Emma rushed to the window, her heart racing. She yanked the curtain aside, and sunlight poured into the room. The golden rays illuminated everything, making her squint in disbelief.
"Wait—" she muttered under her breath, panic bubbling inside her. She spun around, scanning the room for any sign of what had happened.
Just five minutes ago, she had finished her coffee and had barely shut her eyes, hoping for a few minutes of rest. And now… morning?
She pressed her hand to her forehead. "No way. Did I just… lose hours in an instant?" Her mind reeled, trying to rationalize it. She hadn't felt herself drift off to sleep. There was no grogginess, no dream, no warning—just coffee, then daylight.
Her fingers clenched the curtain tightly as she whispered, "What's happening to me? Is it because of the fever?" She pressed her hand to her forehead again, still feeling the heat radiating from her skin. The headache was growing, but she tried to shake it off, convincing herself that the fever was the cause of her confusion.
She looked up at the clock on the wall, her heart skipping a beat. 'The sun had already risen. But… I just closed my eyes for a moment,' she thought, trying to stay positive. It felt like only a few minutes had passed since she finished her coffee, yet the room was bathed in daylight now.
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Emma looked out the window. The view outside was stunning—the garden seemed to stretch forever, with neat paths and fountains sparkling in the sunlight.
She frowned. She had never been to Whitmore's mansion before, not once. Even now, it felt strange and too big to be real. "I didn't think it was this huge," she muttered, her fingers brushing the curtain.
The size wasn't the only thing bothering her. The place felt... off. Like it belonged to someone else entirely, not her.
Closing her eyes for a moment, she felt the headache throb harder, making her wince. "I need more sleep," she murmured, dragging herself back to the plush bed. It was a luxury she'd never had before, and for a brief second, she allowed herself to sink into its comfort. She pulled the blanket up, determined to rest and shake off the confusion.
But her plan was shattered when the door suddenly swung open, and a cheerful voice filled the room.
"Emma!" A young woman, seemingly her age, beamed at her from the doorway. Her energy felt like a slap of cold water. "I heard you've been back for two months! Sorry I didn't come sooner. The NCY branch shipped me off for three months, and let me tell you—it was hell!"
The woman rolled her eyes dramatically, frustration and exasperation written all over her face. Emma blinked, struggling to make sense of who this stranger was and what she was talking about.
"Oh, wait, I almost forgot!" The woman's pout shifted into a playful grin. "Cole mentioned you lost some memories after that accident when you got back to the country." She pouted again, this time more dramatically. "You must be so confused right now. Let me help!"
She clasped her hands together, then pointed at herself with flair. "I'm Melissa—your best friend and Cole's fiancée!"
Emma's expression barely shifted, just a slight furrow of her brows giving away her lack of enthusiasm.
Melissa huffed. "Oh, come on! Where's the dorky Emma I know?" Without waiting for a response, she reached out and pinched Emma's cheek lightly. "Snap out of it already!"
Melissa froze, her playful grin faltering as Emma's calm but sharp words hit her. "How about you snap out of it?" Emma said, her tone steady but edged with irritation. She let out a sigh, her headache pounding harder with every second of this strange encounter. "I'm trying to get some sleep, so please… Can you leave?"
Melissa blinked, her surprise evident. "Oh, uh… sure," she stammered, her cheerful demeanor faltering slightly. "You must still be feeling off from the fever. I'll let you rest. But don't think you're getting rid of me that easily!" She pointed a finger at Emma with a mock sternness before turning on her heel and heading toward the door.
Once Melissa was gone, Emma sighed heavily, letting her head fall back against the pillow. "Me getting into an accident?" she muttered, her fingers pressing into her temples as if that could somehow stop the whirlwind of thoughts in her mind. She turned her head to the right, staring blankly at the wall. "Losing my memories?"
The words felt foreign, ridiculous even. She tried to piece things together, but the gaps in the story only grew wider. "What kind of accident?" she whispered, her brows knitting in frustration. She tried to recall anything from the past two months, but her mind was completely blank. The only oddity she could cling to was last week—when Leon Gray had appeared on TV.
"Ah, that damn Leon Gray!" Emma suddenly sat upright, her frustration boiling over. "Where's my phone?" She scanned the room, her eyes darting around until they landed on a sleek pink phone resting on the side table beside her bed. Raising her eyebrows in confusion, she dragged herself toward it, reaching out lazily.
"Is this... mine?!" she exclaimed, startled the moment she unlocked the screen. Her own face stared back at her, set as the wallpaper. Her jaw dropped, and a chill ran down her spine as she held the phone at arm's length, unsure whether to laugh or scream.
She tilted her head right and left, scrutinizing the phone with suspicion. "This doesn't feel right," she mumbled, her fingers grazing the screen tentatively. Before she could think any further, the phone suddenly buzzed to life, ringing loudly in her hand.
"Ack!" Emma yelped, her grip loosening in sheer shock. Without thinking, she flung the phone across the room, watching as it landed with a dull thud on the plush carpet. Her heart pounded, and she clutched her chest.
"Ah! I hate this Leon Gray!" Emma fumed, scrambling off the bed. She hurried to retrieve the phone, her movements frantic as if it might vanish before she got to it. Picking it up from the carpet, her eyes locked onto the screen. There it was—his name, Leon Gray, glowing boldly as the ringtone persisted.
"What does he want this time?" she muttered through gritted teeth, her thumb hovering over the answer button. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she swiped to accept the call.
"Yes, what is it, Mr. CEO?"