Chapter 140 Chapter 140
Chapter 140 Chapter 140
Chloe’s POV
I do not remember driving home.
I only remember the silence.
The kind of silence that presses against your ears until it becomes unbearable.
The moment I stepped into my house, the strength I had been forcing all day shattered. I dropped my bag on the floor and slid down against the wall, sobbing like I had not allowed myself to in months.
Not when I was framed.
Not when I almost went to jail.
Not when I stood in front of rooms full of men who doubted me.
Not when I rebuilt his company from ashes.
But this—
This broke me.
He had looked at me like I was nothing.
Like I was a stranger trying to intrude on his life.
I pressed my hands against my face and cried until my chest hurt.
Three months.
Three months of hospital corridors and whispered updates. Three months of signing contracts with one hand and holding his unconscious one with the other. Three months of carrying his child while the world tore me apart.
I remembered the day the board begged me to step in. The weight of that decision. The exhaustion. The way I swallowed my pride and faced shareholders who once wanted me imprisoned.
I remembered sealing deals while fighting nausea.
I remembered the night I stood on my balcony and promised myself I would hold everything together until he woke up.
And now he has. And I was erased. I lay there on the floor for what felt like hours, staring at nothing. Part of me wanted to give up. To let Margaret reclaim the company. To walk away. To stop fighting for a man who could not even recognize me. But then the baby shifted inside me.
A firm, undeniable movement. I placed my hand over my stomach slowly. “You’re not nothing,” I whispered to myself. “And neither am I.”
He might not remember. But that did not erase what happened. It did not erase the nights he held me.
The promises he made. The way he called me the love of his life before the crash. Memory loss did not rewrite reality. I wiped my face and forced myself up.
The next morning, I dressed carefully.
Not for vanity.
For presence.
I chose a fitted dress that highlighted my belly unmistakably. My bump was no longer something I could hide, and I did not intend to. I styled my hair neatly, applied light makeup, and stood in front of the mirror for a moment.
If he did not recognize me, he would see me.
I drove to the hospital early, before visiting hours became crowded. The hallway outside his room was quiet. I took a steady breath and walked in.
He was alone. Sitting upright, flipping through something on a tablet. He looked up when the door opened. His eyes met mine. And there it was again.
Blankness.
Polite confusion.
“Yes?” he said.
I walked closer slowly.
“It’s me,” I said softly. “Chloe.”
He studied my face for a few seconds.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Should I know you?”
The words did not hurt less the second time.
“You knew me,” I replied carefully. “You knew me very well.” He frowned slightly.
“I don’t think so.”
I swallowed.
“We were together,” I said gently. “Before the accident.” His expression hardened a little.
“I’m married,” he said.
“I know.”
His gaze dropped to my stomach. There was no recognition in his eyes. “You’re pregnant,” he observed neutrally.
“Yes,” I whispered. “With your child.”
Silence. Then he shook his head slowly.
“The only child I have is Jack.”
It felt like the air had been knocked out of me.
“This baby is yours,” I insisted softly. “You were there. You know that.”
“I don’t remember any of that,” he said, his tone firm but not cruel. “And I don’t think I would forget something like that.”
“You forgot me,” I replied before I could stop myself.
He stared at me. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful,” he said. “But I think you’re confused.”
Confused.
The word stung. I stepped closer.
“You told the whole hospital you loved me,” I said, my voice trembling. “You called my name before you passed out.”
He looked unsettled. “I don’t recall that.”
“You don’t remember the company nearly collapsing?” I continued. “You don’t remember asking me to protect it?”
He shook his head again. “I remember my company,” he said. “I remember my wife. I remember my son.”
Nothing else.
My fingers tightened around my bag.
“I can show you proof,” I said suddenly. “About Jack. About everything.”
He looked confused now.
“What about Jack?”
Before I could reach for my phone, the door opened sharply. Margaret. She froze for a split second when she saw me.
Then her expression hardened.
“I thought I made myself clear,” she said coldly.
Drake looked between us.
“Who is she?” he asked.
Margaret stepped closer to him.
“No one,” she said smoothly. “Just someone trying to take advantage of your condition.”
“That’s not true,” I said immediately.
Margaret turned toward me, her eyes blazing.
“You need to leave.”
“I’m not finished,” I replied.
“Yes, you are,” she snapped.
She grabbed my arm and pulled me back toward the door. I tried to resist, but my strength felt drained.
Drake did nothing. He simply watched. No protest. No confusion.
No instinct to defend me.
I stopped struggling.
I looked at him one last time. He was alive.
He was conscious.
And he was gone.
I let Margaret push me out into the hallway.
The door closed behind me with a soft click. I stood there for a moment, staring at it.
Then I turned and walked away.
Tears blurred my vision as I made it outside. By the time I reached my car, I was sobbing openly.
I could not believe that after everything we had shared, after every night, every promise, every fight, every victory—
He did not remember me.
Not my name.
Not my touch. Not the child I was carrying.
Nothing.