The Amnesiac's Final Gambit

When I was pulled from the icy lake, my fiancé, Nico Valenti, looked utterly shattered, his beautiful blue eyes bloodshot.

A dangerous idea sparked in my mind: I would test him.

"I think I have amnesia. Where is this?"

I stared at him, my expression carefully blank.

He froze for a heartbeat, then seized his older brother, Preston Valenti, shoving him in front of me.

"Preston, take your fiancée to the hospital—now."

My smile faltered.

Preston drew me into his arms.

"Roxanne, I'm your fiancé. Have you forgotten?"

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1

After a series of exams, the family doctor declared my "amnesia" a side effect of a concussion.

I curled my fingers, my nails digging deep into my palms.

Nico’s eyes lit up, his joy barely concealed.

So, he didn't care one bit whether I lived or died.

The realization plunged me into an icy abyss.

Preston, however, carefully draped an expensive cashmere coat over my shoulders, his movements so gentle it was as if he thought I were made of glass.

"Wait for me here. I'll take you home."

I gazed at his deeply chiseled face, as sharp and cold as a sculpture, and nodded numbly.

Then, I quietly followed him.

Nico's sickeningly sweet voice drifted from the study. "Preston, just help me out this once. I can finally be rid of Roxanne, this burdensome political engagement. Pretending to be obsessed with her makes me sick, you have no idea how much I've suffered."

Preston's voice was as cold as a blade. "You're the one with the engagement. If she regains her memory, things will get complicated."

A moment of silence. Then Nico’s voice again, almost pleading.

"You know I've always loved Bianca. But she's just the daughter of a distant relative, and I'm supposed to marry Roxanne. Now that she's 'forgotten,' just let me and Bianca have a few days. You're my brother—I trust you. Just... don't let this charade with Roxanne become real. I still have to go through with the marriage eventually."

I gasped and stumbled back, collapsing into the chair outside the study.

The man who'd once been my shadow, constantly whispering how much he loved me in luxury cars, in bed, even while waiting outside the bathroom door for me... He had just handed me over to his brother like an object.

That fake love? I didn't want it anymore.

Since Bianca was the one he truly wanted...

Fine. I'd let them have their happiness.

When Preston returned, he pulled me firmly into his arms, his hold so gentle it felt as if I might shatter at his touch.

In the car, he leaned over and carefully fastened my seatbelt.

Even lying on the bed in his penthouse apartment, I felt utterly out of place.

Black, white, gray, silver.

No photos, no superfluous decorations. Even the pillows carried a cold, crisp scent.

The entire place was like a sterile, priceless fortress, devoid of warmth, let alone a single feminine touch.

I clutched my silk dress, soaked and stiff from the lake water, and stood there, lost.

Preston didn't even blink.

"Go change into my robe."

He leaned in, his lips brushing my forehead, then let out a soft sigh. "Good, no fever. Get some rest. I'll pour you a glass of whiskey to warm you up."

Every time I'd seen him before, he had felt unreachable.

Cold, aloof, decisive, and ruthless.

I'd even heard that a woman once tried to drug him, and he’d had her thrown directly into the Hudson River.

And now?

The look in his eyes... was a drowning tenderness.

This man, who seemed to view all women as the enemy, was now ignoring his brother's warning, holding me, about to kiss me.

I watched Preston's back as he moved to the bar.

He must have felt my gaze, because he glanced back, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Just a moment."

I bit my tongue, trying to fight the feeling of sinking. "I don't want to be a bother."

His smile deepened, genuine pleasure lighting his features. "You are my fiancée. It is my right to have you here."

Preston had always been disciplined, cold, with zero tolerance for betrayal.

And now, he was betraying his own brother—the family's heir apparent.