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.

NORA

“What are those?” I asked, confusion evident in my voice as I looked at Nadia, one of the long-time house helpers of the Hills family. Esmeralda and I were seated in the living room when a woman suddenly arrived, introducing herself as Amy, Asher’s secretary.

“Mrs. Bennett—” Amy said.

I lifted my gaze sharply, fixing her with a cold stare that immediately stopped her mid-sentence. The shift in my expression was enough to make her stiffen where she stood.

She cleared her throat, visibly nervous, before continuing. “Sir Asher instructed me to come here and assist you in choosing from these clothes. The stylist and a representative from the jewelry store will also be arriving later, so you can select the accessories you’ll be wearing tonight for Mr. Taylor’s birthday party.”

“I don’t need any of those. You may leave now,” I replied coolly, without even sparing the dresses a second glance.

Both Nadia and Amy froze at my words.

“B-But… Mrs. Bennett,” Amy said hesitantly, her voice trembling. “Sir Asher specifically told me to take care of everything for you. If I fail to do this, I might lose my job—”

“Why should I care?” I cut her off, one eyebrow arching sharply. “Do I look like someone who concerns herself with the fate of a person I have nothing to do with?” I added bluntly, my tone firm and unyielding.

Amy’s face paled instantly. She lowered her head slightly, her hands clenching at her sides as she struggled to keep her composure.

“Don’t call me that,” I continued coldly. “I am divorcing your employer. Address me properly—as Ms. Hills.”

“I-I’m sorry… Ms. H-Hills,” she quickly corrected herself, nodding repeatedly.

“Nora, dear,” Esmeralda interjected gently, clearly trying to ease the tension. “She’s only doing her job.”

“I know that, Mom,” I replied, finally turning my gaze away from Amy. “But if every employee Asher sends my way thinks they can use guilt or pity to manipulate me, does that mean I should spend the rest of my life being obedient and accommodating at my own expense?”

“That’s not what I meant…” Esmeralda said softly.

I took a deep breath before looking back at Amy, meeting her eyes directly. “I have nothing personal against you. But I refuse to be considerate toward others if it comes at the cost of my own peace. Tell your employer this: I will not attend the party with him. And more importantly, unless it concerns our divorce, I do not want to be contacted again.”

Amy paused for a moment, then slowly nodded. I could see understanding, perhaps even respect, in her eyes.

“I will relay everything to Mr. Bennett, Ms. Hills,” she said quietly.

“Thank you. You may go now.”

I motioned for Nadia to hand the clothes back to Amy. Without another word, Amy turned around and left.

Esmeralda and I were left alone in the living room. She stared at me intently, a mix of curiosity, concern, and quiet contemplation written all over her face. I merely shrugged and chose not to explain myself.

In nearly a month of living under the same roof, I had come to realize just how kind Rod and Esmeralda truly were. That was precisely why I didn’t want to hurt them. Why I tried to draw the line carefully, even when it involved Asher.

Four hours before the party, Esmeralda came to my room. I had already agreed to attend Mr. Taylor’s birthday celebration, not for Asher’s sake, but for my own.

Several gowns were neatly arranged on the rack. Esmeralda had personally ordered them, thoughtfully selecting each piece.

I had never been fond of gowns. But now, as Emily Hills, adaptation was inevitable. I reached for a black gown.

“Are you sure about that one, dear?” Esmeralda asked, studying both me and the dress in my hands.

“Yes,” I answered without hesitation.

“You don’t like the light blue or the soft pink anymore?”

I shook my head lightly. “I want something different this time. Sometimes, change is necessary… sometimes, you have to explore.”

And in that quiet moment, I almost smiled to myself.

Because it wasn’t just the color of the dress that was changing.

It was me.

“It’s a good thing you’ve finally realized that now,” Esmeralda said gently. “I’ve been telling you this for a long time. I wanted you to try something different, but you always chose to prioritize Asher’s happiness over your own.”

“Not anymore, Mom,” I replied firmly. “From now on, everything I do will be for myself.”

Esmeralda studied me closely, her gaze lingering as if she were trying to confirm whether what she was hearing was real. There was disbelief in her eyes, perhaps even surprise. Maybe Emily and I truly were complete opposites after all.

Even at the company, I had started noticing the strange looks the employees gave me. There was a certain hesitation, a quiet confusion, every time I spoke. Even the executives seemed taken aback, as though they were seeing a version of me they had never encountered before.

After that, Esmeralda left me alone in my room, and I began preparing myself. When it came to makeup, I wasn’t entirely clueless. I knew how to apply it—just enough.

A light application was more than sufficient. I wasn’t attending the party to be the most beautiful woman in the room. I was going there to meet people, to connect with other businessmen and influential figures. I needed and wanted to expand my network.

Once I was finished and satisfied with my appearance, I stepped out of my room. In the living area, I found Esmeralda and Rod together, waiting for me.

“Wow! You’re so beautiful, dear!” Esmeralda exclaimed, her eyes practically sparkling as she looked at me. Damn, why does she always have that endearment for me?

“She’s right,” Rod added. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen you wear a gown in that color.”

“You’d better get used to it,” I said calmly, a faint smile playing on my lips. “This is who I am now. The old me is dead, so please welcome the new Emily Hills.”

The couple fell silent for a moment, clearly taken aback. But it didn’t take long before I saw approval reflected in their expressions.

“If that’s the case,” Rod said warmly, “your mother and I are looking forward to seeing more of this side of you.”

“Be ready, Dad,” I replied confidently. “You’re about to witness how your dear daughter swallows everyone who ever stepped on me and our family.”

I meant every word. Anyone who had once belittled the old Emily would pay dearly.

The only regret was not knowing who those people were.

I wanted to find out. I wanted to investigate everything that had happened. But I didn’t want to appear too eager, too desperate for answers. Afraid that someone might notice my unusual interest and grow suspicious.

I couldn’t understand why I didn’t possess even a single memory of Emily’s past.

Was that really how it worked?

Because I was now occupying her body, did that mean I had no access to her memories at all?

If so, would consulting a doctor even help?

“Emily, dear.”

I looked up to find Esmeralda staring at me with concern. “What are you thinking about?”

I smiled before answering. “Nothing. I was just wondering what I might encounter at the party.”

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” Rod assured me. “Matt will be there. If there’s anything you want to ask, especially about the people you’ll meet, he’ll be the one who can give you answers.”

“In that case, I should get going,” I said with a smile. “I don’t want to be late. I want to see every single person who arrives at the party.”

“All right. Take care,” Esmeralda said as she stepped closer, kissing my cheek before pulling me into a warm embrace. I hugged her back—then Rod as well. After all, as Emily Hills, they were my parents now.

I turned away and walked out of the house toward the waiting car. Biboy, my driver, was already there.

Once he closed the door behind me, he circled around to the driver’s seat and started the engine.

As the car moved, my thoughts drifted once more.

I wanted to move to a different place, somewhere I could do the things I wanted without restriction, and begin executing my plans.

Somewhere I could finally introduce myself to Dante…

as the new Nora Dumont.