ter 20
When Clarisse came to, pain split through her skull. A groan slipped from her lips as she struggled to open her heavy eyelids.
“Clarisse! You’re awake?” Theodore leaned in instantly beside the bed, his eyes bloodshot with worry.
It was only then that Clarisse realized someone had been holding her hand the whole time. She instinctively tried to pull away, but the grip tightened.
She blinked at the handsome yet unfamiliar face in front of her. Something about it made her skin crawl.
“Who… are you? Where am I? My head… It hurts…” she said weakly.
“Theodore. I’m Theodore Brooke,” he answered immediately with a gentle voice. “I’m your fiance. This is our home. You had a terrible fever and were unconscious for days. You almost scared me to death.”
He reached out to feel her forehead, his touch gentle. “How are you feeling now? Does it still hurt? The doctor’s on his way.”
Fiance?
Clarisse stared at him, dazed. Her mind was in a jumbled mess. Scattered fragments of memories
started to flicker in her head.
The silhouette of a man holding roses, waiting backstage…
A white suit stained with blood, hands clenched tight…
A clumsy, serious expression at the piano, the face overlapping with Theodore’s…
The tension in her shoulders eased slightly. Maybe he really was her fiance.
“I remember… something. Just bits and pieces…” she murmured, brows drawn tight. Her head still feels
heavy.
“That’s okay!” he said, a little too eagerly. “The doctor said it’s temporary memory loss from the fever. It’ll
recover little by little. Don’t worry. I’m here for you!”
Carefully, he helped her sit up. Then, he brought over a glass of warm water and held it to her lips himself.
In the days that followed, Theodore barely left her side.
He brought in the best doctors and oversaw her meals down to the last detail. He ordered rare tonics and
jewelry from across the globe. Their bedroom was filled with fresh imported roses, just like back then.
Slowly, Clarisse began piecing together memories of their past.
Theodore had fallen in love with her at first sight and pursued her obsessively. He waited backstage with
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roses after her performances. He had thrown himself in front of a knife for her and still comforted her through the blood.
But every time he tried to get close, her body would flinch before she could stop it.
The look in his eyes whenever that happened made her feel guilty, and Theodore noticed that. He said
softly, “It’s okay, Clarisse. You got sick because I didn’t take good enough care of you. We’ll take things
slow.”
And so, a month passed, but Clarisse still could not bring herself to return Theodore’s affection.
She wanted to end their relationship. But she remembered how he shielded her from that knife. That debt
was too heavy to ignore.
Then, one day, Theodore told her their wedding date was set for two weeks later. He brought home a
wedding dress flown in from Pariza and asked her to try it on.
That night, the resistance in her heart boiled over.
She did not know how to voice it out. So, when he went to work the next morning, she packed her things
quietly and moved out, leaving only a letter behind.
Just as she barely made it out of the villa, he came speeding back from his office.
He stood there, eyes red and voice trembling. “Clarisse, did I do something wrong? Why are you leaving?”
Seeing his hurt expression, Clarisse hesitated. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she said apologetically,”
I’m sorry, Theo. I can’t marry you. Not now. I need some time alone to think about us.”
His mouth opened like he wanted to plead, but before he could speak, the rumble of an engine shattered
the silence.
Clarisse turned instinctively.
A red car was barreling toward her. Behind the wheel sat a woman, her face twisted by madness and
espair. Her eyes were burned with a hatred that could swallow the world.
Chapter 21
