your mother and I will handle talking to him."

"No need," I said calmly before turning to the maid. "We all know he won't stop anyway. Let him in."

The maid nodded and left. When she returned, Asher was already with her.

"Let's go home," he said without warning, making me let out a small, humorless chuckle. He didn't even bother greeting the Hills, despite clearly seeing them.

"I already told you-we're done," I replied. "Is that really so hard to understand?"

"And I already told you that you're coming home," he shot back. "We're still married, and-"

I didn't let him finish.

"Mr. Bennett, you know exactly what kind of marriage we have," I said evenly. "Like I said before, I don't remember anything about our past. But I do know how I feel now. I don't love you anymore. I'm letting you go, so feel free to openly claim your Corrine."

I made a conscious effort to keep my voice calm. As much as possible, I wanted our separation to end peacefully.

I had no idea what Emily truly felt deep inside-but I didn't care.

"Corrine and I are just friends," Asher insisted. "I never cheated on you. Yes, I took you for granted, but that's not enough reason for us to separate. If you don't want to come home, I'll give you time. I'll let you think this through. Just don't make me do something we'll both regret."

With that, he turned and left. He gave the Hills a brief nod on his way out, fully aware that they wouldn't acknowledge him.

I raised my hand to my temples and gently massaged them, the weight of everything finally settling in.

"Are you okay, my child?" Esmeralda asked, worry etched deeply into her face.

"You should go upstairs and rest," Rod added. "You need to recover so you can attend Mr. Taylor's seventieth birthday party. That will be your chance to build the connections you'll need now that you're the new CEO of Hills Pharma."

I nodded in agreement. I knew how important it was to surround myself with people who could be of help in the future, especially now.

For the moment, there was one person I was particularly eager to meet-a brilliant lawyer who could help me have my marriage to Asher legally annulled. I could only hope that someone like that would be among the guests invited to that party.

ASHER

"Sir, this is the complete medical record of Mrs. Bennett."

My assistant, Troy, carefully placed the thick folder on top of my desk. The sound it made as it hit the glass surface was heavy, solid, final-as if it were warning me that what lay inside was far more than mere paperwork. I picked it up immediately, opened it, and began scanning every page while Troy continued speaking in front of me, his tone straight, controlled, and professional as always.

"She sustained a mild concussion, Sir. As of now, it's confirmed that she's experiencing temporary memory loss. There's still no definite timeline for recovery, but based on the doctor's assessment, she won't remember anything that happened before her hospitalization."

I paused mid-sentence.

Something in my chest tightened.

"The last time she was hospitalized," Troy added, "was due to an allergic reaction. Apparently, everything she ordered that day consisted entirely of seafood."

I nodded slowly, pretending to absorb the information with ease. But in truth, the questions in my head were multiplying faster than the answers. I knew Emily-or at least, I thought I did. She knew she was allergic to seafood. She wouldn't be that careless. Not without reason. Not without thinking.

Something didn't add up.

"How did Emily even know about that place?" I asked suddenly, stopping my reading. "Has she been there before?"

Troy looked at me, clearly weighing his response before finally speaking.

"That restaurant, Sir, is known to be an exclusive establishment," he said. "It's frequented by the wealthy-people with influence, not just in business but also in politics, not to mention those in the underground. It's not a place anyone can simply walk into. Reservations are usually made weeks in advance."

A faint, humorless smile tugged at my lips-not out of amusement, but irritation.

"As for Mrs. Bennett," he continued, "I still don't have confirmed information on how many times she's been there... or if she's ever been there before at all."

I leaned back slightly, my mind racing. The place was famous, yes. I'd heard of it long ago. But even I, with my resources, connections, and money, had never casually set foot inside that restaurant.

So how did she manage to get in?

"And the man?" I asked, my voice turning cold. "The one who supposedly brought her to the hospital."

"I still haven't gathered solid information about him, Sir," Troy replied. "Aside from his name-Devon. But one thing is certain: he was at the restaurant at the time of the incident."

Devon.

I repeated the name over and over in my head, trying to attach a face to it, a history, a connection-anything. But there was nothing. Just emptiness. A blank space where information should have been.

I said nothing more.

The office fell into silence, broken only by the low hum of the air conditioner. I tried to piece everything together-the restaurant, the allergy, the memory loss, the man I didn't know. No matter how hard I tried, the picture refused to come into focus.

"What do you think?"

I lifted my gaze to Troy. There were moments when I asked for his opinion-when my thoughts became too tangled, when I was confronting things I didn't want to admit to myself. This was one of those moments.

He paused briefly before answering.

"I feel," he said carefully, "that Mrs. Bennett has changed."

My brow furrowed.

"I can't say exactly what it is," he went on, "but after following her movements... her behavior... it feels like I no longer recognize her. She's no longer the Emily we used to know."

Something sharp twisted inside me, but I chose to remain silent.

"As for Devon," he added, "there's really not much I can say since all we have is a name. Given that, he may be hiding something-or worse, planning something dangerous."

I nodded slowly, the weight in my chest growing heavier. I had the same gut feeling. For Emily. And for that man.

"Sir," Troy called again.

I looked at him, waiting.

"The changes in Mrs. Bennett," he said, choosing his words with extreme care, "may be caused by what happened... and by what didn't happen."

"What do you mean?" I asked, even though a part of me already knew the answer.

Troy took a deep breath.

"You've been neglecting Mrs. Bennett, Sir," Troy said bluntly. "And you're always siding with Miss Corrine-without a doubt. I'm sorry to say it, but it's possible that Mrs. Bennett no longer feels the same way about you as she once did."

Something inside me shattered.

I clenched my hands over the desk, feeling tension shoot through every finger. Troy bowed slightly, clearly aware he had hit a nerve. I tried to suppress the emotion bubbling inside me, but it was too late.

I couldn't accept that her feelings-Emily's feelings-could be lost or diminished so easily. Not like this. Not to me.

And yet, the hardest truth to admit... was that there was merit in what Troy had said.

For the first time, I realized that perhaps my greatest enemy in this whole situation wasn't Devon, or the people circling Emily-it was my own failures. My inability to notice, to act, to be present when it mattered most.

"Continue monitoring Emily," I ordered sharply, keeping my eyes glued to the folder in front of me. "I want to know everything she does. Every movement, every choice-no matter how small or insignificant it seems."

"Yes, Sir," Troy responded, posture straight and unwavering, clearly accustomed to carrying the weight of my commands.

"You may leave," I said, returning my full attention to the folder, forcing myself to absorb each line, though my mind kept spinning, twisting the words in front of me until they blurred.

He left quietly. The faint click of the door closing behind him amplified the silence in the office, making it almost suffocating. Only the low hum of the air conditioner and my controlled breathing filled the space-slow, deliberate, but tense to the point of aching.

I leaned back in my chair, still gripping the folder that contained Emily's medical records. Cold facts. Data that could never explain why the woman I had once been certain was mine seemed to be slipping further away, fragment by fragment.

Before I could sink fully into the spiral of my thoughts, the door opened-abruptly, without a knock, without warning.

Corrine.

My hand froze mid-page. I didn't even need to look to know who it was; her presence alone was enough to shift the atmosphere in the room. Too familiar. Too invasive.

"Hi, Ash," she greeted, a trace of a smile on her lips-an expression I had once ignored, but now hit differently. Uncomfortably. Wrongly.

I couldn't stop the irritation that rose within me. A raw, inexplicable kind of annoyance-not because of what she had done, but because she existed in that moment. Her timing felt wrong. Always wrong.

"Do you need something?" I asked coldly, refusing to meet her eyes.

"Just passing by," she said, moving closer to my desk. "I heard you were in your office, so I thought-"

"So you decided to barge in?" I cut her off, finally looking up at her.

She faltered for a moment, then quickly recovered. "I didn't think I'd be intruding."

I allowed a tight smile to form, devoid of any real humor.

"This is the worst possible timing," I said flatly. "If you have nothing important to say, I suggest you leave."

A flicker of something-annoyance, maybe surprise crossed her face, but she masked it quickly. She nodded slightly, yet before fully retreating, she spoke again.

"About Emily..." she began cautiously.

The moment she uttered my wife's name, a deeper surge of irritation washed over me.

"Stop," I said firmly. "This isn't a conversation you should involve yourself in."

She paused, eyes fixed on me, as though she had something more to say. In the end, though, she could only turn and walk out of the office.

When the door clicked shut behind her, I let out a long, deep sigh.

For the first time, I realized that no matter how tightly I tried to control everything, there were some things already slipping beyond my grasp.

And one of them... was Emily.

ASHER

It has been a week since Emily was discharged from the hospital after her allergic reaction, yet she still hasn’t come home. It feels deliberate—as if she’s intentionally keeping her distance, wanting me to experience just how painful it is to be ignored, to be shut out.

It’s as if she’s testing my patience.

Or maybe… she truly no longer feels anything for me, just as Troy had said.

In the three years we’ve been married, Emily never once mentioned—never even threw in my face—the enormous amount of help her family gave me and the Bennett Group. She was always quiet, always standing behind me, always ready to understand even when I couldn’t find the words to explain myself.

But after she woke up in that hospital room, she suddenly forced me to face a truth I had long been avoiding. The very reason I became hostile toward her. The truth I tried so hard to bury, yet one that had been lodged in my mind for far too long.

I wasn’t wrong.

She sees me as weak.

In her eyes, I am nothing more than a man who married for money.

I know it—even if no one says it to my face. People talk behind my back. They whisper about how the Hills family saved the Bennett Group. About how Emily’s love became my capital, my lifeline, the reason I remained standing when everything else was collapsing.

Yes, Emily loved me. And I loved her too—that was a truth I never denied. But it was also something I never allowed myself to say out loud. Not to anyone. Not to Emily.

What I couldn’t bear was the idea that our marriage existed because of money.

All I wanted back then was a loan. A chance to save the company. But not a single bank believed in me. Not a single investor was willing to take a risk on the Bennett name.

Until Mr. Hills spoke.

Marriage.

A transaction in exchange for money.

I didn’t want to accept it. My pride was the only thing I had left at that point. But I was desperate. Broken. Cornered. And beyond that… I did like Emily. I always had. Since junior high school, I had seen her as someone quiet yet strong, simple yet carrying a light that set her apart.

I chose the wrong reason for the right person.

I closed my eyes, memories flooding in—moments that should have been ours. Anniversaries. Birthdays. Simple dinners I chose to miss in favor of work. Not because I didn’t want to be with her, but because I couldn’t stand the feeling of being indebted.

I wanted to repay everything her family had done for me as quickly as possible. I wanted to erase the five years of debt that eventually led to our marriage three years ago—right after she graduated from college.

Back then, I believed that once I had paid Mr. Hills in full, I’d finally have the courage to look Emily in the eye. That I could finally stand beside her without shame. That she could be proud of me, as a husband who didn’t rely on her family, as a man who could truly provide.

But even a year after settling everything, the world still saw me the same way.

To them, without Emily, the Bennett Group wouldn’t even exist.

Even now, when we are considered one of the most respected companies, I haven’t escaped the whispers and ridicule. It’s as if that debt is permanently etched into my name—an invisible stain that will never fade.

They can’t say it to my face anymore, not with the influence I hold now—not just in the city, but across the country.

My thoughts were cut short by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” I said.

The door opened, and my mother stepped inside. In an instant, my chest felt heavier. Whenever she faced me, there was always only one theme—and I already knew who it would involve.

“What do you need?” I asked, forcing my tone to remain neutral.

“Mr. Taylor’s birthday is next week,” she said bluntly as she walked closer. “You need to attend. Many influential businessmen will be there.”

“I already know,” I replied immediately. “You don’t need to remind me.”

“Bring Corrine with you,” she added casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I heard she’s close to Mr. Taylor’s granddaughter.”

I pressed my fingers against my temple, massaging it slowly, trying to suppress the growing headache. “Why? You don’t like the idea?” she asked, irritation seeping into her voice.

“It’s inappropriate, Mom,” I said firmly. “I’m a married man. It’s wrong to be seen with another woman.”

She smirked, her expression dripping with mockery. “You’re only thinking about that now? How long have you been taking that bitch for granted?”

“Stop!”

My raised voice silenced her instantly. Shock flashed across her face.

“Is that how you talk about my wife?” I asked, my voice trembling but resolute.

“You raised your voice at me?” she shot back, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Yes,” I answered without hesitation. “Have you forgotten why the Bennett Group is still standing today?”

She fell silent for a moment before speaking again. “Probably because of their money. But you know you worked hard for everything. Haven’t you paid them back already? There’s no reason for you to keep treating that woman nicely.”

Her words hit me like a slap across the face.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

My own mother, the same woman who once nearly knelt before other businessmen, who witnessed firsthand how the Hills couple treated us with dignity and restraint, was now speaking of Emily as if she were nothing more than an inconvenience.

And in that moment, I finally realized something I had been blind to for far too long.

It wasn’t just me who had hurt Emily. I had allowed others to disrespect her as well—because of my own fear, my pride, and my refusal to stand my ground.

“This is the last time you will ever speak badly about my wife,” I said, never taking my eyes off her. "Whether it’s in front of her or behind her back, you will respect Emily."

I saw her eyes narrow, but she said nothing. She knew I wasn’t bluffing.

“If I hear even a single word that you’ve done or said something against my wife,” I continued, studying her reaction carefully, making sure my message sank in, “I will make sure you regret it.”

Silence followed.

“Fine,” she finally said. “If that’s what you want. But make sure you bring Corrine. She will be very useful to you if anything happens.”

With that, my mother turned her back on me and walked out of my office.

I could only shake my head as I watched her leave. It suddenly dawned on me that Emily must have endured far more than I ever allowed myself to believe. Back then, I hadn’t taken her seriously when she said my mother treated her poorly. I dismissed it, convinced myself it couldn’t be true.

Who would think such a thing?

My mother knew how much the Hills family had helped us. I assumed that alone was enough to warrant her treating my wife with respect.

I was wrong.

Mr. Taylor’s seventieth birthday.

I should bring Emily. I needed to start taking her with me to every gathering I had to attend. I didn’t want her to think, not even for a second, that I was neglecting our marriage or hiding her existence.

With that thought in mind, I picked up the phone and called Troy. Moments later, he was standing in front of me.

“Any news on Emily?” I asked.

“Last week, she started going on morning runs,” Troy reported.

I frowned but remained silent, signaling him to continue.

“Just yesterday, she signed up for a membership to a boxing gym.”

“A boxing gym?” I asked sharply, unable to hide my surprise.

“Yes, Sir.”

“She just got out of the hospital,” I said, my concern surfacing despite myself. “Is she really okay after falling down the stairs? Won’t intense physical activity—especially something like boxing- put her at risk?”

“I believe Mrs. Bennett knows her limits,” Troy replied calmly. “And one more thing, Sir—based on what I’ve gathered, she will most likely attend Mr. Taylor’s birthday. Mr. and Mrs. Hills have received an invitation.”

I nodded, my thoughts immediately drifting back to my mother’s words.

All the more reason not to bring Corrine. I refused to add fuel to Emily’s suspicions—especially not now.

“Anything else?” I asked.

“As for Devon,” Troy continued, “we still haven’t gathered any solid information about him. However, he hasn’t approached Mrs. Bennett again since the hospital incident.”

I let out a quiet breath of relief.

“Don’t let your guard down,” I said. “Continue investigating him. It’s possible he was simply there when Emily had her allergic reaction—but the words he said at the hospital… I can’t ignore them.”

“Understood, Sir.”

Troy left shortly after, leaving me alone with my thoughts once more.

'Do you think I care about that? As long as she’s with me, I don’t care.'

Devon’s words echoed in my mind.

I was certain now, he knew Emily. And worse, he had intentions toward my wife.

And that was something I intended to uncover—no matter what it took.