The Awakening

Two months later, in the VIP ward of Oxford City's most exclusive private hospital, the sterile white walls bore silent witness to the passage of time.

Emily had nearly lost her life for the two pints of blood extracted from her. The ordeal had plunged her into a chilling darkness, a void so deep she had doubted she would ever wake from it. Yet, against all odds, she had survived. Her body had been frail, her complexion ghostly pale, but the Scott family's immense wealth ensured she received the best care. They provided her with constant nourishment, restoring her strength day by day. Now, after two months, she was almost fully recovered.

But the man she had married, Damian Scott, remained unconscious.

Emily sat by his bedside, gazing at his still, handsome face. A soft, almost foolish smile tugged at her lips, her eyes brimming with unspoken emotions. The day their marriage was registered had been nothing more than a formality, a forced arrangement dictated by her mother's greed. Yet, when she had woken up the next morning and truly looked at him, something had shifted within her.

A whirlwind of emotions had consumed her—amazement, disbelief, an odd thrill that sent shivers down her spine. The very man who now lay before her had once been the center of admiration at her university.

Six months earlier…

Damian Scott, a renowned business magnate from Texas, had been invited to give a lecture at her university. The grand hall had been packed, every seat taken by students eager to hear him speak. After his lecture, many had surrounded him, seeking his attention, but Emily had remained in the back row, watching from afar, captivated yet unnoticed.

Just as she turned to leave, a deep, velvety voice had called out to her.

"Excuse me, you dropped your notebook."

Startled, she had turned around—only to find Damian standing before her, holding her book. His piercing gaze met hers as he extended it toward her.

"Your name is Emily? You have beautiful handwriting. I like it."

Those words had lingered in her mind ever since. And now, six months later, she sat beside that same man, watching over him day and night, unwilling to leave his side.

The thought of returning to her classes, of leaving him, filled her with an inexplicable sense of loss. Gathering her courage, she closed her eyes and leaned in, longing to plant a soft kiss on his lips.

Just as her lips were about to brush against his, his brows furrowed.

His eyelids fluttered. Then, suddenly, his eyes shot open.

Emily froze.

Damian's sharp gaze locked onto her. Confusion flickered in his dark eyes, quickly replaced by something much colder—displeasure.

With a sudden surge of strength, he pushed her away.

"Ah!" Emily gasped as she stumbled backward, crashing into the corner of the coffee table. A sharp jolt of pain shot through her lower back.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" Damian demanded, his voice rough but laced with authority. He propped himself up, his body still weak but his instincts razor-sharp. His eyes darted around the unfamiliar room before settling on Emily, who sat on the floor, pain flickering across her face.

"I…" Emily stammered, struggling to find her voice.

The door burst open, and a nurse rushed in, her face pale with alarm. "Mrs. Scott! What happened?"

Damian's gaze snapped to the nurse, his brows knitting together. "Who is she?" he asked coldly, his voice carrying an edge of warning.

The nurse hesitated. "She… she's your wife, sir."

Silence blanketed the room.

"My what?" Damian's voice turned sharp, his expression darkening with disbelief. His entire demeanor radiated hostility.

Emily's heart clenched. Her lips parted, but no words came.

Damian's jaw tightened as he swung his legs over the bed. "Where is my phone?" His patience was razor-thin.

"I… I don't know where it is," Emily said hesitantly. Her fingers trembled as she pulled out her own phone. "You can use mine."

Without hesitation, Damian snatched it from her grasp. His fingers moved swiftly over the screen, dialing a number from memory. The call connected almost instantly.

"Hello?" A soft, familiar voice answered.

Emily's breath hitched at the unmistakable tenderness in the other woman's tone.

"Melody, it's me." Damian's voice softened, stripped of its earlier edge.

The woman on the other end gasped. Then, a choked sob. "Damian? Is it really you?"

"Yes," Damian replied. "Where are you?"

"I'm home… at our house," Melody whispered.

Emily's fingers dug into her palms as a suffocating pressure built in her chest.

"Wait for me," Damian said firmly. Without another word, he ended the call and threw off the hospital blanket. He swung his legs off the bed, his body still weak but fueled by determination.

The nurse stepped forward, alarmed. "Mr. Scott, you mustn't move just yet—"

"Shut up," Damian snapped, his patience shattered. His gaze burned with a dangerous intensity. "Get out of my way."

Terrified, the nurse stepped back. Damian didn't spare another glance as he stormed toward the door, his steps unsteady but his will unwavering.

Emily scrambled to her feet. "Damian, my phone—"

CRASH!

Without breaking stride, Damian flung her phone against the wall, shattering it into pieces.

Emily stood frozen, staring at the broken fragments scattered across the floor.

Her heart shattered with them.