Chapter 2

Julia Owen POV:

Ten minutes later, I'm in the passenger seat of Liam Hewitt's silver Bentley.

In the rearview mirror, Cayden and Vivian are pressed together in the back, whispering. They look like conjoined twins, fused by their shared deceit. Cayden keeps glancing at me, his expression a mixture of suspicion and relief. Vivian just smirks, a look of pure, unadulterated triumph on her face.

A scent of cedarwood and something cold, like winter air, washes over me as Liam leans across the console. I flinch, my body tensing, my breath catching in my throat.

His expression is unreadable. He says nothing, his movements economical and precise as he clicks my seatbelt into place. He settles back into his seat, his large hands resting on the steering wheel.

The engine purrs to life.

"Is this normal?" he asks, his voice low and laced with a strange hint of amusement. His eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. "Buckling up my fiancée? Have I done this before?"

I force down the knot of panic in my chest and turn to look out the window. "I don't remember."

His hand reaches out, his fingers brushing the back of mine. It's a light, fleeting touch, but it sends a jolt through me. "Don't worry," he says, his voice a soft promise. "You'll remember."

The words, meant to be comforting, seem to be a direct provocation to the man in the back seat.

Cayden's face darkens. He yanks his arm away from Vivian. "Liam," he warns, his voice tight. "The Hewitt family values propriety. Until the wedding is official, you don't touch Julia."

Liam lets out a soft, disdainful scoff. He doesn't even turn his head, but I feel the weight of his mockery. "This is between my fiancée and me," he says, emphasizing the word. "You're overstepping, cousin."

Vivian's triumphant expression falters. She leans forward, her voice dripping with fake concern. "Julia, do you really not remember anything?"

I meet her gaze in the mirror and give a small, helpless shake of my head.

The tension in her shoulders visibly relaxes. She becomes chatty, eagerly filling the silence with a carefully curated version of our shared history. She talks about our friendship, from the private academy where we met to the years she "took care of me" after my family fell from grace.

Every word is technically true, but now they feel like tiny, sharp daggers sliding into my heart.

"My parents always treated you better than they treated me," she says, her arm once again linked with Cayden's. There's a smile in her voice, but her eyes are hard. She glances quickly at Liam, then back at me. "I'm so glad you've finally found your happiness. I truly wish you all the best."

The words sound so genuine they make my eyes burn. I turn away, focusing on the blur of city lights outside the window.

A few minutes later, Cayden sits up straight. "Wait, this is the wrong way. Where are we going?" he stammers, pointing out the window. "Vivian's place is in the other direction."

Liam's eyes are fixed on the road, but I feel his gaze on me. One hand rests casually on the wheel.

"I'm taking my fiancée back to our home," he states, his voice calm and final.

I look at him then, truly look at him. The Don. In the blinding pain of betrayal, I'd almost forgotten. The man sitting beside me, my supposed protector, was far more dangerous than the two vipers in the back.

He was, perhaps, the one person in the world who would most want me to have amnesia.

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