The first thing Alessia Vale heard was the steady, irritating beep of a machine.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

It was slow and consistent, almost peaceful, but something about it made her uneasy.

Her head felt heavy.

Pain pulsed behind her eyes, spreading slowly toward her temples. Her body felt strangely weak, as though she had been asleep for days. Even breathing seemed to require more effort than it should.

She tried to open her eyes.

Nothing.

Her eyelids felt too heavy.

She tried again.

This time, a thin line of pale light slipped through.

White.

Everything around her was white.

The ceiling.

The walls.

The sheets covering her body.

A faint smell of antiseptic filled her nose.

Hospital.

The realization came slowly.

I’m in a hospital.

Her heart began to beat faster.

Why?

She couldn’t remember being brought here.

She couldn’t remember getting sick.

She couldn’t remember an accident.

Nothing.

Alessia forced her eyes open completely.

For several seconds, she stared at the unfamiliar ceiling while panic slowly crawled into her chest.

She tried to move her hand.

A sharp ache traveled through her arm.

She stopped.

Her fingers were connected to an IV line.

Her breathing became shallow.

“What…”

Her voice came out barely above a whisper.

She swallowed, trying again.

“Where am I?”

No one answered.

Alessia turned her head slowly.

The room was large and luxurious, nothing like the ordinary hospital room she vaguely remembered from her childhood. There were expensive-looking curtains, a private bathroom, a small sitting area, and flowers arranged neatly on a table beside the window.

A private hospital room.

But why was she here?

And why couldn’t she remember?

She closed her eyes and tried to think.

Her name.

That was easy.

Alessia Vale.

She remembered her childhood home.

Her parents.

School.

University.

Pieces of her life floated through her mind like photographs scattered across a table.

But then…

Nothing.

There was a blank space.

Not a normal forgotten moment.

A wall.

Three years of her life seemed to have been cut away.

Alessia frowned.

“What happened to me?”

The door opened.

She immediately looked toward it.

A man walked into the room.

And for a moment, Alessia forgot about everything else.

He was tall.

Very tall.

He wore a perfectly tailored black suit, the dark fabric emphasizing his broad shoulders. His black hair was neatly styled, though a few strands had fallen carelessly across his forehead.

His face was sharp and striking.

Strong jaw.

Straight nose.

Dark, intense eyes.

There was something intimidating about him.

Something dangerous.

But he was also devastatingly handsome.

The kind of handsome that would have made people turn their heads when he entered a room.

Yet there was no warmth in his expression.

Not at first.

He simply stood there, staring at her.

Like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

His eyes moved over her face.

Her open eyes.

Her pale lips.

Her confused expression.

Something changed in his face.

Relief.

It was there for only a second before his expression became unreadable again.

He walked toward her.

Alessia instinctively moved backward against the pillows.

“Who are you?”

The man’s steps stopped.

His dark eyes remained fixed on hers.

Then, slowly, he said,

“You’re awake, wife.”

Alessia froze.

Wife?

Her heart skipped.

“I’m sorry?”

The man stared at her as if her confusion was expected.

Then he came closer.

“My name is Dante Moretti.”

The name meant nothing to her.

At least, it should have meant nothing.

Yet something about hearing it sent a strange chill through her body.

Dante Moretti.

She repeated the name silently.

Nothing.

No memory.

No recognition.

Just an uncomfortable feeling that she should know him.

Dante pulled a chair closer to her bed and sat down.

“You’ve been unconscious for six days.”

“Six days?”

He nodded.

Alessia stared at him.

“Why?”

“You were in an accident.”

“What kind of accident?”

His jaw tightened.

“A car accident.”

She looked down at her body.

There were small bruises on her arm, a bandage near her temple, and several faint marks she hadn’t noticed before.

She touched the bandage carefully.

“And you?”

Dante’s expression remained calm.

“I’m your husband.”

Alessia stared at him.

The room suddenly felt too quiet.

“My…”

She swallowed.

“Husband?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head immediately.

“No.”

Dante didn’t react.

“No?”

“I would remember my husband.”

Something flickered in his eyes.

Pain.

But it disappeared almost instantly.

“You’ve lost your memory.”

“My memory?”

“Your doctors believe the accident caused temporary amnesia.”

Alessia stared at him.

Three years.

Three entire years.

The thought made her stomach twist.

“How long have we been married?”

Dante paused.

“Almost two years.”

Alessia’s lips parted.

Two years.

She had been married to this stranger for almost two years.

Impossible.

She searched her mind desperately.

A wedding.

A ring.

A dress.

A church.

A courthouse.

Anything.

Nothing.

She looked down at her left hand.

A diamond ring rested on her finger.

She stared at it.

Her breathing became uneven.

“Why don’t I remember you?”

Dante leaned forward slightly.

“Because something happened to you.”

“What?”

“You were hurt.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Her voice trembled.

“Why don’t I remember falling in love with you?”

Dante went completely still.

For the first time since entering the room, the control in his expression cracked.

Just slightly.

“You loved me,” he said quietly.

Alessia looked into his eyes.

“Did I?”

The question seemed to hurt him more than she expected.

Dante looked away for a moment.

When he looked back, his expression was cold again.

“Yes.”

Alessia didn’t know why, but she didn’t believe him.

Not completely.

Before she could ask another question, the door opened again.

A doctor entered, followed by a nurse.

“Mrs. Moretti,” the doctor said with a relieved smile. “You’re finally awake.”

Alessia’s stomach tightened at the title.

Mrs. Moretti.

It sounded like someone else’s name.

Not hers.

The doctor checked her pupils, asked her a series of questions, and examined the bandage on her head.

“What is the last thing you remember?” he asked.

Alessia thought carefully.

“Three years ago.”

The doctor exchanged a brief glance with Dante.

She noticed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing unusual,” the doctor said carefully. “Your memory loss appears to be limited to the recent past.”

“How much?”

The doctor hesitated.

“Approximately three years.”

Alessia’s chest tightened.

Three years.

Exactly three years.

“Will I remember?”

“Possibly. Memory can return gradually.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

The doctor didn’t answer immediately.

“Then we’ll focus on helping you recover and adjust.”

Alessia looked toward Dante.

He was watching her.

Quietly.

Almost painfully.

She couldn’t understand why a man she couldn’t remember looked at her as though losing her a second time would destroy him.

The doctor eventually left with the nurse.

Silence returned.

Alessia stared at the ceiling.

“Do I have family?”

Dante’s answer came immediately.

“Your parents are dead.”

Her heart dropped.

“What?”

“They died years ago.”

She closed her eyes.

She remembered them.

Their voices.

Her mother’s laugh.

Her father’s hands.

But she couldn’t remember their deaths.

She felt tears gather in her eyes.

Dante reached toward her.

Alessia instinctively pulled away.

His hand stopped in midair.

For several seconds, neither of them spoke.

Then he slowly lowered his hand.

“I won’t force you to remember me,” he said.

Alessia opened her eyes.

“What does that mean?”

“It means you don’t have to pretend you know me.”

She studied him.

“Do you love me?”

Dante’s expression changed.

This time, there was no hiding it.

“Yes.”

The answer came without hesitation.

Alessia looked away.

She didn’t know why, but hearing it made her uncomfortable.

Not because it sounded false.

Because it sounded painfully sincere.

Dante stood.

“I’ll let you rest.”

He turned toward the door.

“Dante.”

He stopped.

She didn’t know why she had called his name.

Maybe because there was something in the way he walked away that felt strangely familiar.

He looked over his shoulder.

“Yes?”

Alessia hesitated.

“Why do I feel like I’m supposed to be afraid of you?”

Dante’s face hardened.

For the first time, she saw something behind his calm expression.

Something dark.

Something dangerous.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he said quietly,

“Because before your accident, you were.”

Alessia’s blood ran cold.

Before she could ask what he meant, he walked out.

The door closed behind him.

She stared at it.

Her mind raced.

Before my accident, I was afraid of my husband?

That didn’t make sense.

She looked down at the wedding ring on her finger.

A beautiful diamond.

Expensive.

Elegant.

But suddenly, it felt heavy.

Almost like a warning.

Outside the hospital room, Dante stopped in the hallway.

His trusted security chief, Marco, was waiting for him.

“She’s awake?”

Dante nodded.

“And she remembers nothing?”

“Nothing.”

Marco lowered his voice.

“Does she remember what happened before she disappeared?”

“No.”

“And the files?”

Dante’s expression darkened.

“Still hidden.”

Marco looked uneasy.

“What are you going to tell her?”

Dante looked through the small glass panel in the hospital door.

Alessia was sitting alone on the bed, staring at her wedding ring.

His wife.

The woman he had nearly lost.

The woman who had once looked at him with love.

The woman who had discovered the darkest secret inside his organization.

Dante’s jaw tightened.

“Nothing.”

Marco frowned.

“Nothing?”

“Not yet.”

“But if she remembers—”

“She won’t.”

Dante’s voice was cold.

“Not until I know who betrayed us.”

Marco went silent.

Dante looked back at Alessia.

Three years ago, she had learned something she was never supposed to know.

She had confronted him.

They had argued.

Then she disappeared.

For three years, Dante had searched for her.

He had torn apart his own organization trying to find out who had taken her.

And now she was finally back.

Alive.

But she had returned without the one thing that could expose him.

Her memories.

Dante should have felt relieved.

Instead, he felt terrified.

Because there was one person who knew exactly what Alessia had discovered.

One person who knew what happened the night she disappeared.

And that person was still alive.

Somewhere.

Watching.

Waiting.

Dante’s phone vibrated in his pocket.

He pulled it out.

One message.

No number.

No name.

Just a photograph.

His eyes narrowed.

It was Alessia.

Three years younger.

Standing outside one of his private buildings.

And beside her was a folder.

The same folder Dante had spent years trying to find.

A second message appeared.

She remembers more than you think.

Dante’s blood ran cold.

He immediately looked through the glass at Alessia.

She was still sitting on the bed.

Still staring at her ring.

Still unaware.

Or at least, pretending to be.

Dante slowly tightened his grip around the phone.

For the first time since Alessia had opened her eyes, fear entered his heart.

Not fear of his enemies.

Not fear of losing his empire.

Fear of losing his wife again.

Because this time, whoever had erased Alessia’s past might be coming back to finish what they started.