HELENA’S POV
As I stood before his looming silhouette in the doorway, I could feel the storm of feelings I thought I’d buried breaking free again. His bandaged head felt like a stark reminder of how much things had changed in the blink of an eye, of the memories that no longer bound us together.
He looked at me with that intense, dark gaze, though there was a glimmer of something different there. Something softer-an unfamiliar gentleness. “I thought I was never going to see you again,” he said, voice low, as though he’d been holding onto those words for some time.
I stiffened, crossing my arms to shield myself, hoping he couldn’t see how just the sound of his voice chipped away at my defenses. Part of me wanted to bite back, to ask how he could say that when he couldn’t even remember me. But I knew it was pointless. His amnesia wasn’t going to vanish with a few sharp words.
“You thought you could get rid of me that easily, huh?” I countered, forcing a casual tone but it felt fake, I could feel the awkwardness seeping through and enveloping us.
Dante chuckled-a sound I hadn’t realized I’d missed so desperately. The sound filled the empty halls, seeped into the empty spaces in my heart. The kind of laughter that used to make me want to kiss him or hit him, depending on the day. But now, it just made me ache with the knowledge that he was right there, so close I could reach out and touch him, yet further from me than he’d ever been.
Just as I thought I might be able to collect myself, his eyes darkened, and he took a step closer. There was a dangerous gleam in his gaze, a glint that used to thrill me-and still did, damn it all. The wall met my back, and his hand pressed against the wall beside my head, trapping me with a silent command.
“So, is there a reason why you broke into my home?” His voice was laced with accusation. “How did you bypass the security?”
I swallowed, trying to calm the frantic pounding of my heart. How could I explain that I still had the passcode, that I used to live here and that we used to be married without sounding awkward and more like a liar? My mouth opened and closed, words stuttering as I tried to find something that wouldn’t sound insane. “I… I-”
No words came through
He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not going to ask again, Elena.”
“Helena,” I corrected, barely a whisper, but he heard me.
“What?”
“My name is Helena, not Elena.” I said it louder this time, meeting his gaze with a defiance I hadn’t felt in weeks. I could see confusion flit across his face, a flicker of something like recognition… only for it to disappear just as quickly, leaving only the blankness I had come to dread.
“You’re Antonio’s daughter, aren’t you? Did your father send you?” he asked, stepping back. The words hurt, slicing through me like a blade, but I managed to keep my face impassive.
Before I could reply, Gianna’s voice interrupted us. “Who’s that you’re talking to, Dante?” She strolled into the entryway, her expression morphing from mild curiosity to disdain the moment her gaze landed on me. “Oh. You.”
I didn’t flinch, meeting her glare with one of my own. “Are you living here now?” I asked, unable to stop the bitterness that crept into my voice.
She shrugged, clearly indifferent. “What does it matter to you?”
It was a petty question, but the truth was, it did matter. It mattered too much, even now, when it shouldn’t. “You know what, I don’t care,” I said, trying to sound unaffected. “I’m just here to-”
“I know what you’re here for,” Gianna cut me off with a mocking smile. “I already sent them over. Your mother called.” She was carefully choosing her words.
I blinked, caught off guard. “My mother?”
She tilted her head, her smile widening with a cruel edge. “Yes” she didn’t look like she was ready to divulge more information. She linked her hands with Dante’s, then resting her head on his chest and I could see his hands playing above her hair, my chest tightened but I managed to keep my emotions in check.
Her words lingered, filling the silence, and I could see the satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. Why didn’t my mother say anything about this when I told her I’d be coming here? Or had she already known? I felt foolish, standing there with my heart on display, so I forced a nod, swallowing back the swell of anger and hurt.
I turned to leave, but Dante’s voice stopped me cold. “My regards to Antonio,” he said, so offhandedly it felt like a slap.
My heart clenched, an ache spreading through my chest that I fought to keep off my face. I turned back to face him, lifting my chin as I met his gaze. “My father is dead.”
There was a pause, just a heartbeat, but in that silence, I saw the shock in his eyes. His hand fell to his side, and for a moment, I thought I saw something flicker, a spark that might light a fire of recognition.
I wanted to hold unto it, to press further but I let it go after all I couldn’t waste another ticket to Paris