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Ruined Secrets: Prologue

Isabella

Present
(Isabella 19 y.o.)
They shaved his hair.
I don’t know why that detail hits me so hard.
Reaching for my husband’s hand, I entwine our fingers and drop my forehead onto the mattress. I don’t know what I hate more—the hospital smell, the beep of the machine next to the bed tracking his heartbeat, or how still he is.
Minutes pass. Maybe hours, I’m not sure.
I almost miss it—the tiny twitch of his fingers in my own. My head snaps up, and I find two dark brown eyes watching me.
“Oh, Luca . . .” I choke out, then lean over him and place a light, quick kiss on his lips.
He doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking at me, probably wondering how I dared to kiss him, but I don’t care. I was so scared for him, and I needed the stolen kiss to assure myself that he’s alive.
I let go of his hand, sit up straighter in the chair, and wait for him to start giving me an earful. When he speaks, his voice is rough and deep, even deeper than usual, and the words that leave his mouth make me go ice-cold.
“Who are you?”
I stare at him.
Luca cocks his head to the side, regarding me with his intense, calculating gaze. I’m very familiar with this expression, because I’m usually on the receiving end of it when he’s not happy with something I’ve done. But there is one huge difference this time. It’s his eyes. The same eyes that I’ve hoped for so long would look at me with love instead of indifference. They are gazing at me now without a sliver of recognition.
“I’m Isabella,” I whisper. “Your . . . wife.”
He blinks, then looks away at the window on the other side of the room and takes a deep breath.
“So, Isabella,” he says and turns to me. “Care to tell me who I am?

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