Chapter 155 Who Am I?
Alexander's POV:
I sat by the window of villa, staring at Nick's concerned face on my laptop screen.
"So, are you bringing Emma back to the States for Thanksgiving?" he asked.
I shook my head. "Not possible in her current condition."
"Three months, man." Nick's voice softened. "Is there any change at all?"
I glanced toward the bedroom door where Emma lay motionless, as she had since the surgery. "Her hair has grown out quite a bit," I said flatly, "but no signs of waking."
Movement outside caught my attention. Several black SUVs with the Phoenix family insignia were approaching the villa.
"I need to go," I said abruptly, ending the call without waiting for Nick's response.
I moved to the entrance, watching as the convoy of vehicles pulled up.
Isabella emerged from the house, looking equally confused. "Why are there so many of our cars?" she asked, approaching me.
The door of the first SUV swung open, and Jasmine bounced out, immediately directing the others to exit their vehicles.
"Jasmine, what is this?" Isabella asked, bewildered.
"Three months!" Jasmine exclaimed, throwing her hands up dramatically. "Emma's been lying in that bed for three months!"
"She must be so bored, so miserable," she continued passionately.
"I brought five cars of models! Even if she's lying in bed, I know she can hear us!" Jasmine pointed toward the vehicles where thirty male models were now lining up. "I'm throwing her a party! We're going to make her feel alive again!"
Half an hour later, I found myself pressed against the wall of Emma's bedroom, watching in disbelief as deafening electronic music filled the space. The thirty models danced around Emma's bed with abandon, while the DJ and lighting technicians had transformed our serene bedroom into what could only be described as a nightclub.
Bill, Megan, Neil, Joseph, Isabella, James, and Antonio stood awkwardly alongside me, all of us completely out of our element. I'd faced hostile takeovers, corporate espionage, and numerous high-stakes negotiations, but nothing had prepared me for thirty male models dancing around my unconscious wife.
As I observed this bizarre scene with a mixture of disbelief and grudging admiration for Jasmine's creativity, something caught my eye. Emma—who had been motionless for months—was slowly sitting up in bed, her eyes blinking in confusion as she looked around.
My heart stopped.
"Emma!" I rushed forward, pushing past the dancing models to reach her. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her protectively against my chest.
"Emma!!" Megan cried from somewhere behind me.
"Donna!!" James and Isabella shouted simultaneously.
The music cut off abruptly as everyone crowded around the bed. I reluctantly loosened my hold on Emma so she could see the faces around her.
"Emma! You're finally awake!" Megan sobbed, throwing herself onto the bed and embracing Emma.
Jasmine joined the emotional reunion. "Emma! If I'd known hot guys would wake you up, I would have brought them months ago!" She too was crying as she hugged Emma.
"Where am I?" Emma asked, her voice hoarse from disuse. "What's happening?"
The room fell silent, Megan and Jasmine freezing mid-sob as they stared at Emma. The confusion in her eyes sent a chill through my spine.
"Emma, do you..." I hesitated, struggling to voice my fear. "Do you know who I am?"
She looked at me blankly. "No, I don't recognize you."
"Don't..." Megan pulled back, panic flashing across her features. "Emma, it's me. Do you know who I am?"
Emma shook her head slowly. "I don't recognize you either."
One by one, everyone in the room asked the same question: "Do you know who I am?" Each time, Emma's response was the same: "I don't recognize you." With each repetition, I felt my hope fracturing further.
"Wait," Emma held up her hand, stopping the increasingly distressed questioning. "My turn now."
I nodded, forcing myself to focus. "Of course, go ahead."
"First, tell me who I am!" Emma demanded, pointing to herself and looking expectantly at us.
"You don't even remember yourself?" Jasmine asked incredulously.
Emma shook her head.
I sat beside her on the bed, gently taking her hand in mine. Emma looked down at our intertwined fingers with curiosity but didn't pull away.
Jackson stepped forward and carefully explained the situation—her three-month coma following brain surgery, her identity as Emma North, and our relationships to her.
"I've been lying here for three months?!" Emma jumped off the bed in shock, only for her legs to give out immediately. I caught her before she hit the floor, my arms moving instinctively to protect her.
"I need a shower right now," she declared. "Three months without bathing—that's disgusting!"
"You need to clean these sheets and blankets too," she added, looking around frantically for the bathroom.
Despite everything, I felt a hint of a smile touch my lips. Even without her memories, Emma's forthright personality remained intact.
"Your bedding is changed daily," I explained gently, supporting her weight. "And I've bathed you myself every day. You're very clean."
"What do we do now?" Jasmine asked.
"Her waking up is already excellent news," Neil responded. "First, get your model squad out of here so I can examine her properly."
Neil and the medical team conducted a thorough examination and series of tests before delivering their conclusion.
"Physically, Emma is recovering well," Neil explained. "As we predicted, she's experiencing amnesia, one of the potential side effects we discussed, rather than blindness."
"The tumor is partially responsible for the memory loss, but the increased anesthesia dosage likely contributed as well, causing damage to her memory functions."
"Whether her memory will return is uncertain. Neural pathways are unpredictable. We'll have to take this one day at a time."
I nodded, clinging to the positives. Emma was awake. She was healthy. Despite everything, she was still here with me, still alive. Memory or no memory, that was what mattered most.
"Listen carefully," Jasmine said, moving close to Emma and pointing to herself. "My name is Jasmine Rossi. Forgetting me once is forgivable, but if you forget me again..." Her eyes welled with tears. "I'll... I'll never speak to you again."
"I'm Megan Sterling," Megan said, wiping tears from her cheeks. "Please don't forget me again, Emma."
One by one, everyone in the room introduced themselves to Emma. With each name, I watched her concentrate deeply, as if the names were vaguely familiar but she couldn't place them.
"Phoenix?" Emma suddenly murmured, the word emerging unprompted. "What's that?"
I felt the room freeze around me. Every Phoenix member—Isabella, James, Antonio—exchanged alarmed glances.