The wind leaves a sound, but love leaves no trace.
“Nora, are you really leaving Lucas?”
In the hushed, wood-paneled study, Nora perched on the edge of a deep wingback chair, her fingers knotted tightly in her lap. She was silent for a long moment before giving a single, slow nod.
“Yes, Uncle. Lucas and I are finished.”
Her uncle released a weary sigh, but before he could speak, a cold, sharp voice cut through the room.
“Finished? The second I announce a wedding date with Kathleen, you run to my father to make a scene? Nora, aren’t you tired of these games?”
Before she could turn, Lucas was already striding into the room, his long legs eating up the distance with purpose.
His father, voice thick with regret, tried to intervene. “Lucas, Nora says she wishes to—”
“What does she wish for? To play the victim? Or to throw another tantrum?”
Lucas’s gaze pinned her, cold and disdainful.
“Kathleen wants you to personally oversee our wedding arrangements. Don’t mess it up.”
Nora clenched the fabric of her sleeves, fighting to keep her eyes dry. “Lucas, I don’t owe you a thing.”
“You don’t. But your mother did.”
A document landed in her lap.
She unfolded the yellowed pages and recognized it at once—her mother’s employment contract with the Lucas family, signed so many years ago.
A fifteen-year term. Her mother would be bound to the family as a live-in housekeeper. In return, the Lucases would provide Nora with the finest education and cover all living expenses for them both.
The service would end automatically upon expiry. Breach of contract carried a penalty so astronomical, she could never hope to repay it.
According to the dates, fifteen days remained.
“You’ll pay your mother’s debt.”
Lucas left those four light, dismissive words hanging in the air and turned to go.
His father, furious, slammed his teacown down. “Lucas! Do you have any idea what you’re asking? Forcing Nora to handle your wedding—it’s too cruel! You will regret this!”
Pausing at the doorway, Lucas let out a cold, quiet laugh. “Regret? I wouldn’t regret it even if she died.”
Then he was gone.
Watching that merciless figure retreat, the tears Nora had held back finally broke free, tracing hot paths down her cheeks.
He wouldn’t regret it even if she died?
Of course not. How could someone who’d lost all memory feel regret?
For over three hundred days and nights in this private hell, hadn’t she been the only one fighting a hopeless battle, suffering alone?
And yet, she could point to a lifetime of moments that proved his love had once been real.
At fourteen, when her drunken father set their home ablaze after a gambling loss, it was Lucas who rushed into the flames to pull her and her mother to safety.
At eighteen, when her mother passed without warning, it was Lucas who patiently guided her through the agony, becoming her only anchor.
At twenty, when the Lucas elders objected to their relationship over the gulf in their status, it was Lucas who knelt for three days, endured a brutal flogging, and silenced every critic. Even with his back torn and bleeding, he never let go of her hand. “So what if she’s a housekeeper’s daughter? She’s my choice. From now on, I am her shield.”
On the day he proposed at twenty-four, hearing her say “I do,” Lucas had wept like a child.
Even their first time, he had lost all control.
Nora had truly believed she was the Cinderella of her own fairy tale.
Until, a year ago, a car accident stole Lucas’s memories.
Lucas had crashed, lost too much blood. Without hesitation, Nora gave her own, nearly fainting from the donation.
The moment she heard he was awake, she rushed to his side, clutching his hand, her tears falling freely.
“Lucas, you’re awake! You scared me to death. I thought you were going to…”
Before she could finish, his hand suddenly pulled away.
“Who are you?”
His lips were dry, his gaze utterly and chillingly unfamiliar.
Nora froze, struck dumb.
He didn’t recognize her.
She refused to believe it.
She grabbed his hand again, her eyes desperate. “Lucas, it’s me. Nora… your fiancée, Nora.”
But he pulled away once more. This time, that unfamiliar stare held a hint of offended distaste.
“Don’t touch me. *This* is my fiancée. Kathleen.”
Lucas took another woman’s hand, their fingers lacing tightly. The look he gave Nora was pure disdain.
In that instant, she felt shattered—as if lightning had cleaved her in two.
Lucas had forgotten her. He’d even replaced her.
She explained patiently, presented every piece of evidence that proved their history.
He didn’t believe her. His unfamiliarity was terrifying.
She questioned, she sobbed, she pleaded… but the one person who held the answers remembered nothing.
The doctor called it a traumatic brain injury. Confusion, memory loss—even full amnesia—were expected. He needed rest, absolutely no stress or emotional shocks.
Recovery was in fate’s hands.
Even now, remembering that day seared a white-hot pain through her core.
Dragging her exhausted body from the study, she made her wa
Kelly was wheeled into the operating room.
As her consciousness began to fray, an icy hand clamped around her jaw, forcing that venomous face back into view.
"Just cut the skin from her face and feed it to the dogs."
That cold, vicious tone dragged Kelly back from the brink.
Kathleen’s arm had barely been scratched—nothing like the grave injury the doctors had described.
Digging her nails into her own thigh, Kelly fought to stay lucid. She forced out two ragged sentences. "Kathleen, I’m no threat to you anymore. Why won’t you let me go?"
"Let you go? And who would secure my future?"
Kathleen’s lips parted and closed, serpent-like.
"That face of yours is the threat, Kelly. This is your punishment for ignoring my warnings—for trying to get close to Ralph again."
"Begin. No anesthesia."
At the command, Kathleen pulled out her phone and started recording.
Kelly felt like a fish pinned to a cutting board, restrained and utterly helpless.
The scalpel bit into her face—a sharp, bone-deep agony that seized her whole body in violent tremors. She was torn, again and again, between wrenching clarity and drowning darkness.
The excruciating torture, a kind of slow dismemberment, only ended when she finally blacked out.
When she woke, Kelly found herself in a hospital bed.
Her face, swathed in bandages, was numb. The air smelled of antiseptic. Besides the cold, rhythmic beeping of monitors, she could hear hushed whispers from the nurses.
"People are truly unhinged these days. First, she fakes a sulfuric acid attack, then gets her face carved up without anesthesia. How can Miss Kathleen play so recklessly?"
"That’s nothing. Clearly, Mr. Ralph is backing her. But I know something even more shocking."
"Actually, this Miss Kelly is Mr. Ralph’s real fiancée. Back when Mr. Ralph was injured in that car accident, Miss Kathleen brought a psychologist into the operating room and tampered with his memories. From what I’ve heard, Mr. Ralph is still on special medication from that psychologist. Otherwise, how could he mistake his own fiancée for an enemy?"
"No wonder. Miss Kelly’s been unconscious for three days without a single visitor. Meanwhile, down in the VIP wing, Miss Kathleen’s room is overflowing with flowers and gifts—practically spilling into the hall. And Mr. Ralph hasn’t left her side, doting on her hand and foot. What a cruel twist of fate."
After a sigh of pity, the two left the room.
Their conversation echoed with perfect clarity in Kelly’s mind.
So Ralph had forgotten her completely… because Kathleen had made it happen.
Kelly’s blood ran cold. She ripped the IV needle from the back of her hand, stumbled out of bed, and staggered into the corridor.
Outside the premium suite, she saw Ralph. Before she could push the door open, Kathleen’s sharp question cut through the air.
"Ralph, if one day you discovered that you and Miss Kelly truly had a poignant past… would you regret being with me?"
Hearing this, Ralph immediately set down the fruit he was holding. He affectionately tapped Kathleen’s nose and took her hand. "Never. She’s just a maid’s daughter. However intense the past might have been, it doesn’t matter. She isn’t worth a single strand of your hair, my dear. My bride will only be you. From now on, I’ll handle all the wedding arrangements myself."
"Ralph, you’re so good to me. I love you so much."
As she spoke, Kathleen looped her arms around Ralph’s neck and pulled him close.
He surrendered almost instantly. Their silhouettes merged into an intimate, tangled embrace.
Every word was another knife twisting in Kelly’s heart.
She had wanted to storm in, to make a scene, to expose Kathleen’s crimes and wake Ralph up.
Now, she saw it was pointless.
They were from different worlds. Their paths had diverged for good.
