Elena Hale knew something was wrong the moment she saw the doctor's expression.
Hospitals had a smell that lingered — antiseptic, cold, unforgiving. She had been sitting outside the emergency ward for hours, fingers locked together so tightly her knuckles had turned white.
Alexander never got into accidents.
He was careful, controlled, untouchable — a man who ran empires without breaking a sweat.
Yet here she was.
Waiting.
Praying.
The door finally opened.
A middle-aged doctor stepped out, removing his glasses with a slow sigh. Elena stood immediately, heart racing.
"Doctor… my husband… how is he?"
The doctor hesitated.
"He's awake."
Relief crashed into her chest so suddenly she nearly cried.
But the doctor didn't smile.
"There's a complication."
Her stomach dropped.
"What complication?"
"He suffered trauma to the head. Physically, he's stable… but his memory has been affected."
Elena blinked.
"Affected… how?"
The doctor met her eyes gently.
"He has retrograde amnesia. He remembers most of his life — but the last three years are missing."
Three years.
Elena's breathing stopped.
Three years.
Their marriage was two years and eight months old.
Her lips trembled.
"So… he remembers everything before that?"
"Yes."
"And… me?"
Silence answered her question.
The doctor didn't need to say it.
Elena felt the world tilt beneath her feet.
"You can see him now," the doctor said softly.
The VIP ward was quiet enough to hear her own heartbeat.
Elena paused at the door, fingers hovering over the handle.
She told herself to be brave.
Alexander was alive.
That was enough.
It had to be enough.
She pushed the door open.
Alexander Hale sat against the bed, a white bandage wrapped around his forehead. Even pale and injured, he looked impossibly composed — sharp jawline, dark eyes, the aura of authority that never left him.
For a moment, Elena just stared.
This was her husband.
The man who drank coffee at 2 a.m. while reviewing contracts.
The man who silently placed a blanket over her when she fell asleep on the couch.
The man who never said "I love you" — but showed it in a thousand quiet ways.
Her eyes burned.
"Alexander…"
He looked up.
Their gazes met.
And Elena knew.
There was no recognition.
Only confusion.
Polite distance.
"Who are you?" he asked calmly.
The words cut deeper than any blade.
Elena swallowed hard, stepping closer.
"It's me."
His brows furrowed slightly, searching his mind.
"I'm sorry," he said. "Should I know you?"
Her chest tightened painfully.
"I'm Elena."
The name meant nothing to him.
She watched realization dawn — not familiarity, but discomfort.
Alexander's gaze shifted to the ring on her finger… then to his own.
His expression changed.
"Why are we wearing matching rings?"
Tears threatened, but Elena forced them back.
"Because…" her voice broke despite her effort, "…I'm your wife."
Silence filled the room.
Alexander stared at her.
Seconds stretched.
Then he spoke — quiet, controlled, devastating.
"That's impossible."
Elena felt something inside her shatter.
"I was engaged to Clara Bennett," he continued. "We were planning our wedding."
Each word landed like thunder.
"But you…" his eyes swept over her face again, searching for something that wasn't there, "…I've never seen you before."
Elena finally couldn't stop the tears.
Because the cruelest part wasn't his denial.
It was the sincerity behind it.
To Alexander Hale…
She was a stranger.
Alexander watched the woman cry in front of him and felt an unfamiliar tightness in his chest.
He didn't know her.
He was certain of it.
Yet something about her tears made it hard to breathe.
"Miss Elena," he said carefully, "there must be some misunderstanding."
She laughed softly through tears.
A broken sound.
"There is," she whispered. "A very big one."
He frowned.
Before he could speak again, the door opened.
Victor Hale entered, his cane tapping against the floor.
His sharp gaze moved between them.
"So," the old man sighed, "it really happened."
Alexander straightened.
"Grandfather."
Victor nodded, then looked at Elena with something close to pity.
"Elena," he said gently.
Alexander's confusion deepened.
"You know her?"
Victor gave a humorless smile.
"Of course I do."
He turned to Alexander.
"She is your wife."
The words hung heavy in the air.
Alexander's jaw tightened.
Victor continued quietly.
"And whether you remember it or not… you married her because you chose to."
Elena closed her eyes.
Because that was the most painful truth of all.
He had chosen her once.
And now…
He didn't remember why.