Chapter 3

I had sex with Alex the night I had a 103-degree fever.

Not my finest moment, honestly.

I'd worked an eight-hour shift at the coffee shop, then four hours at the theater, then walked twenty minutes home through the snow because the subway broke down. Again.

When I stumbled through the door, I was shaking so hard my keys clattered to the floor.

"Chloe?" Alex jumped up from the bed. "You're late. I was worried—"

His hand touched my forehead. He jerked back like I'd burned him.

"Shit! You're burning up!"

"I'm fine..." I tried to say, but the room tilted sideways and everything went black.

I woke up in bed with Alex sitting beside me, pressing a cold towel to my face. His bandaged eyes were turned toward me, his jaw tight with worry.

"How long was I out?" My throat felt like sandpaper.

"Twenty minutes. I almost called 911."

"I have to work tomorrow—" I tried to sit up.

"Fuck the bills!" He actually yelled. First time I'd ever heard him raise his voice. "Your life is more important than money!"

I stared at him, shocked.

He took a shaky breath. "I'm sorry. I just... I can't lose you."

Something in his voice made my chest ache. I grabbed his hand and pressed it to my cheek. "You won't lose me. I promise."

His fingers traced my face slowly, like he was memorizing every detail. "Chloe, I need to tell you something."

"What?"

"My memory's coming back. Just pieces, but..." He swallowed hard. "I see flashes. Boardrooms. Business deals. My father's cold eyes. A woman who might be my stepmother. I think... I was someone important. Someone dangerous."

My heart clenched. "That doesn't matter. You're just Alex to me."

"What if the real me is an asshole?"

"Then I'll knock some sense into you." I managed a weak smile. "I'm scarier than I look."

He finally smiled, pulling me against his chest. "Yeah, you are."

The fever got worse after midnight. I started mumbling, half-asleep, half-delirious.

"Mom... don't leave me..."

"I'm so tired... I can't do this anymore..."

"Alex... if you leave too... I'll be all alone again..."

I felt him stiffen beside me. His arms tightened around me.

"I'll never leave," he whispered, kissing my forehead. "I swear on my life."

"Liar," I mumbled. "Everyone leaves..."

"I won't. I'm yours, Chloe. Completely yours."

I forced my eyes open. Everything was blurry, but I could see his face hovering over mine, full of emotion I'd never seen before.

"Prove it," I heard myself say.

"What?"

"Prove you won't leave." My hands grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer.

"Chloe, you're sick. You don't know what you're—"

I kissed him. Hard. Desperate.

He froze for a second, then kissed me back with the same desperation. His hands cupped my face like I was something precious.

"This is wrong," he gasped between kisses. "You'll regret—"

"The only thing I'll regret," I bit his lower lip, "is if you stop."

That broke him.

His hands were shaking as they slipped under my shirt. Every touch was careful, questioning, like he was asking permission with his fingertips.

"Tell me if it hurts," he whispered against my neck. "I can't see your face. You have to tell me."

"I will," I promised, guiding his hand where I wanted it.

He was so bad at it. Fumbling, uncertain, clearly inexperienced. At one point he accidentally elbowed me in the ribs.

"Ow!"

"Shit, sorry!" His face turned bright red. "I don't think I've... done this before..."

Despite everything, I laughed. "You're a virgin?"

"Apparently?" He looked embarrassed. "Is that weird?"

"It's adorable." I pulled him back down. "We'll figure it out together."

We did. Slowly. Awkwardly. But somehow it was perfect because it was real. No performance, no expectations. Just two broken people trying to be whole together.

Afterward, he held me like I might disappear.

"Chloe," he said softly. "I think I just fell in love with you."

My heart stopped. "You think?"

"No." He kissed my forehead. "I know. I love you."

I woke up the next morning with the fever gone and a massive wave of embarrassment crashing over me.

Oh my God. We had sex. I had sex with a blind amnesiac billionaire in my shitty Brooklyn apartment.

What was my life?

I could hear Alex in the kitchen, humming while he made breakfast. I tiptoed over, wrapped in a blanket.

"About last night..."

He turned around with the biggest smirk I'd ever seen. "You took my virginity. You have to take responsibility."

My face exploded. "WHAT?! That's not how it works!"

"In my world it is." He was fighting back laughter. "You deflowered me. Now you have to marry me."

I grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. "Shut up!"

He caught it easily—his hearing was that good—and walked toward me, trapping me against the kitchen counter.

"I'm serious," he said, his voice dropping low. "I'm yours now."

"Stop saying things like that..."

"Why?" He leaned closer. "Because it makes you nervous?"

"Because..." I could barely breathe. "Because I might believe you."

"Good." He found my lips without hesitation. "Believe me."

I was cleaning up later when I found it—an iPhone wedged between the couch cushions. The screen was cracked but it still worked.

My finger hovered over the power button. I shouldn't. This was invasion of privacy. But...

I turned it on.

Dozens of messages flooded the screen:

[Alex, where are you?!]

[The board is panicking. You need to come back.]

[Your father is using your death to seize control. Fight back!]

The latest one, from someone named Victoria A.: [I know you're alive. We need to talk. It's about the company and... us.]

My stomach dropped.

Us?

I put the phone back exactly where I found it, hands shaking.

That night, Alex pulled me close in bed. "Chloe," he murmured against my hair. "If I remember who I was... promise me you won't leave."

"Why would I leave?"

"Because I have a feeling the real me is someone you won't like."

I held him tighter. "I'll love you no matter who you are."

He didn't answer. Just held me like he was afraid I'd vanish.

I dreamed Alex got his sight back. He looked at my face and said, "You're not what I expected."

Then he walked away toward a beautiful woman—Victoria—and I couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't follow.

I woke up crying, my pillow soaked with tears.

Alex was still asleep beside me, his arm wrapped around my waist.

I looked at his face in the dim light from the skylight and felt a cold fear settle in my chest.

What if one day he really did leave?

And I'd have nothing left but this stupid twin bed and the memory of how his hands felt in the dark?