Chapter 133 What's the point of living?
~Hermes~
My eyes are still shut, but I’m fully conscious now.
I can hear Natalya’s voice fading, her heels tapping against the sterile floor as she and Charlotte leave the ward. The moment the door clicks shut, I exhale quietly, finally opening my eyes.
I push myself up, the IV tugging against my arm. My head throbs, dull but bearable.
The door opens again.
I tense, ready to close my eyes and fake sleep—but it’s Ted.
"Well, that took long enough, he says, walking in with his usual bored expression, flipping through the monitor readings.
"You didn’t tell them anything, right?" I ask, sitting straighter, ignoring the sting in my temples.
Ted sighs, dragging a chair closer to the bed. "I told you I wouldn’t." He drops into the seat and folds his arms. "Now do you mind telling me why you were rushed into my hospital on a Tuesday afternoon?"
I cross my arms, looking away. "I do mind."
"God, Hermes." He rubs his face, muttering under his breath before meeting my eyes again. "You’re starting to forget things, aren’t you?"
My head jerks toward him. How the hell does he know that?
Then it clicks—he must’ve run tests when I was unconscious.
Ted studies my silence like it’s an answer. "Don’t worry," he says, tone softening. "I told them it was just a migraine. But you really need to consider the surgery, Hermes."
He leans forward slightly, his voice dropping. "The bomb in your head is ticking."
I turn to him slowly, my expression flat. "The surgery won’t solve anything, Ted. You said it yourself — it’s risky. I could die on the table."
Ted leans forward, frustration flickering across his face. "I know a doctor who’s done it. Many times. Successfully. You don’t have to worry."
I let out a humorless laugh. "You think I have time to sit on a hospital bed while someone drills into my skull? I don’t. I have things to fix, Ted. A company to stabilize. An unplanned wedding to go through with."
Ted shoots to his feet, his chair scraping the floor. "A wedding? That’s what you’re thinking about right now?" He runs a hand through his hair, disbelief clouding his face. "Hermes, you have months — months — to live, and you’re still talking about business and marriage?"
I smirk faintly, though it feels heavy on my lips. "Tell that to the people controlling my life right now."
Ted shakes his head. "You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep pretending—"
"The surgery isn’t convincing enough," I cut in sharply. "Even if it works, I’ll lose everything — every memory, every person I’ve ever known. What’s the point of living if I don’t remember who the hell I am?"
Ted exhales hard, the fight draining out of him. He stares at me for a long moment, then nods slowly, as if accepting defeat. "Fine," he mutters. "But I’m prescribing you something — for when this happens again. Because it will happen again."
He pulls out a notepad and scribbles something quickly before ripping the paper off. "Take them when you feel it coming. And Hermes—" his tone softens, "I’m worried about you. I mean it."
I look away, jaw tightening.
Worried. Everyone’s always worried.
But worry doesn’t save anyone.
Just then, it hits me — sharp and uninvited.
The memory of June’s voice cutting through the chaos at the cafeteria.
"Hermes, are you okay?"
The panic in her tone. The way Natalya looked at her — too still and calculating.
My jaw tightens.
If Natalya knows… if she even suspects...
She won’t touch June. Not a strand of her hair, not while I’m still breathing.
Ted’s voice pulls me back. He’s still talking — something about how living with memory loss is better than dying with all of them intact. He keeps rambling, his tone firm but soft around the edges.
"Memories can come back slowly, Hermes," he’s saying. "With time, therapy—"
"Where’s Natalya?" I cut in, ripping the IV out of my arm. The sting barely registers.
Ted startles. "She left with Charlotte. Said they were getting something for you."
Relief trickles through me — thin but enough.
Charlotte being with her means she won’t do anything stupid. At least not yet.
"I need to go," I say, swinging my legs off the bed.
"Go? Where?" Ted asks, half-amused. "To see your wife?"
I pause, my glare sharp enough to slice. "Don’t call her that."
Ted raises his brows, lips twitching. "You still haven’t explained anything to us, but I think I’ve gotten the hang of it."
I button my shirt, jaw ticking. "I need to go see the people controlling my life," I mutter, voice low, bitter. "And find out what they plan to do with it next — since apparently, I’ve only got a few months left to live."
Ted folds his arms, pity creasing his face, and it makes my blood boil.
"You should tell them about your condition," he says quietly. "Maybe they’d cut you some slack."
I almost laugh. "Can’t do that."
I grab the folded prescription from the bedside table, slip it into my pocket, and walk past him without looking back.
If the clock’s ticking, I’m not wasting what’s left waiting for mercy.
I arrive at the center where my father is, tension coiling in my chest. I need answers. I need to confront him for making decisions—decisions that could’ve at least been told to me. Maybe they did tell me, and I forgot. If that’s the case… somehow, that’s worse. Worse than never being told at all, because now I know my time is ticking, and if I don’t act, losing June won’t be worth the cost.
I’ve chosen my father’s company over her. It better be worth it.
Pushing the door open, I freeze for a fraction of a second. My jaw tightens. There they are—my father and Dominic Voss—chatting like old friends, smiling and laughing. Happy. Meanwhile, I feel like I’m standing at the bottom of a pit, tasked with saving one company while marrying another man’s daughter against my will.
"Ah, son… come in," my father says, his eyes bright.
I force a smile, shutting the door behind me, noting it’s the first time I’ve seen Dominic since my father woke up.
"Uncle Dom," I greet, lowering myself into the chair beside him.
"Hermes, you’ve become quite big since I last saw you," Dominic says with a grin. "You must be excited for the marriage."
I feel my stomach twist. Excited?
"I know, right?" my father cuts in, cheerful as ever. "The youngsters had always wanted to get married since they were kids. And now it just happened when we needed a distraction. Like catching two birds with one stone."
"Exactly," Dominic adds, laughing along.
I watch them, irritation curling up my spine. Old men romanticizing a forced, strategic marriage like it’s some kind of charming anecdote. They don’t care that the desire I once had to marry Natalya died years ago. That desire is gone—swept aside the moment I decided to reject it. And yet here they are, acting like it’s the most natural, celebratory thing in the world.
"Son, what is this?" my father interrupts my thoughts. "Aren’t you excited?"
"Did Nat do anything?" Dominic chimes in, grinning like the world is simple and obedient, unlike mine.
I clench my fists, forcing my lips into a thin, polite line. Excited. Right. I want to laugh, or scream, or break something. But none of it will change the fact that I’m trapped in their plan, with the clock of my own life ticking and I'm the one losing in their strategic game.
"It’s not that," I say firmly, my eyes locked on my father. "I’m focused on clearing your name, Father. If we do that… all of this—these marriage arrangements—wouldn’t even be necessary."
Lucien rubs his chin, a subtle nod betraying his agreement. I seize the moment, pressing further. "Do you remember anything before the day you found out you were framed?"
He exhales, his gaze serious, and answers, "Before Astrada Pharmaceutical approached me, Solivane Biotech came first—and I rejected the offer." He coughs lightly, wincing.
"Oh, son… you should leave your father be. He’s still recuperating," Dominic interrupts, stepping in smoothly. "I’m still investigating the issue. You don’t need to worry. Just stick to the plan. The marriage is only for convenience. Just a six-month ruse, okay?"
I bite my lips, staring at my father while Dominic hands him a glass of water. My mind races, weighing every word.
"Alright. I’ll be back at a much better time," I say finally, standing up. My gaze lingers on Lucien, then on Dominic. My jaw tightens as I stand up from the chair.
As I reach the door, my phone buzzes. I glance down and see a message from Natalya:
"I’m picking up dresses. Come to SCC."
My jaw flexes involuntarily. That’s my cue. I’m going to confront her. I need to know—does she know about June? And more importantly, what is she planning next?