CHAPTER 3:THE AWAKENING

The following morning, Kristin was jolted awake by a knock at her door. She hadn’t slept well, her thoughts spinning through the dark. She wasn’t used to this life—the cold mansion, this strange arrangement she was trapped in.

Mrs. Delacroix entered, her heels clicking against the marble floor as she carried a thick book in her hands.

"Good morning, Miss Shaw," she said in her clipped, no-nonsense tone. "Mrs. Moretti asked me to deliver this." She handed the book to Kristin without another word. Kristin opened it to see a detailed guide on how to massage Lucas’s legs. The instructions were precise, clinical, as if this were simply another task on a long list of duties she now had to perform.

"You're to follow the instructions carefully," Mrs. Delacroix added. "It will help improve his circulation."

Kristin nodded, still too stunned by the entire situation to speak. The housekeeper left without another word, the door closing softly behind her.

Kristin stared at the book, her hands trembling slightly. She didn’t know what to expect from this—massaging a stranger's legs felt so intimate, so foreign. But there was no way out of it. She had to do it. It was part of her duty.

Later that morning, Kristin found herself in Lucas’s room again. She had followed the instructions in the book, gently kneading his legs with slow, deliberate movements. His body was cold, lifeless under her touch, but she couldn’t help the strange feeling that crept over her. It wasn’t just the physical act of massaging him—it was the way his stillness seemed to demand something more.

As her fingers worked across the muscles of his leg, Kristin’s mind wandered. She hadn’t expected to feel this way, but there was something about him, something magnetic. The thought that this man—this incredibly handsome stranger—was lying in a coma, unable to feel or respond, made her chest tighten. She couldn’t help but glance up at his face, marveling at the sharp angles of his jaw, the dark, thick lashes that framed his eyes.

For a moment, the room seemed to fade away. She was alone with him, the air between them thick with unspoken tension. The impulse hit her before she could stop it—a sudden urge to kiss him. She leaned forward slowly, unsure of herself, but drawn to him all the same.

Her lips brushed against his, soft and tentative. But the moment they touched, she felt a jolt, like an electric charge running through her veins. His lips were warm, perfect. She closed her eyes, her pulse quickening, her heart hammering in her chest.

Before she could pull away, the sound of the machines around Lucas suddenly erupted—beeping loudly, erratically. Kristin’s eyes snapped open, her breath catching in her throat. The sudden noise filled the room, sending panic through her.

She jumped back, almost knocking over the chair beside the bed. Her hand hovered over the phone as she reached to call Mrs. Moretti, but before she could press the buttons, she felt a sudden, firm grip on her wrist.

Kristin gasped, her heart leaping in her chest. She turned slowly to face Lucas, her eyes wide in disbelief. His hand, though weak, was holding hers. His fingers tightened slightly, a flicker of life in them.

His eyes were still closed, but his lips moved, a faint sound escaping.

"Kristin..." he whispered, barely audible.

A chill ran down Kristin’s spine. How did he know her name? She hadn’t even spoken it aloud since she arrived. Her throat tightened as she struggled to make sense of what was happening.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. Mrs. Moretti appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock. "Lucas?" she gasped, her voice trembling. She rushed over to his side, frantically checking the monitors. The beeping slowly began to stabilize, but the room was thick with tension.

Lucas’s eyelids fluttered. Slowly, agonizingly, they opened. His eyes, though clouded and unfocused, locked onto Kristin. His grip on her hand tightened.

"Kristin," he said again, his voice hoarse, like he hadn’t used it in ages. He blinked, as if trying to make sense of her presence.

Mrs. Moretti stood frozen, her face a mask of disbelief. She turned toward Kristin, then back to Lucas, her eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and something else—something Kristin couldn’t place.

"Lucas," Mrs. Moretti said, her voice softer now, her expression changing. "You’re awake. We—" She paused, clearly shaken. "You’re awake."

Lucas’s gaze shifted to Mrs. Moretti, his lips parting as though he was about to speak again, but then he seemed to lose focus. His grip on Kristin’s hand slackened, and for a moment, it seemed like he might fall back into unconsciousness.

But before Kristin could react, his eyes flashed back to hers.

"Who are you?" His voice was barely a whisper, but it hit Kristin like a thunderclap.

She froze, unable to respond. She wanted to say something—anything—to explain why she was there, why she was holding his hand. But the words stuck in her throat.

Mrs. Moretti stepped forward, her voice smooth and controlled now. "Lucas, this is Kristin Shaw," she said, her tone as calculating as ever. "She’s your fiancée."

Kristin’s heart raced as Lucas’s eyes flicked between her and Mrs. Moretti. His confusion was clear. He didn’t remember her. And why would he? She was a stranger to him, too, just a pawn in a game she hadn’t chosen.