Chapter 139 Chapter 139

Chapter 139 Chapter 139
Chloe’s POV 

I had just grabbed my bag and car keys when my office line rang again.

For a split second, irritation flared through me. I did not want to hear anything else. Drake was awake. That was all that mattered.

I answered anyway.

“Ma’am,” my assistant’s voice came through, slightly breathless. “The Petrovia group is here. They’re waiting to finalize the contract.”

I closed my eyes briefly.

That was the last major deal pending this quarter. If it stalled, competitors would circle.

“I’m on my way down,” I said.

As I walked toward the elevator, my phone buzzed again. Another executive this time.

“There’s also something else,” he said carefully. “The board confirmed the annual awards ceremony. It’s in three days.”

I stopped walking.

“What ceremony?” I asked.

“The Corporate Excellence Awards. You were nominated. It was finalized last week.”

“No one informed me,” I said sharply.

There was an awkward pause.

“We assumed you were aware. The invitations went out through PR.” I exhaled slowly, fighting the frustration rising in my chest. “I’ve been handling three departments personally,” I replied. “I don’t have time for surprises.”

“We apologize,” he said quickly. “But your presence is essential. The press will be there.”

Of course they would. I pressed my fingers against my temple. “Fine,” I said finally. “I’ll attend.”

All I wanted was to go to the hospital. But leadership did not pause for personal relief.

I stepped into the conference room where the Petrovia executives were waiting. They stood as I entered, greeting me formally. I forced myself to focus. The negotiation was brief but precise. I clarified clauses, adjusted timelines, and ensured the revenue projections aligned with our restructuring model. My mind moved mechanically, even as my heart raced toward the hospital.

When the final signature was placed on the document, one of the clients smiled broadly.

“Congratulations,” he said. “Your leadership has restored confidence.”

I nodded politely, already gathering my things. Within an hour, I had handled the ceremony logistics, delegated preparation tasks, and dismissed the remaining executives.

Then I left. The drive to the hospital felt longer than usual. As soon as my car pulled up, I saw the crowd.

Cameras.

Reporters.

Microphones raised in anticipation. News had spread quickly that Drake had regained consciousness.

When I stepped out, flashes exploded around me.

“Miss Chloe! Is it true he asked for you?”

“Are you carrying his child?”

“Will he resume control of the company?”

Questions came from every direction.

My security team moved quickly, creating a barrier around me. I kept my head high and said nothing. My heels clicked sharply against the pavement as I walked through the chaos. Inside the hospital, the atmosphere was tense. I moved down the familiar corridor toward his room. But when I reached it, I saw something that made me slow down.

Margaret and Jack were already inside. The door was slightly open. I stopped just outside, my chest tightening. I could hear voices.

His voice. Awake. Clear. Talking.

Laughing lightly. Like nothing had happened. Like three months of coma were just a nap.

I felt something warm flood my chest. Relief. I pushed the door open gently. And then I saw him.

Drake was sitting upright against the hospital pillows. His face looked thinner, but his eyes were open. Alert.

Margaret stood close to the bed, her hand resting lightly on his arm. Jack stood on the other side, leaning in slightly.

They looked like a family.

Like the past three months of chaos had never existed. My heart pounded as I stepped inside. His eyes shifted toward the movement. They landed on me. For a second, I thought I saw recognition. Then his expression changed.

He frowned. I stopped mid-step. “It’s me,” I said softly. “Chloe.”

Silence filled the room.

He looked at me carefully, like I was a stranger who had walked into the wrong place.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked.

The words hit harder than any slap.

Margaret’s lips twitched slightly. Jack looked stunned, but not in the way I expected.

“It’s Chloe,” I repeated, my voice barely steady.

Drake’s brows furrowed deeper.

“I don’t know you,” he said flatly.

The room seemed to spin slightly. Margaret moved closer to him protectively.

“She’s no one,” she said smoothly. “Just someone from the company.”

I stared at him.

“You don’t remember?” I whispered.

Drake shook his head slowly.

“Should I?” he asked.

The air left my lungs. Jack stepped forward abruptly. “You need to leave,” he said sharply. 

“I—” My voice broke. 

Margaret’s hand shot toward the door. “You heard him,” she said coldly. “He doesn’t know you.”

I looked at Drake again, searching desperately for something in his eyes.

Anything. There was nothing. No recognition. No warmth.

No memory. He looked at me the way he would look at any unfamiliar visitor. Jack moved closer to me, his hand gripping my arm.

“Get out,” he hissed. Drake said nothing. He did not stop them. He did not question it.

He simply watched. I felt numb as they guided me toward the door. My feet moved without instruction. The hallway outside felt too bright.

The door closed behind me. I stood there, staring at the wood as if it might open again.

But it didn’t.

I turned slowly and began walking down the corridor, my vision blurred by tears I hadn’t even realized were falling.

I reached the corner before my knees nearly gave out.

“Miss Chloe.” I looked up. It was the doctor.

“He’s awake,” I said weakly, as if confirming it.

“Yes,” the doctor replied gently. “But there is something you should know.”

My stomach tightened. “He suffered significant trauma,” the doctor continued. “The impact caused memory disruption.”

I felt the ground shift beneath me.

“What kind of disruption?” I asked quietly.

“He has retrograde amnesia,” the doctor explained. “There are gaps in his memory.”

My throat went dry.

“How far back?”

The doctor hesitated. “He remembers his early life,” he said. “His marriage. His son.”

My heart pounded violently.

“But the months leading up to the accident,” he continued, “are unclear.”

I staggered back a step.

“He does not remember you,” the doctor said softly. Tears streamed down my face without restraint now.

Six months pregnant. Three months fighting for him. Building his empire.

Standing by his hospital bed.

And now—

I was erased.

I placed a trembling hand over my stomach.

“He doesn’t remember…” I whispered.

The doctor’s expression was sympathetic.

“It may return,” he said gently. “Or it may not.”

The hallway felt suffocating. Margaret was inside that room. Jack was inside that room.

And I—

I was no one.

I turned away slowly, tears blurring the path ahead. Drake was awake.

But the man who had called me the love of his life no longer knew my name.