Chapter 14
Those features, that bone structure—they could have been carved from the same mold.
Why would Juliana have a photo of Dami?
Just then, a soft moan escaped from the person in the bed.
Juliana was waking up.
Lucas's hand closed around the necklace in one swift motion, shoving it deep into his suit pocket.
Juliana's eyes fluttered open slowly. Her gaze drifted across the ceiling for a few seconds before gradually turning to the side, landing on Lucas.
"Hello..." Her voice came out rough and hoarse. "Where... where am I?"
Something in Lucas's chest tightened unexpectedly. "The hospital."
"The hospital?" Juliana's brow furrowed. A dull throb pulsed through her skull while her shoulder screamed with sharp pain, forcing a sharp intake of breath. She tried to push herself upright but her body refused to cooperate.
A large hand appeared, steadying her back, while another reached past to adjust the pillows. The movements weren't particularly gentle, but they were efficient and sure.
"Thank you." Juliana took a moment to catch her breath before looking up at the man properly.
He wore an obviously expensive suit, though badly wrinkled. His features were sharply carved, all hard angles and defined lines. His complexion looked terrible, with pronounced dark shadows beneath his eyes.
After studying him for several seconds, Juliana came to a conclusion.
"Are you one of the hospital aides?" she asked, her tone polite and appreciative. "Thank you for staying with me all this time. That must have been exhausting."
Lucas's brow creased.
In thirty years of life, no one had ever mistaken him for hospital staff.
But looking into those clear, earnest eyes, some inexplicable impulse kept him from correcting her. He simply let out a low sound of acknowledgment from his throat. "Mm."
The assumption seemed to put Juliana at ease. She even offered him a small smile. "Sir, I hate to trouble you, but could you help me get some water?"
Lucas moved to the water pitcher without a word, pouring her a glass of lukewarm water.
As he watched her take careful sips, his emotions tangled into an impossible knot. She didn't remember him. At all.
The hospital room door swung open.
Joshua strode in, white coat billowing behind him. "Julie, you're awake? How are you feeling? Any pain or discomfort?"
"Josh." The moment Juliana saw him, her eyes brightened. "I'm okay, just my head hurts a bit. Everything before this is... kind of fuzzy. I can't really remember what happened."
Joshua's expression darkened instantly. He moved to her side, conducting a quick examination with practiced efficiency.
After confirming it was temporary amnesia from the head trauma, some of the tension left his shoulders. Then his gaze slid to Lucas standing off to the side, and the temperature in his eyes dropped to glacial.
"Josh." Juliana tugged lightly on his sleeve, gesturing toward Lucas with a slight tilt of her head. Her voice dropped to a near-whisper. "This aide has been so kind. He was here when I opened my eyes. He must have been watching over me for hours."
Joshua went very still.
Staring at Lucas's impassive face, he nearly laughed from pure, incredulous fury. An aide? The almighty head of the Sharp family, lurking in his cousin's hospital room playing nursemaid? Did the man have no shame whatsoever?
Lucas met his murderous glare with a slight incline of his head, the barest acknowledgment.
The breath caught in Joshua's throat, stuck somewhere between his lungs and his mouth. Juliana had just regained consciousness. She couldn't handle any kind of shock or stress right now. He couldn't expose Lucas's real identity. Not yet.
"My mother's condition," Lucas spoke up then, his tone almost casual, pitched just loud enough for all three of them to hear clearly. "Professor Lynd. Have you made your decision?"
Understanding dawned across Juliana's face. "What a devoted son! Josh, you absolutely have to help him."
The words lodged in Joshua's throat like broken glass, going neither up nor down.
He remembered exactly what he'd said yesterday—that he'd only operate if Juliana agreed to it. Well, Juliana hadn't just agreed. She'd gone and felt grateful to this bastard in the process.
"Give me the medical records." The words came out clipped, forced through clenched teeth.
Lucas, you calculating son of a bitch.
...
The moment word spread that Juliana had woken up, Paul rushed to the hospital with a child in tow.
Damian wore Matthew's clothes, his small face pinched tight with worry. From Paul's scattered, fragmented updates about how Mommy had been shot trying to save him and was fighting for her life, his heart had been twisted into knots that wouldn't come undone.
When Juliana caught sight of that small figure hovering in the doorway, color flooded back into her bloodless face.
"Matty!"
Something broke in Damian's chest. His eyes burned red as tears threatened to spill over. He couldn't hold back anymore. His legs carried him forward in a run, throwing himself against the bedside. His small hands fisted in the thin fabric of her hospital gown and held on tight.
"Mommy..."
The single word came out soft and broken, trembling with everything he'd been holding inside.
Paul looked between them, worry creasing his features. "Ms. Wells, you really don't remember anything at all?"
Juliana held her recovered son close against her. "Paul, what am I supposed to remember?"
Panic flashed across Paul's face. He'd assumed Juliana had only forgotten the immediate events around her injury, not that her memory loss was this complete.
"You have two sons!" He lowered his voice urgently. "Twins! The boy in your arms right now, that's Matty. But there's another one at the Sharp Estate named Damian! The whole reason you came back to the country was to get that child back from the Sharp family!"
Twins... the Sharp family... Damian...
The words hit like keys turning in a rusted lock, forcing it open with a grinding screech.
The transaction seven years ago. That fire. Being told only one baby had survived. Then returning home and discovering by chance that the other child was alive after all, living at the Sharp Estate...
Blinding pain lanced through her skull. Juliana's face went paper-white.
She remembered. She remembered everything now. Except... how she'd gotten hurt. How she'd ended up in this hospital bed.
Her heart felt like it was caught in a vise, squeezed so tight it ached.
When she thought about the danger at that rescue scene, guilt crashed over her in waves. "Matty, I'm so sorry. At the time, Mommy didn't dare let the Sharp family know you existed. Until I'm strong enough to protect both of you properly, I was terrified they'd take you away from me too."
Damian stared at her pale, drawn face. This mommy, the one Grandmother kept calling a 'bad woman,' was lying here in a hospital bed because she'd saved him. He could tell perfectly well whether someone cared about him or not.
"It's okay, Mommy." He pressed Juliana's hand against his cheek, his voice steady and sure beyond his years. "Mommy, I know how much you've suffered. I'm going to help you."
Seeing Matty so small yet so understanding, Juliana's heart twisted even tighter.
...
The Sharp Estate.
Bianca carried an elegant bowl of congee into the room, her face arranged in the gentle, caring smile she'd practiced countless times in the mirror. She settled herself on the edge of the bed.
"Dami, sweetie, open up. The kitchen made this especially for you. Drink it down and you'll feel better in no time."
Matthew looked at her with blank, empty eyes. He said nothing.
Bianca's smile grew strained at the edges, but she forced herself to maintain her patient tone. "What's wrong, baby? Are you still upset with Grandmother? She was just so worried about you, that's all. Everyone's thrilled you're home safe."
She scooped up a spoonful of the congee and lifted it toward his mouth.
Matthew turned his head away, dodging it.
"I'm not hungry."
"Of course you're hungry. You haven't eaten anything since yesterday." Bianca's carefully maintained patience was fraying thread by thread. She hated this. Hated how he looked at her with those cold, shuttered eyes when she was his mother. When she deserved his love and respect.
"Say it." Bianca set the bowl down with a hard click. Her voice turned sharp. "Look at me and say 'Mom.'"
Matthew lifted his gaze to meet hers directly.
"You're not my mother."
Bianca jerked to her feet as if she'd been slapped.
"I'm not your mother? Then who is?"
Her voice rose with each word, chest heaving as rage flooded through her.