The memory of us
Chapter 1
The night was supposed to be a celebration. Champagne flutes clinked under the glow of London's skyline, laughter echoed across the rooftop, and Adrian Cole had never looked more alive.
At thirty-one, he was the name whispered in boardrooms and printed on glossy magazine covers - the man who turned legacy into empire. But as his driver took the winding road down from the party, the rain came harder, and the flashing city lights became a blur against the glass.
Adrian leaned back, his phone vibrating endlessly - messages from investors, friends, and one woman he couldn't quite bring himself to reply to. He smiled faintly, that familiar self-assured grin that hid exhaustion. He'd built his life on motion - meetings, mergers, millions - but in that fleeting second when his phone slipped from his hand and he bent to pick it up, everything changed.
The screech of tires. A flash of blinding light. Metal twisting, glass shattering, a sound that tore through the night. Then, nothing.
When Adrian opened his eyes again ,three days later , the world was white. Too white. The ceiling, the sheets, the faint humming of a machine beside him - sterile, still, unreal. His throat was dry, and his head throbbed like it was filled with fog.
He tried to sit up, but a hand pressed gently against his chest. "Easy there," a man's voice said, calm and practiced. "You've been through quite a lot, Mr. Cole." Adrian blinked, trying to focus on the face hovering above him - an older man in a white coat. A doctor, obviously. But Mr. Cole? The name sounded... distant. The door opened again, and two figures stepped in. A man and a woman - elegant, expensively dressed, both wearing the kind of expression that looked too strained to be casual.
"Adrian..." the woman breathed, tears shining in her eyes. She reached for his hand. "Darling, it's Mum." He stared.
Mum? "I-I'm sorry," Adrian said, his voice rough.
"Do I know you?"
The silence that followed could have broken glass. Richard Cole froze mid-step, his knuckles tightening around the edge of the bed. Evelyn's tears slipped down her cheek, and the doctor exchanged a worried glance with the nurse beside him.
"You don't... remember us?" Richard asked, voice thick, disbelief shadowing his face. Adrian shook his head slowly.
"I don't remember anything." The weight of that sentence hit the room like a storm.
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