Chapter 2
I wanted to leave with her, but she quickly locked the car door behind me, letting out a huff. “You’d better stay here. If your memory comes back and you end up crying your heart out and running back to Julian, I don’t want to be the bad guy who stopped you.”
It was clear from her wary expression that my love-obsessed antics over the years had traumatized her more than a little, leaving her with a massive mental scar.
I stood in the driveway, watching her car disappear into the distance. Then, I frowned and stepped into the massive villa.
The house was enormous, empty, and unfamiliar.
But when I saw the wall covered in rows of wedding photos, I knew I was in the right place.
An older woman who looked like a housekeeper approached and took my luggage. “Miss White, Mr. Moore is away on a business trip today and won’t be coming home. You don’t need to wait for him to have dinner.”
I nodded and headed upstairs without a word.
The housekeeper froze in surprise. “Miss White, aren’t you going to ask why Mr. Moore isn’t coming back?”
Confused, I replied, “Didn’t you just say he’s on a business trip?”
She gave me a peculiar look. “Yes… that’s what I said. But you’ve never believed that before.”
Feeling annoyed, I waved her off. “If he’s not coming back, don’t bother cooking for him. I’m going upstairs.”
I turned and climbed the stairs, leaving the housekeeper muttering behind me, “Strange… she’s acting like a completely different person.”
…
Once in the bedroom, I quickly took a shower.
Even though the hospital had good food and care, bathing was a hassle, especially for someone like me, who’s a bit of a germaphobe.
The warm water in the bathtub eased every muscle in my body, helping me relax.
After three days of Dolly’s relentless “crash course,” I finally understood the situation.
I was married.
And not just to anyone—I had been married for five years to Julian, the cold-hearted campus idol I had met in my sophomore year at Riverdale University.
According to Dolly’s version of events, I had been entangled with Julian for a total of seven years.
But my memories were still stuck in the past, back when I was the proud and untouchable heiress of the White family during my freshman year.
In my memories, I was young, beautiful, and privileged. I grew up with every luxury imaginable, and the line of suitors chasing after me could stretch from Riverdale’s Central Tower to the West Coast.
As Dolly put it, even the strands of my hair seemed to shimmer with the glow of a wealthy heiress.
But everything changed during my sophomore year when I joined the drama club and met Julian, who had come to guest star in a performance. The moment I saw him, I transformed into a humble, desperate admirer at the feet of his tailored trousers.
Throughout my college years, I became a walking manual for how to be a hopeless romantic.
There was no level of fawning I couldn’t imagine, and no act too low for me to perform.
Dolly described it as if I had been cursed. Knowing full well that Julian had a childhood sweetheart by his side, I still shamelessly threw myself into the role of a third party, ignoring all the accusations hurled at me.
Under my relentless and brazen pursuit, the untouchable Julian finally accepted my proposal just before his graduation in senior year.
Yes, I indeed proposed to him!
Afterward, we had a flash wedding. There was no grand ceremony, no lavish banquet, just a quick photo shoot to commemorate the occasion before I eagerly embraced my new identity as Mrs. Moore.
Once we were married, Julian threw himself into saving his family’s struggling company, pouring all his energy into his work.
At first, I acted like a reasonable wife.
But when I realized he didn’t love me and saw endless traces of his so-called childhood sweetheart woven into our lives, I started to fall apart.
I spiraled into fits of desperation, trying every possible way to track Julian’s movements around the clock.
I even went as far as hiring a private investigator to dig into every detail of Julian’s life abroad with his so-called childhood sweetheart.
After investing heavily in the investigation, I uncovered the truth about their breakup. To my devastation, I realized I had been nothing more than a pawn in Julian’s plan to save his family’s business.
He didn’t love me, yet after we got married, he shamelessly took control of the shares and funds from my family’s White Corporation.
Thanks to my investment, Moore Group managed to turn things around, but the White Corporation suffered massive losses as a result.
My father was so furious about the situation that he suffered a stroke and ended up hospitalized. My fragile mother pushed herself to the brink and developed a heart condition. Even my older brother, who had always doted on me, slapped me for the first time in my life.
I had become a complete laughingstock in Riverdale’s social circles, notorious for my blind devotion to my husband.
Without the White family’s support, I spiraled further into insecurity and madness.
But my hysterical outbursts didn’t elicit guilt from Julian. Instead, they only fueled his disdain and pushed him further away from me.
Meanwhile, his childhood sweetheart, so far away yet so present, continued to maintain her delicate, artsy persona.
Her tranquil, graceful life only served to highlight the chaos of my love for Julian. Her talent and growing accomplishments stood in sharp contrast to my ignorance and vulgarity.
She was the untouchable goddess of poetry and art, while I was the unhinged, crass Mrs. Moore.
Given the choice, anyone—unless they were blind—would choose her over me.
But everyone seemed to forget that I was once the most talented debutante in Riverdale.
I had earned the top spot in academic rankings and secured my place at Riverdale University with sheer determination and brilliance.
Yet I loved Julian so deeply that I forgot myself entirely. And she, living in a distant country, quietly basked in the unwavering affection he reserved for her.
Everything came to a breaking point after yet another heated argument with Julian over something trivial. Frustrated and desperate, I threatened to end my life.
Julian, long exhausted by my theatrics, simply turned and walked away.
In utter despair, I jumped from the second floor.
I didn’t die, but I hit my head in the fall.
…
After reviewing everything, I shivered.
The water in the bathtub had gone cold, so I quickly stood up, dried myself off, and wrapped a towel around my body.
The face staring back at me in the mirror was pale and haggard, with an unnatural flush on the cheeks. My body was alarmingly thin, like someone suffering from chronic malnutrition. Gone was the youthful, plump baby fat I had at eighteen.
I stared at the reflection, still struggling to accept this reality.
Driven mad by love, disregarding my family, willing to throw myself into despair for a man who wasn’t even blood-related?
“Evelyn White, just how brainless were you?!” I wondered.
Frustrated, I smacked my own head, only to be hit with a sharp, searing pain.
Tears sprang to my eyes.
Damn it—I’d forgotten about my head injury!
Just then, there was a knock on the bathroom door. I whipped my head around and locked eyes with Julian, whose expression was dark and stern.
“You…” I instinctively clutched my towel closer, frowning at the man who had unexpectedly returned.
Even though my mind held no memory of him, my body reacted with a subtle tremble at first sight. The familiarity made my brow furrow, though to Julian, it probably looked like I was picking a fight.
He spoke coldly. “Evelyn, what are you doing in the bathroom for so long? If you’re done, get out. Or do you expect me to carry you out myself?”
His gaze shifted to the full bathtub, and his lips curled into a mocking sneer. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to slit your wrists in the tub again? Have you not had enough of these theatrics?”
Following his gaze, I noticed the blood dripping from my hand—blood from the wound on the back of my head.
I opened my mouth to explain, but before I could, Julian brushed past me, grabbed a fresh towel, and headed straight into the shower.
I stood frozen as he unbuttoned his shirt. My face immediately flushed.
“What are you doing?!”
I spun around, my cheeks burning so hot they could cook an egg.
Behind me, the sound of running water started, followed by his derisive chuckle.
“I’m taking a shower. What else?” His voice dripped with mockery. “What’s the big deal? Didn’t you used to barge in and join me for a bath all the time? What’s with the innocent act now?”
My face burned even hotter, a mix of shame and anger bubbling inside me.
“Psychopath,” I snapped, before storming out of the bathroom in a hurry.
