The VIP hospital suite smelled of antiseptic and lilies. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting striped shadows across the bed.

Eve groaned. The sound was dry and cracked.

Silas jumped up from the armchair where he had been dozing. "Eve? You're awake!"

Eve blinked. Her head felt like it had been split open with an axe. She reached up, her fingers brushing against thick bandages wrapped around her forehead.

"Silas?" Her voice was weak. "Where...?"

"Hospital," Silas said, grabbing her hand. "You were in a car accident. You scared the hell out of us." He glanced at his phone, where a dozen frantic messages from their PR team were waiting. The board meeting had been postponed, citing a 'family emergency,' but the market was already spooked.

Eve frowned, trying to access her memory. It was a blank slate. Just white noise. "Accident?"

"Yeah. You and... well, look." Silas picked up his tablet. He hesitated, then decided she needed to know. "You went viral last night."

He played the video.

Eve watched the screen. She saw herself, disheveled and crying, clinging to a man in a dark suit. She heard her own voice screaming, I love you so much! Don't leave me!

She watched the man pick her up. She watched him shield her face from the cameras.

Something clicked in her brain. The synapses, firing across the damaged pathways, sought a logical narrative to explain the emotion she was seeing. Her brain, protecting her from the trauma of Andre's betrayal, completely erased him. It paved over the hole with the only available data: the man in the video.

A smile, soft and dreamy, spread across Eve's face.

"He saved me," she whispered.

Silas winced. "Uh, sort of. He was actually trying to get you out of there because you were making a scene."

"No," Eve shook her head. "Look at how he holds me. He loves me."

Silas froze. "Eve. That's Charls Wiley. You hate him. He's your nemesis."

Eve looked at her brother like he was speaking a foreign language. "Nemesis? Don't be silly, Silas. That's Charls. My fiancé."

Silas dropped the tablet. It clattered onto the floor. "What the f...?"

Eve struggled to sit up, wincing at the pain. "We've been keeping it a secret. You know, because of the merger. Because of Mother. But... I guess the secret is out now."

Her brain was working fast, confabulating, building a bridge over the abyss of her memory loss. It made perfect sense. The intense feelings, the dream, the man in the video. It was love. It had to be.

"Nurse!" Silas yelled, hitting the call button. "Doctor!"

"Is he here?" Eve asked, her eyes darting to the door. "I want to see him. I need to tell him I'm sorry for the fight."

"There was no fight!" Silas argued, panicking. "There is no relationship! Eve, you are hallucinating!"

"Shh," Eve put a finger to her lips. "You just don't know about it. It was very private."

The door opened. But it wasn't the nurse.

It was Charls.

He had his arm in a black sling. He had come to check on the legal situation, to make sure the Franks weren't planning to sue him for the crash.

He stopped in the doorway, seeing Eve awake.

"You're up," he said, his voice cool and detached.

Eve's face lit up like a Christmas tree. The sheer wattage of her smile took Charls aback. He had never seen her look at him like that. Usually, she looked at him like she wanted to stab him with a pen.

"Charls," she breathed. She held out her hands. "Darling, you're hurt."

Charls looked behind him, assuming she was talking to someone else. There was no one there.

"Excuse me?" Charls asked.

"Your arm," Eve said, her eyes filling with tears. "Did you get hurt protecting me? Oh, I'm so sorry. I love you so much."

Charls stood there, stunned into silence. He looked at Silas.

Silas mouthed, She thinks you're engaged.

Charls felt the floor drop out from under him. This was a nightmare. This was worse than the crash.

"Eve," Charls started, stepping forward to correct her. "I think you hit your head harder than-"

"Don't be mad," Eve pleaded, her lower lip trembling. "I know I messed up. But I remember how you held me. Please, come here."

She looked so fragile. The bandages, the bruises, the IV drip. And that look... it was pure, unfiltered affection.

Charls closed his mouth. He didn't know why, but he couldn't bring himself to shatter her reality right there. Not when she looked like she might break into a million pieces.

"Eve, listen to me," Silas tried again, desperate. "Do you remember Andre? Andre Wilcox?"

Eve blinked, her expression blank. "Andre? The guy who delivers the paintings to the gallery? The one with the greasy hair?"

Silas gasped. "Greasy hair? You used to say he had the soul of a poet! You were in love with him yesterday!"

"Ew," Eve wrinkled her nose. "Silas, stop joking. He's not my type. He looks... cheap."

She looked past Silas, locking eyes with Charls again. "My type is standing right there."

Huldah walked in at that moment, followed by Franklin, Eve's father. They stopped, sensing the strange energy in the room.

"What is going on?" Huldah demanded.

"Mother," Eve said happily. "Charls is here. I was just telling Silas that we don't need to hide it anymore. The crash... it made me realize life is too short."

Huldah looked from Eve to Charls. Her eyes narrowed. She saw the confusion on Charls's face, the panic on Silas's, and the absolute conviction on Eve's.

She was a shark. She smelled blood in the water. And opportunity.

"Is that so?" Huldah said slowly.

"Mrs. Franks," Charls stepped forward, panic rising in his chest. "I need to speak with you outside. Now."

"Charls?" Eve asked, her voice faltering. "Why are you leaving?"

Charls looked at her. He felt a strange tightening in his chest. "I... I have to ask your mother for her blessing. Officially."

Eve gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "Oh! Go! Go now!"

Charls grabbed Huldah's arm with his good hand and practically dragged her into the hallway. Franklin followed, looking confused.

"She has amnesia," Charls hissed the moment the door closed. "She thinks we're engaged. You have to tell her the truth."

"Why?" Huldah asked calmly, smoothing her jacket.

"Because it's insane! We are competitors! I despise her!"

"Do you?" Huldah raised an eyebrow. "You saved her life last night. You've been pacing this hallway for six hours."

"That's basic human decency," Charls argued, though his ears turned red. "Look, tell her the truth. Or I will."

"If you tell her the truth now," Huldah said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "the shock could cause a setback. The doctor said no stress. And besides... think about the optics. I've already leaked the engagement rumors to the Journal. Wiley stock is up 4% this morning because people think a merger is coming. If you announce it was just a drunken mistake and dump her while she's in a hospital bed with brain damage... you will be the most hated man in America. The villain who broke the amnesiac heiress's heart."

Charls opened his mouth, then closed it. She was right. The PR would be a bloodbath.

"And," Huldah added, stepping closer, "if you play along... just until she recovers... Franks Enterprises might be willing to reconsider our position on the Midtown zoning dispute."

Charls went still. That was a fifty-million-dollar concession.

"You want me to lie to your daughter for profit?" Charls asked, disgusted.

"I want you to help her heal," Huldah corrected. "And if it helps us both... why not? Plus, it keeps her away from that artist loser."

Charls looked through the glass window of the door. Eve was sitting up, telling her father something with a bright, animated smile. She looked happy. Happier than he had ever seen her.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Fine," Charls growled. "But only until she gets her memory back. Then I'm out."

"Deal." Huldah smiled.

They walked back in. Eve looked up expectantly.

"Well?" she asked.

Charls forced a smile. It felt tight and unnatural on his face. He walked to the bedside.

"She said yes," Charls lied.

Eve squealed. She reached out and grabbed his hand-the one connected to his broken arm.

"Careful," Charls hissed in pain.

"Sorry, sorry!" Eve kissed his knuckles. "I'm just so happy, Hubby."

Charls choked on his own saliva. "Don't... don't call me that."

"Why not?" Eve teased.

"It's... unprofessional," Charls managed.

"We're getting married, silly. We don't have to be professional." She pulled his hand against her cheek.

Charls stood there, trapped by his own lie, feeling the warmth of her skin against his hand. He should pull away. He should hate this.

But as he looked down at her, he realized with a jolt that for the first time in years, he wasn't thinking about business. He was thinking about how soft her skin was.

Later that evening, the room was quiet. Huldah had ushered the family out, leaving Charls "alone time" with his "fiancée."

Charls sat in the uncomfortable hospital chair, scrolling through emails on his phone with one hand.

"You're working," Eve stated. It wasn't an accusation, just an observation.

"Someone has to pay for this private suite," Charls muttered without looking up.

"You're so responsible," Eve sighed dreamily.

Charls paused. He looked at her. "Eve, stop. You don't have to do... this."

"Do what?"

"Act like I'm a hero. I'm Charls Wiley. I tried to hostile takeover your company three months ago."

Eve waved a hand dismissively. "Foreplay."

Charls dropped his phone. "Excuse me?"

"That was just our way of flirting," Eve explained confidently. "We're both alpha personalities. We express passion through conflict. My therapist would say it's unhealthy, but look at us now."

She gestured between them.

Charls stared at her. Her logic was terrifyingly sound, in a twisted way. She had rewritten their entire history to fit her narrative.

"Right," Charls said dryly. "Flirting."

"Charls," Eve's voice turned serious. "Come sit on the bed. Please? You're so far away."

"I'm fine here."

"Please? My head hurts."

The guilt card. She was playing dirty.

Charls groaned and stood up. He walked over and perched awkwardly on the edge of the mattress, leaving a foot of space between them.

"Closer," Eve commanded.

He scooted an inch closer.

Eve reached out and rested her head on his good shoulder. She let out a long, contented sigh.

Charls stiffened. His muscles were tense, ready to bolt. But she smelled like vanilla and antiseptic. Her hair tickled his neck. Her weight against him felt... grounding.

"I was so scared," Eve whispered. "When I woke up and didn't know where I was... I was terrified. Until I saw you."

Charls felt a pang of guilt in his chest. He was lying to her. He was using her.

"Eve..." he started, his voice softer.

"I know I'm difficult," she continued. "I know I work too much. But I promise, I'm going to be a better wife. I'm going to make you happy."

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face.

Charls looked into those brown eyes. He saw honesty there. Vulnerability. Things Eve Franks never showed the world.

He realized then that he didn't know her at all. He knew the CEO. He didn't know the woman.

"You're not difficult," Charls found himself saying. "You're... impressive."

Eve smiled. "Kiss me."

Charls panicked. "What?"

"Kiss me. Doctor's orders. To help my memory."

"The doctor definitely did not say that."

"Please?" She pouted.

Charls looked at her lips. They were pale, slightly chapped.

He leaned in slowly. He told himself it was just to keep the cover. Just a peck.

He brushed his lips against hers. It was light, tentative.

Eve hummed and pressed into him, deepening the kiss.

A shockwave went through Charls. It wasn't cold. It wasn't calculated. It was electric. Her lips were soft, yielding.

He pulled back abruptly, breathless. His heart was pounding.

Eve kept her eyes closed, a smile playing on her lips. "See? I told you we had chemistry."

Charls stared at her, terrified. Because she was right.