The dust motes danced in the sliver of afternoon light, but the air in the archives had turned frigid. Luca stepped closer, his shadow falling over the scattered deeds on the floor.
He looked around the cramped, silent room—a far cry from the marble halls Lili belonged in—and his jaw tightened with a fresh wave of guilt.
"Lili, I didn't just find you by accident," Luca whispered, reaching into his inner coat pocket. He pulled out a folded medical report, the paper crinkling in the silence. "I've been tracking the specialists my father hired after the crash. The ones who oversaw Leo's 'recovery' in the private wing."
Lili leaned heavily on her cane, her heart hammering a jagged rhythm against her ribs. "The doctors said it was the swelling, Luca. They said the trauma was too deep."
"That's what they told us," Luca countered, his eyes dark with a dangerous intensity. "But I found the pharmacy records. For two years, Leo hasn't just been taking vitamins and painkillers. He's been on a high-dosage regimen of a specialized beta-blocker and a synthetic neuro-suppressant. It's a drug used for severe PTSD—to help patients 'forget' traumatic events."
Lili's breath hitched. She sank slowly into her wooden chair, the wood groaning under her weight. "He's being drugged?"
"It's more surgical than that," Luca said, kneeling beside her chair so he was at eye level. "My father isn't just letting him forget; he's keeping him forgotten.
Every time Leo's brain tries to bridge the gap—every time he has a 'flashback' of you or the gala—the medication dulls the emotional response. It turns his memories into static. He doesn't remember you because his brain is physically being told that the memory is a threat."
Lili looked at her scarred hands, the reality of Luca's words sinking in like lead. She had spent two years mourning a man who was still alive, thinking he had simply moved on, when in reality, he was being held prisoner inside his own mind.
"He's a ghost in a suit, Lili," Luca continued, his voice cracking. "But he's starting to build a tolerance. He's been moody, distant. He stopped taking the 'sleep aids' two weeks ago, and that's when he started asking about the accident again. That's why my father is sending him here—to get him away from the city, away from the places that might trigger a breakthrough."
Lili looked at the "Vance Global" logo on the folder before her. The irony was a bitter pill. "And he's coming here. To the one place where I'm hiding."
"He arrives on Friday for the ribbon-cutting," Luca said, grabbing her hand. His palms were cold. "The security will be tight, but I'm the lead executive for this branch. I can get you into the private office before the ceremony. If he sees you—really sees you, without the drugs in his system for twenty-four hours—the wall might break."
The air in the South Harbor regional office was thick with the scent of saltwater and the hum of high-voltage industrial printers. Luca paced the narrow aisle of the archives, his polished leather shoes clicking against the concrete floor. He wasn't looking at the land deeds anymore; he was looking at Lili.
"It's the only way, Lili," Luca whispered, his voice low and urgent. "If you're just an archivist, my father will have you cleared from the building before Leo even steps off the private jet. But if you're his Personal Assistant, you're untouchable. You're the one holding his schedule, his phone, and most importantly... his medication."
Lili leaned against a tall filing cabinet, her fingers tracing the edge of her wooden cane. "And how do you propose I explain a two-year gap in my resume to Arthur Vance? He knows my face, Luca. He'll recognize me the moment I walk into the briefing room."
"Not if you aren't 'Lili' from the college dorms," Luca said, a slow, calculated smirk spreading across his face. "To the world, you're Elizabeth Reed, a top-tier corporate strategist I 'headhunted' from a rival firm in London. I've spent the last forty-eight hours scrubbing the digital trail. New passport, new credentials, and a look that screams 'Vance Executive,' not 'New Girl.'"
The heavy warehouse door creaked open, and a woman stepped into the dim light of the archives. She was striking—tall, with chestnut hair styled in a sophisticated bob and a warm, genuine smile that seemed to brighten the dusty room. She wore a tailored cream suit that cost more than Lili's entire wardrobe.
"Lili, I want you to meet someone," Luca said, his tone softening instantly. "This is Sophia. She's my girlfriend... and the only person my father actually listens to."
Sophia walked forward, her heels clicking softly. She didn't look at Lili with the cold judgment of the city elite. Instead, her eyes were filled with a deep, soulful empathy.
She reached out and took Lili's hand, her grip firm and comforting.
"I've heard everything, Lili," Sophia said, her voice like velvet. "What they did to you... what they're doing to Leo... it's a crime. Luca and I have talked about this for months. My father is a major shareholder in Logistics, and Arthur is obsessed with keeping our families tied together. He thinks I'm the 'perfect' match for the Vance image."
Lili looked at Sophia, surprised by her candor. "You're... you're helping us? Even if it means going against Arthur?"
"Arthur Vance loves power, but he loves legacy more," Sophia explained with a knowing tilt of her head. "He trusts me because I play the part of the perfect socialite. I'll be the one to 'vouch' for Elizabeth Reed. I'll tell him you're indispensable for the South Harbor transition. If I say you're the best, he won't question it—he'll just be glad he doesn't have to manage Leo's irritability himself."