We reach the hospital and my door opens even before the car stops. I look up and meet Gabe’s dark blue eyes. He is as tall as Damien, but now he looks worn out. His shoulders are slumped, his dark hair in disarray and his face is haggard like he hasn’t slept much these past days. We stare at each other for a few short but agonizing seconds. We both know what’s at stake. I refuse to allow myself to imagine a scenario in which Damien doesn’t recognize me.

“Aaliya, you’re here.” Gabe holds out his hand to me.

I put my icy fingers in his and let him help me out the car and into the heated interiors of the hospital.

I wait for the doors of the elevator to shut before I ask, “How is he?”

“Fine, other than the memory loss,” he sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. “The doctor says it’s retrograde amnesia—inability to recall past memories due to an injury. As of now, Damien has absolutely no recollection of the last five years of his life. I do hope that seeing you will change that.”

I nod and we lapse into silence. The elevator dings at our floor and as we exit I hear a woman yelling at a nurse in the ward.

“How dare you keep me away from him? I demand to see him now.” Her back is to me, so I can’t see her clearly, but for some strange reason she looks familiar.

The nurse holds her folder closer to her chest and purses her lips. “It’s only family at this point, Ma’am. Anyone else has to be approved by Mr. Westcott. He’s keeping a check on His Grace’s visitors.”

It takes me a second to understand that both the women are talking about Damien.

I turn to Gabe. “Who is that?”

At the same time, the woman yells. “I am his WIFE.”

My head snaps back to her and my eyes widen as the words she has uttered hit my brain. Blood rushes to my head and I sway, staggering a step behind.

Gabe holds my shoulder, steadying me, and pushes me into a chair. His lips are moving but I can’t hear a word he’s saying. I can only hear my heartbeat sounding like a drum in my ears.

A sharp squeeze of my hand forces my attention to Gabriel. He’s kneeling in front of me. “Aaliya, that’s not true. What Celia said is not true.”

My eyes harden as they meet his and my chin juts out. “You know her?”

“Yes, I’ll fix this.”

I lick my dry lips, my mind and heart in turmoil. How can he fix this? From the corner of my eye, I see the nurse escorting that woman, Celia, to a room—Damien’s room.