Chapter eighty three

Alex had been plagued by dreams that felt all too real. Each night, he found himself in a dimly lit room, the air thick with sorrow, where a strange woman sat on the floor, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Her dark hair fell over her face as she looked up at him with desperate eyes, begging him not to leave her. In those dreams, he recognized her as the girl he had met at the hospital weeks ago—Sophia. But his family had been adamant that she wasn't who she claimed to be; they insisted she wasn't his wife.

Despite their reassurances, Alex couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to this woman. He spent the day at work, his mind racing with thoughts of her and the constant dreams. 

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as he sat at his desk, tapping his pen against a stack of papers. With every tick of the clock, his frustration grew. Finally, he decided to call in his assistant, Rachel.