Chapter 24
“Wesley, it’s me,” I whispered, my voice on the verge of breaking. For a moment, I feared he was lost to me.
He gazed at me, a deep confusion etched in his features. “I don’t remember everything” he confessed, his voice gentle yet strained. “Your face is familiar, but recalling it is like trying to catch water–it slips away.”
Tears clouded my eyes as I clung to his hands. “It’s alright, I assured him, forcing a smile. “What matters is that you’re here now.”
The doctors had insisted Wesley remain at the hospital for further observation. The yacht accident had left him with partial amnesia, and they needed to monitor his
recovery.
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knowing.”
“It will come back,” I reassured him, placing my hand over his. “We’ll face this together.”
Thaddeus visited frequently, also grappling with the enigma of how he and Wesley had been separated.
“It must have been a family matter,” Thaddeus suggested one evening as we sat in the hospital room. “Perhaps our parents couldn’t keep us both, or something happened. I grew up in an orphanage, never knowing I had a twin.”
Wesley nodded, his gaze distant. “I’ll solve it in time. But right now, my focus is on regaining my life with Iris–and us.”
While Wesley worked to restore his memories, the chaos surrounding Delilah
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continued to intensify.
She was imprisoned, yet without Wesley’s complete recollection or solid evidence, the trial stood at an impasse. Reports from the jail painted a picture of her unraveling, her mental state rapidly deteriorating.
Wesley’s frustration was palpable.
One night, he broached the subject of the baby.
“Iris,” he began, his voice quivering. “I heard… about the baby. That you lost it.”
I swallowed hard, the ache in my chest reawakening. “Yes,” I replied softly.
His jaw clenched, guilt shadowing his expression. “It’s my fault,” he murmured. “If I hadn’t gone after Delilah, if I had just-”
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“Stop,” I interjected, gripping his hand. “It’s not your fault, Wesley. What’s important is that you’re here. The past is unchangeable, but we can move forward. Together.”
He nodded, though the guilt lingered in his
eyes.
A week later, everything shifted.
A package arrived at the hospital, addressed to me. Inside was a cassette tape and a letter from Quentin.
I hesitated, my fingers trembling as I unfolded the paper.
Iris,
I know I can never make up for what I’ve done, but I want you to have this. Consider
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it my way of helping you get the justice you deserve.
The tape contains Delilah’s plans- everything she did to you and Wesley. The mall, the accident, even her plot to harm your baby. She orchestrated it all.
I hope you’ll find closure in this and maybe, one day, forgive me.
-Quentin
Tears brimmed in my eyes as I read his words. For the first time, I felt something other than anger toward him.
The tape exposed Delilah’s full confession, her voice cold and calculated as she detailed every aspect of her schemes. Hearing it was chilling, but it was the evidence we desperately needed.
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With this, the trial finally advanced.
I wrote back to Quentin, expressing my gratitude. For the first time, I forgave him.
Delilah was found guilty on all charges and
in prison. No more threats,
sentenced to life
no more chaos.
Meanwhile, Wesley was making strides.
After weeks of therapy and constant reminders, fragments of his memories began to return.
One afternoon, as we sat in the hospital garden, he looked at me with a flicker of recognition.
A few days later, during a therapy session, more pieces clicked into place.
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“I was following someone,” he said, his brows knitting as he focused intently. “On the yacht. Delilah. I was trying to catch up to her.”
“That’s right, I encouraged, nodding.
“And then…” He paused, his eyes distant. “The crash. I hit something, and I remember falling into the water.”
“You’re remembering,” I said, my voice thick with hope.
He nodded slowly, his hand reaching out to cover mine. “And I remember you. I remember loving you, Iris.”
