Chapter12
Julian Lancaster had fallen off a cliff.
He was rushed to the hospital and barely pulled back from the brink of death.
But even the doctors were puzzled.
All his vitals showed he was stable.
His brain activity was unusually active, nothing like what you’d expect from someone in a coma. And yet, he hadn’t regained consciousness.
When Mr. and Mrs. Lancaster arrived at the hospital and saw their unmoving son lying in the hospital bed, they couldn’t hold back their anger.
They turned on Bianca Sterling, who had been keeping vigil by his side.
“I knew you were nothing but trouble! He was completely lost in you!” Mr. Lancaster snapped.
“If we had just listened to Charlotte and hired a specialist to restore his memory, we never would’ve brought you back into this family! None of this would’ve happened!”
They slumped into the chairs beside the bed, their voices thick with regret. “Julian was never like
this when he was with Charlotte… We should’ve listened to her…”
Charlotte…
That name echoed through Julian’s mind, dull and familiar.
And suddenly, a chubby little face surfaced in his memory.
A woman once pushed a tiny girl forward and smiled warmly as she introduced her. “This is my
daughter, Charlotte Wynn. Same surname as the CEO Mr. Wynn.”
“Charlotte, say hi.”
“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” the little girl chirped sweetly in a singsong voice.
Young Julian wrinkled his nose in secret, but his parents were already beaming and asking her to
try the cake on the table.
He quickly pulled the cake into his arms, glaring at her stubby legs.
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“Julian! Don’t be rude! Share some dessert with your little sister!”
The girl blinked up at him and called him Julian big brother in that same sugary tone.
Did she really think that’d win him over?
But those dimples when she smiled were pretty charming… so he begrudgingly gave her the tiniest
piece.
And just like that, her big brother Julian sounded even sweeter.
“You’re named Charlotte Wynn?”
“Yes,” little Charlotte had said.
Back then, she didn’t even know how to write her name.
Later, Julian found out that wasn’t what her name meant at all.
She really was kind of dumb.
But on her eighteenth birthday, he still had a whole garden of flowers transplanted just for her.
Clusters of white blossoms bloomed across the courtyard like fluttering butterflies.
He had taken her hand as she twirled in a new dress, cheeks flushed red as cherries, and posed for
their traditional photo beside the Wisteria Swing.
Clutching the photo later, his palms slightly damp, he’d tried to sound casual. “Once we’ve taken twenty of these… you’ll have to marry me.
“Huh?” Charlotte paused mid–spin, clearly baffled.
“You kissed me when we were little! You think I’m gonna let you marry someone else?!”
What he didn’t say was that he had been the one to lean in first, craving the whipped cream on the
corner of her lips.
She just laughed, her eyes crinkling into half–moons. “Well then… I guess I’ve got to take responsibility.”
In that moment, Julian felt like his heart would beat out of his chest.
The Wisteria was in full bloom, mingling with the white ginger blossoms. It felt like the sweetest
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dream of his youth.
But later…
The memory suddenly shifted.
The Lancaster estate after the fire, partially rebuilt.
The Hydrangea shrub sat quietly under the dark night sky.
Where was the Wisteria Swing?
Confused, Julian climbed the stairs and stopped in front of Charlotte’s bedroom door.
His lips curled into a smile.
It was past midnight, she must be asleep.
He didn’t want to wake her.
He turned toward his own room and opened the door.
Everything inside was exactly how he remembered it.
Until it wasn’t.
The drawings they’d doodled together, the award certificates they’d won side by side, the candy wrappers he’d saved because she’d given them to him, even the photo tied to their engagement
promise,
Gone.
Completely gone.
He jerked his head up and spotted the hand–carved wooden doll they’d brought back from the Willow Tribe Village still sitting on the bookshelf.
A small wave of relief passed through him.
Then, out of nowhere, the doll burst into flames.
Julian lunged forward, gripping it in his hand and desperately trying to put out the fire. But all he
could do was watch as it turned to ash.
Flames spread across the villa once more, devouring everything that had already been blackened
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and burnt.
That’s when he finally realized,
Wait. When had the villa ever caught fire?
The ash scorched his palm, and the heat seared through his skin.
Then, out of nowhere, a stabbing pain exploded in his back, so intense he couldn’t straighten up. He nearly vomited from it.
In that blinding agony, it all came rushing back,
The wound on his back was from saving Bianca, shielding her from a burning beam.
The Wisteria Swing?
He’d personally ordered it torn down and replaced with a Hydrangea shrub.
And all those photos, that doll, everything tied to Charlotte?
He was the one who had burned them.
He used to treasure them so much, kept them in plain sight.
Which was why, after losing his memory, they’d been easy to find.
So he torched them all.
Every last piece.
Even in that same fire, he remembered it now, he’d wrapped his hands around Charlotte’s neck.
“Charlotte…”
He tried to pull away the hands choking her, but they wouldn’t budge.
“Charlotte…”
Don’t be sad. I remember now.
“Charlotte!”
In the sterile hospital room, Julian Lancaster’s eyes flew open.
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His sudden cry shattered the silence.
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