7
I slowly opened my eyes, the scent of
sandalwood filling my nostrils. Sunlight
streamed through the ornate windows,
dappling the bed.
“Awake?” a cool voice said.
I turned; a man in a moon–white robe stood
beside the bed. His long fingers held a string
of prayer beads, his eyes distant and calm,
like a celestial being from a painting.
I stared at him, feeling like I’d seen him
somewhere before.
“Do you know me?” he leaned slightly, the
L
Do you NITOW_TTIC: ne itantu siyilly, we
beads clinking.
I nodded.
I vaguely remembered seeing him at a gala, the head of Peterson Corporation. Rumors said he was devout, donating millions to
temples annually, yet ruthless in business. “Mr. Peterson, the international conference…” his assistant whispered. Peterson didn’t even glance up. “You go in my place.” His voice was soft as snow, yet
undeniable.
Amidst the sandalwood scent, I drifted back
to sleep.
When I woke, a bowl of steaming yam and
pumpkin porridge sat on the table, with
several delicate side dishes.
The news was on TV, “Ethan Sherman, CEO
of Sherman Group, offers a million–dollar
reward for his missing wife.”
A sharp pain shot through my chest· I
Г
A sharp pain shot through my chest; |
clutched it, unable to understand why I felt
such sorrow.
A week later, Peterson arrived with a stack of
graphic novels.
I watched him make tea by the window, the
grace of his movements captivating.
“Peterson,” I leaned in. “You’re so nice to
me, do you like me?”
His hand paused, his ears instantly flushing
red. The man who struck fear into the hearts
of businessmen was flustered.
“You really don’t remember anything?” His
gaze was deep.
“I only remember you’re Peterson, very rich,”
I tilted my head. “And… you smell really
good.”
He chuckled, the sound like a mountain
stream flowing over smooth stones.
But in his eves. there was sadness. “You
suffered a trauma after your grandmother’s
death; you have amnesia.”
“You used to hate me,” he softly stroked the beads. “You even slapped me once.”
I stared, eyes wide. “Why? You’re so nice!” “Because…” he looked at me. “I’m Ethan’s
business rival, you were his wife. I took his
business, he fell ill, and you came to settle
the score.‘
وو
“But…” he paused. “You’re divorced now. He
hurt you terribly.”
I shrugged. “I was that unreasonable?”
Peterson laughed, tears welling in his eyes.
Sunlight glinted on his lashes, breathtakingly
beautiful.
“That Ethan was so mean to me, I don’t want
to like him,” I blurted. “You’re much better
looking, I guess I like you.”
The prayer beads clattered to the floor.
He leaned close. gently patting my head. His
warm breath brushed my face. “Good.”
“But…” he picked up the beads, his voice a sigh.
“When you regain your memory, don’t leave me.”
“I’ve been waiting… a long time…”
8
The following days, Peterson was even more
gentle. I’d always find him in the kitchen,
sleeves rolled up, making porridge.
“Mr. Peterson never cooks,” his assistant’s
glasses slipped down his nose.
Peterson silenced him with a glance. I saw his
ears redden subtly.
Under his care, my complexion improved day
by day.
One evening, as he tied his tie, I grabbed his
sleeve. “Do people usually bring their partners
to business dinners?”
His hand paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
^
“Yes.”
“Then take me!” I swung his arm. “I’m going
crazy staying home!”
“We might see Ethan,” he frowned.
“Just my ex,” I shrugged. “I’m not afraid of
him.
Peterson suddenly gripped my hand tightly,
making me gasp. He didn’t let go until we
were in the car.
The moment we entered the private room, the
noise died down.
“Mr. Peterson!” a young man exclaimed.
“This beautiful lady is…”
“Mine.” Peterson’s three words silenced the
room.
Another man’s eyes widened. “Wait, isn’t
that…
99
Before he could finish, Ethan stormed in. The
moment our eyes met, a sharp pain shot
through my chest
<
Ethan’s face paled, rushing to grab my hand.
“Lily!”
“Let go!” I gasped, struggling.
Peterson shielded me, his voice like ice.
“Ethan, she’s mine now.”
“Bullshit!” Ethan’s temples throbbed.
“Peterson! You even hid my wife?! That’s
kidnapping! I’ll call the cops!”
Voices urged them to stop fighting. Suddenly,
Ethan’s fist slammed into Peterson’s face.
Impulsively, I pushed Ethan away, slapping
him.
“Slap!”
The sharp sound silenced the room.
