Elise stood by the tall glass window, staring out at the steel-and-glass jungle of New York City. The skyline looked endless, but her world felt small—trapped inside this lie, inside this penthouse, inside her guilt.

She hadn’t slept all night.

Not with Lucien’s question echoing in her head.

“Did I hurt you before the accident?”

How could she tell him the truth?

That he hadn’t hurt her at all—that she’d been nothing but a stranger with a secret?

The door creaked open behind her. Lucien’s steps were slow, deliberate. He was still damp from the shower, towel draped over his shoulder, dark hair slicked back, a silk robe tied loosely around his waist.

“You’re up early,” he murmured, voice husky with sleep.

Elise didn’t turn. “I couldn’t sleep.”

He crossed the room, stopping beside her. His presence warmed the air.

“Elise,” he said gently. “I know something’s not right. I may not have all my memories back, but I’m not stupid.”

She swallowed hard.

“I keep getting flashes. Your face. But not here. Somewhere else. A hallway. Red walls. You were crying, and I let you walk away.”

Her heart clenched.

“I don’t know if it was real,” he continued. “But it felt like guilt.”

She finally turned to him, guilt twisting in her chest like a knife.

“I don’t want to play games,” he said. “If there’s something I should know—tell me now. While I still want to believe you.”

Tears pooled in her eyes, but she blinked them away. “Lucien…”

The silence stretched between them like a wire pulled taut.

“I’m not who you think I am,” she whispered.

His jaw tensed. “Then who are you?”

“I was there the night of your accident,” she said. “I was working. The real nurse didn’t show. I was just supposed to check your vitals. But then… you woke up. You looked at me like I was your entire world. You said my name. ‘Elise.’ And I—I panicked.”

Lucien’s eyes searched hers. “You let me believe we were married.” “I didn’t mean to,” she said quickly. “I tried to correct you, but you were so disoriented. And then the hospital gave me clearance to escort you. I thought it would only be a night. I thought someone would come for you.”

He stepped back, his expression unreadable. “But no one did.”

“No one did,” she echoed.

“And you stayed.”

Elise nodded slowly. “Yes. I stayed.”

Lucien paced across the room, one hand running through his damp hair. “You do realize what this means, don’t you?”

“I didn’t touch your money. I haven’t lied to you about anything else.”

“But the foundation of all of this was a lie.” He turned to her. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

Elise lifted her chin. “You trusted me. Still do. That has to mean something.”

Lucien stared at her for a long moment. His eyes, usually so cold, softened with something that looked suspiciously like conflict.

Finally, he said, “Get dressed. I want you to come with me somewhere.”

“Where?”

“I need to show you something.”

________________________________________

Twenty minutes later, they were in the back of a black Rolls-Royce, gliding down 5th Avenue. Elise sat beside Lucien, dressed in a pale blue blouse and jeans, her fingers nervously twisting together in her lap.

The driver pulled into a quiet cemetery on the Upper East Side.

Lucien stepped out first and held the door open for her.

“This way,” he said.

They walked along a narrow path between the headstones until Lucien stopped in front of one small marble grave.

Elise’s breath caught in her throat.

Avery Holt.

Beloved Sister.

1997 – 2021

She looked at Lucien in confusion.

“She died in a car crash,” he said, voice low. “Three years ago.”

“I’m… so sorry.”

“She was all I had left. After our parents passed, it was just me and Avery. She had epilepsy. That night, I was supposed to pick her up from her friend’s house, but I forgot. Got tied up in a meeting. She tried to drive herself home.”

He knelt beside the headstone and ran his fingers over the engraved name.

“I haven’t been back here since the funeral,” he said. “Didn’t even remember this place until last night. I dreamed about her.”

Elise crouched beside him, unsure what to say.

Lucien looked up at her, his voice barely a whisper. “She used to tell me… ‘No one’s going to love you, Lu, not the real you. You’re too dangerous. Too cold.’”

“She was wrong,” Elise said gently.

He studied her. “Was she?”

Before she could answer, his phone buzzed.

Lucien glanced at it, and his face darkened instantly. He stood, jaw tight.

“What is it?”

He handed the phone to Elise.

[Anonymous Tip: Your “wife” Elise Monroe isn’t who she claims to be. Check her criminal record. She was fired from St. Joseph’s for theft.]

Elise’s face drained of color.

“That’s not true—” she began.

“I didn’t think it was,” Lucien said flatly. “Until you told me you weren’t who I thought you were.”

She stepped forward. “Lucien, I never stole anything. I was accused, but it was a misunderstanding. I was cleared—”

“Then why does the record still say terminated for misconduct?”

“Because the hospital didn’t want to admit their mistake! I was poor, powerless. They needed a scapegoat. So they made me one.”

Lucien’s hands clenched into fists.

“I want to believe you, Elise,” he said. “But you’ve already proven you’ll lie to protect yourself.”

Her eyes welled up. “You trusted me before. You told me I was the only person you felt safe around.”

“That was before I realized how many lies I was living inside.”

He turned and walked toward the car, leaving her standing in the cold.

________________________________________

Back at the penthouse, Elise locked herself in the guest room, her mind racing. Her phone buzzed with a text.

Unknown Number:

You should’ve walked away, Elise. But now it’s too late.

Check the news tonight. You’re about to be exposed.

— H

She threw the phone across the room.

Then she turned to the mirror.

She couldn’t keep doing this.

If Harper was behind this, she wasn’t just trying to ruin Elise—she was trying to destroy Lucien, too.

And Elise had a sinking feeling that Lucien wasn’t the only one with buried secrets.

________________________________________

Lucien sat in his study, staring at a photo of himself and Avery from years ago. She was laughing, her arm slung around his shoulders, and he was grinning—a rare, genuine smile.

He touched the edge of the frame, something stirring in his chest.

For the first time in years, he felt human again.

Because of Elise.

But could he trust her?

Was he becoming the man she believed he could be… or was he just returning to the cold, ruthless creature he used to be?

His phone lit up again. This time, it was Tanya.

Tanya:

Sir, the media has picked up a story about your “wife.” Headlines say she’s a fraud. Want me to release a statement?

Lucien stared at the screen.

Then he typed back.

Lucien:

No. Not yet.

________________________________________

That night, Elise watched the headlines spread across every channel.

“Billionaire’s Amnesia Bride Exposed: Mystery Woman Lied About Marriage.”

“Who Is Elise Monroe? Nurse or Gold Digger?”

“Lucien Holt Betrayed—Fiancée Harper Vale Breaks Silence.”

She couldn’t breathe.

She turned the TV off and stood in the dark, clutching her arms.

A moment later, there was a soft knock at her door.

Lucien.

She opened it slowly.

He stood there, face unreadable.

“They want me to file charges,” he said. “For fraud. For trespassing.”

She nodded, heart in her throat. “I understand.”

He stepped closer. “But I told them no.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks.

“I’m not doing this because I forgive you,” he added coldly. “I’m doing this because I want to find out why you did it. All of it.”

He brushed past her into the room.

“Pack a bag,” he said. “We’re leaving tomorrow.”

She blinked. “Leaving? Where?”

“Vermont. My private estate.”

She stared at him. “Why?”

His eyes gleamed like steel.

“Because if you’re going to destroy me,” he said, “you’re going to do it where no one else can see.”