After her meal, Elena was escorted back to her room by Nana.
"Tomorrow, I'll give you a tour of the house," Nana said with a knowing smile. Elena nearly tripped over her own feet when she heard that. "The entire house?"
Nana chuckled at her horrified expression. "No, child. Just the important places, for now."
Elena sighed in relief before smiling. "Good night, Nana."
"Good night, dear," Nana said before closing the door behind her.
Left alone, Elena changed into the pyjamas provided for her and sank into the impossibly soft bed. The events of the day replayed in her mind—most notably, him. That man was a walking contradiction.
One moment, he was smiling at her like she was something precious and then the next moment he's brooding with his whole aura becoming bitter and dangerous just like the way his cold aura filled the dining room, his gaze empty, detached, as if nothing in the world could move him.
Elena climbed up her bed with furrowed brows.
Was he sick? She had never met anyone whose moods shifted so easily and so drastically before. And yet, through it all, what stood out the most was his smile. Even with his scary self, his smile was still stuck in her mind, making her heart thump every time she thinks of it.
She closed her eyes, forcing herself to stop thinking of it and willing her heart to stop all the trouble. Sleep came slowly, her thoughts tangled in a web of confusion.
---
At the club, in the dimly lit office, Lorenzo pushed open the door to find Mateo hunched over a desk, reviewing some reports.
The moment Mateo saw him, he immediately stood, offering his seat without a word. He then picked up a cigar, lighting it before handing it to his boss. Lorenzo took a slow drag. The tension in his shoulders loosening, the sharp edges of his thoughts dulling just enough to keep his emotions in check.
Mateo watched him carefully before breaking the silence. "Why are you here?"
Lorenzo exhaled a plume of smoke, his expression darkening. "Can't I return to my own club?" His voice was sharp. "It's not as if I'm on a fucking honeymoon."
Mateo barely held back a smirk. Wasn't it a honeymoon, though? Lorenzo had fought, schemed, and manipulated to get Elena by his side, driven by a past filled with shared memories and unspoken promises. Yet now, he was here alone, drinking and smoking like a man haunted by something he couldn't name.
As if sensing his thoughts, Lorenzo shot him a dangerous glare. Mateo immediately straightened his posture along with his thoughts. A long silence stretching between them before Lorenzo finally spoke.
"During dinner, I realized something." His voice was low, edged with something unreadable. "All of Elena's favorite foods… the ones she used to love…" He paused. "She's allergic to them now."
Mateo's brows rose. "What?" He seems confused, trying to connect her loss of memory to this.
"She didn't just forget me," Lorenzo muttered, his fingers tightening around the cigar. "She forgot everything we shared. Even the things she once loved." His heart ached with the realization, a bitter reminder of the distance time had carved between them.
Mateo leaned against the desk, rubbing his chin. "And that's why you left her alone?" Lorenzo's gaze snapped to him, sharp and cold and Mateo sighed internally. His boss was impossible to understand.
One second, he was thrilled to have found Elena alive. The next, he was heartbroken that she had no memories of him. And now? Now he was acting indifferent, pushing her away when he had done everything to bring her back.
Mateo often wondered how anyone could deal with such unpredictability, feeling that most people would have given up on Lorenzo by now.
Finally, he spoke. "If you want her to remember you, shouldn't you at least try being nice to her? Maybe bring back old memories?"
Lorenzo said nothing. But his expression darkened as if the thought had struck something deep within him.
Mateo sighed, knowing there was no use pressing further. Whatever war Lorenzo was fighting within himself, it wasn't one he would share so easily.
---
In the dead of night, the mansion was silent. The kind of silence that stretched endlessly, untouched by the world outside and within the grand estate, hidden behind its countless hallways and secret passages, a single figure moved through the darkness.
Lorenzo stepped into an hidden entrance that leads to both his and Elena's room—a pathway so well concealed, Elena would never know it existed.
At least… not yet.
His movements were soundless as he approached her bed.
There she was, sleeping without a care in the world, her dark hair fanned across the silk pillow, her breathing soft and steady.
Lorenzo stood at the edge of the bed, his sharp eyes tracing every detail of her face. Although she had changed she was still his Elena.
The girl who once clung to him when they were younger. The girl who smiled at him like he was her whole world. The girl who once knew him well, who might have looked upon him with the love they once shared, if only she remembered. But now? She feared him and didn't know him.
Something inside him twisted painfully at the thought. Slowly and hesitantly, he reached out. His fingers brushing against her hair, pushing a stray strand behind her ear. She stirred slightly but didn't wake.
Lorenzo let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "Why don't you remember me?" His voice was barely above a whisper, filled with raw and aching emotions.
Elena didn't answer. Still, he stayed there, lingering longer than he should have. His gaze flickered to her lips. The temptation was strong, to lean down, to press his lips against hers and steal even a single moment of what they once had.
But he didn't. Instead, he closed his eyes, pressing a gentle kiss to her hair.
When he finally pulled away, his expression had shifted—hardened.
Without another sound, Lorenzo disappeared into the darkness, leaving no trace behind.