Chapter 287

Chapter 287
【Max's Perspective】

I lay still as the neurologist attached the last electrode to my temple. This was the thirtieth consecutive day of brain scans, each deliberately showing the same abnormal patterns. The doctor reviewed the results with a satisfied nod.

"Let's check your memory," he said, holding up a photograph of Luna. Her red hair framed her delicate features, green eyes looking directly at the camera. My heart ached at the sight of her, but I kept my expression blank.

"Do you know who this is?" the doctor asked.

"No, I don't recognize her," I replied evenly.

He produced another photograph—Isabella Blake. "What about her?"

"I don't recognize her either."

Next came William Blake's photo. "Him?"

"No."

The doctor set the photos aside. "What's your name?"

"I can't remember."

"What do you do for work?"

"I have no idea."

He made a few notes in my chart. "That's enough for today."

After the session, I was permitted to sit in the clinic's garden. I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on my face while mentally calculating how long I'd been separated from Luna and our son. The clinic had diagnosed me with comprehensive memory loss and allowed me considerable freedom—no restraints, permission to walk in the nearby park, regular meals.

Later that evening, I overheard a conversation from the clinic director's office as I passed by.

"Any abnormal situations?" a male voice asked through what sounded like an encrypted call.

"Completely normal. His memory is indeed entirely gone," the director replied.

"Are you certain?"

"One hundred percent."

"Excellent. We have another card to play. Someone will pick him up tonight. Make the arrangements discreet."

"Understood."

Around midnight, a nurse brought me medication. I swallowed the pills, carefully tucking them under my tongue before pretending to fall into a deep sleep. When they came to transport me, I remained limp, conscious but appearing heavily sedated.

---

I awoke in a sparse room containing only a simple bed, a small dresser, and basic toiletries. Metal bars were welded across the window, beyond which I could see high walls. After assessing my surroundings, I ventured out into a spacious hall with a dining table, several chairs, and bookshelves lining one wall.

A paper airplane suddenly landed at my feet. A small boy with pale skin ran toward me.

"Air...airplane..." he stammered, reaching for the toy.

I crouched down, picked up the paper craft, and lifted the child. "What's your name?"

"His name is Matthew," a man's voice answered.

I turned to see Ryan Blake standing nearby, watching me carefully. I recognized him immediately as Luna's father but maintained my confused expression. A woman—Sofia Blake, Luna's mother—appeared beside him, her eyes filled with cautious hope.

"Max, it's been years," Ryan said. "Do you remember Sofia and me?"

"I'm sorry," I replied politely. "I injured my head. I can't remember."

"Isabella, my daughter," Ryan continued. "Do you remember her?"

I shook my head.

"You used to call her Luna when you were children," Sofia corrected gently. "You don't remember anything at all?"

"I truly can't recall," I answered, discreetly noting the numerous surveillance cameras positioned throughout the room.

I set Matthew down, returning his paper airplane. Taking a seat at the table, I asked, "How did I end up here?"

Sofia poured me a glass of water. "We don't know why you were brought in either."

"Thank you," I said, accepting the drink.

Ryan's expression turned grim. "We've been imprisoned here for years, like convicts, though at least we have each other. George and Daphne were brought here some time ago, but then Daphne passed away, and George was taken elsewhere. "

I rose to explore the facility. Every window faced high walls topped with electric fencing. The door led to a locked iron gate with an advanced security system. Beyond stretched a garden, surrounded by another wall, with dense forest visible in the distance.

"Once you're brought here, escape is impossible," Ryan explained. "Security is stricter than a federal prison. Armed guards deliver three meals daily. If you need personal items, write them down and give the list to the guards at mealtime."

"Ryan," I said quietly, "getting in was all I needed. Escaping isn't necessary."

Ryan stared at me in shock. "What did you call me?"

I placed my hand on his shoulder, letting my smile and gaze convey recognition and respect. Though visibly moved, Ryan contained his reaction.

"Where are there no surveillance cameras?" I asked in a low voice.

Ryan guided me to the bathroom. "The shower has a curtain that blocks their view." Then to the bedroom. "The bed has curtains too. Those are the only blind spots."

"That's sufficient," I whispered.

Ryan gripped my wrist, eyes glistening with tears. I patted his hand reassuringly.

"Tonight," I continued, "I'd like to switch sleeping arrangements with your family."

"You want to sleep in our room?" Ryan asked.

"Just for one night."

"Of course. As our new roommate, whatever you need, just ask."

"Do you have a razor and medical alcohol?"

"Yes, we do."

As the day progressed, Ryan asked, "Max, aren't you concerned about being imprisoned here?"

"Not at all."

Sofia, holding Matthew, inquired, "Max, do you truly not remember Luna?"

"I really don't."

"George and Daphne visited once," Sofia began. "They told us Luna lost her memory and married you. Someone stole her identity. She's had difficult years. They also mentioned—"

"Sofia," I interrupted, "I've forgotten everything. Please don't discuss those matters."

Sofia's eyes widened at my casual use of her first name rather than a more formal address. The couple exchanged meaningful glances.

In their eyes, I saw something that had been absent before—hope.