Chapter147 Blank Slate
Alexander's POV
"And if her memories come back?" Dr. Garrison asked.
"Then we'll deal with it." I turned back to the monitors. "Move her to the private suite. I want round-the-clock monitoring. And Dr. Garrison—everything that happens here stays confidential. No records leave this island. No one outside your immediate team knows she's here."
"Understood." But her eyes were troubled.
Hours passed. I stayed at Elena's bedside in the private suite, watching the sun rise over the Atlantic, watching the monitors track her slow return to consciousness. The room was designed to feel less clinical—soft lighting, comfortable furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean. But the medical equipment was state-of-the-art.
Dr. Garrison entered quietly around eight in the morning, checking the monitors one final time before Elena woke.
"Her vitals are stable," she said in a low voice. "Brain activity is normalizing. She should regain consciousness within the hour."
I nodded, not taking my eyes off Elena's peaceful face. "Remember what we discussed about the pregnancy."
"I know." Dr. Garrison's voice was carefully neutral. "We tell her together. But Alexander, lying about the father—"
"I'm not lying," I interrupted. "I'm protecting her from a truth that could destroy her all over again. Julian Sterling got her pregnant, then abandoned her when she lost the first baby. She tried to kill herself because of him. If she remembers that..."
"She has a right to know."
"She has a right to heal." I met her eyes. "The paternity doesn't matter right now. What matters is keeping her alive and safe."
Dr. Garrison looked like she wanted to argue further, but Elena's eyelids began to flutter.
I leaned forward immediately, my hand hovering near hers but not touching. "Elena? Can you hear me?"
Her eyelids lifted slowly, revealing confused amber eyes that struggled to focus. She blinked several times, her gaze moving around the unfamiliar room before finally landing on my face.
I watched her carefully, looking for any sign of recognition.
There was none.
"Where..." Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "Where am I?"
"You're safe," I said gently. "You're at a private medical facility. You've been unconscious for several hours."
Her brow furrowed. Confusion flickered across her face, followed quickly by panic as she tried to grasp at something, anything. "I don't... who are you? What happened to me?"
"My name is Alexander..." I paused, "Holt." I lied, not wanting her to remember anything because of the Sterling surname. Then I continued, "You had an accident. You hit your head very hard. Do you remember anything?"
She closed her eyes, concentrating. I could see her struggling, reaching for memories that weren't there. When she opened her eyes again, they were wide with terror.
"I don't remember," she whispered. "I don't remember anything. I don't know who you are. I don't know where I am." Her breathing quickened. "I don't even know who I am."
There it was. Complete autobiographical amnesia. Just as Dr. Garrison had predicted.
"Your name is Elena," I said gently. "You're twenty-six years old. And you're going to be all right."
"Elena." She repeated the name as if testing it, seeing if it fit. "That's... that's my name?"
"Yes."
"But I don't..." Her hand went to her head, fingers finding the bandage at the back of her skull. "Why can't I remember? What's wrong with me?"
"You have a head injury. The doctor said it's caused memory loss—retrograde amnesia. You can still speak, still think, still understand the world around you. But you can't remember your personal history."
"My history." She looked down at herself, at the hospital gown, the IV line in her arm. Then her hand moved to her throat, finding the silver locket. She pulled it out, staring at the engraved initials. "A.M.H. What does this mean?"
I'd been preparing for this question since I'd first seen the locket. "Those are... they could mean several things. Family names, perhaps. Or initials from someone important to you." I kept my voice deliberately vague. "The locket is clearly valuable, clearly meaningful to you. But the exact details... well, I don't know."
"Family," she whispered, touching the letters. "Why don't I remember? This should mean something to me."
"I know." I kept my voice soft, understanding. "And I know how terrifying this must be. But Elena, you're not alone. I'm here to help you."
"Why?" She looked up at me, fear and suspicion warring in her eyes. "Why would you help me? I don't know you."
"Because we know each other," I said carefully. "We've known each other since we were children. We grew up together."
Her eyes searched my face, looking for something familiar. "We did?"
"Yes. Our families were close. We were... are... very close." I paused, choosing my words carefully. "You're important to me, Elena. Very important."
She stared at me for a long moment, clearly trying to decide whether to believe me. "If we're so close, why don't I feel anything? Why don't I recognize you at all?"
"Because of the injury. But the doctors said your memories might come back. It could take time, but—"
"What if they don't?" Her voice broke. "What if I never remember? What if I don't know who I am for the rest of my life?"
Before I could answer, Dr. Garrison stepped forward, her professional demeanor in place. "Good morning, Elena. I'm Dr. Sarah Garrison. I've been overseeing your treatment. How are you feeling?"
"Confused," Elena said, her voice trembling. "Scared. I can't remember anything about myself."
"That's a normal response to the type of head injury you sustained." Dr. Garrison moved to check the monitors. "Your brain experienced significant trauma. The amnesia is your mind's way of protecting itself while it heals."
"Will my memories come back?"
"It's possible. Some patients recover their memories within days or weeks. Others take months. And some..." She paused delicately. "Some never fully regain what they've lost. But that doesn't mean you can't build new memories, new experiences. You're still you, Elena. Memory doesn't define who you are."
Elena's hand went unconsciously to her stomach. Both Dr. Garrison and I noticed.
"Elena," Dr. Garrison said gently, "while you were unconscious, we conducted a thorough medical examination to ensure you hadn't sustained any other injuries. During that examination, we discovered something important." She paused. "You're pregnant. Approximately eight weeks along."
The color drained from Elena's face. "Pregnant?" Her hand pressed harder against her stomach, as if she could feel the truth of it. "I'm pregnant?"
"Yes. The fetus appears healthy despite everything you've been through."
"But I don't..." Elena looked between us, panic rising in her voice. "I don't remember being pregnant. I don't remember... I don't remember being with anyone." Her eyes locked on mine, desperate and afraid. "Is it... are you...?"