Chapter 2

After two days in the hospital, Chloe drove me back home. I tried to hop in her car as she left, but she locked the door with a huff. She said, "You'd better go back inside. If your memory returns and you start pining over Jameson again, I don't want to be the bad guy." Her unease was evident—my obsession had clearly traumatized her over the years. I watched Chloe's car disappear before reluctantly entering the massive mansion. The house felt vast, empty, and unfamiliar, but the wall full of wedding photos confirmed I was in the right place. An older woman who appeared to be the maid came to take my bags. "Ms. Lambert, Mr. Brown is away on business today. You don't have to wait up for dinner." I nodded and turned toward the stairs, but her surprised reaction stopped me. "Mrs—Ms. Lambert, aren't you going to ask about Mr. Brown's whereabouts?" "Didn't you say he's away on business?" I asked, confused. She gave me an odd look. "Y-Yes… but you usually don't believe that." I waved my hand dismissively. "If he's not coming home, don't bother cooking for him. I'm heading upstairs." As I walked away, I heard her muttering, "Strange… She's like a different person." … Once in my room, I immediately took a shower. The hospital stay had been comfortable enough, but proper bathing was impossible. Moreover, I had always been a neat freak. The warm bath was relaxing, giving me time to process everything Chloe had told me over the past three days. I was married, and not just married, but five years deep into a marriage with Jameson Brown, Greenview University's unapproachable heartthrob whom I had met during my sophomore year. According to Chloe, I had been obsessed with Jameson for seven years, yet my memories only reach back to freshman year, when I was the Lambert heiress. In those memories, I was young, beautiful, and wealthy—admirers would line up from Cranbel's Golden Tower to Chance Avenue just to ask me out. According to Chloe, I was practically glowing back then, a confidence that radiated only among wealthy heiresses. Yet, everything changed when I joined the theater club and met Jameson. He had guest-starred in a production, and I was instantly transformed into his most pathetic admirer overnight. My college years became a handbook on desperate pursuit. There was not a single undignified thing I would not do for his attention. Chloe said I acted like I was under a spell, shamelessly pursuing Jameson despite knowing he had a childhood sweetheart. I even put up with being called names for "wrecking" their relationship, all so that I could be around him. Under my relentless campaign, the campus heartthrob finally accepted my proposal during my senior year. I didn't know where I got the guts to propose to Jameson; it was simply shameless of me. Just like that, we got married, with no real wedding to speak of, just a quick photoshoot before I became Mrs. Brown. Once married, Jameson's family company hit a critical period, and he became consumed with work. At first, I handled it normally, but then I discovered he didn't love me at all, and his first love's presence lingered everywhere. That was when I started losing my mind in this marriage. I used every method possible to track Jameson's movements 24/7, even hiring private investigators to gather information about his first love abroad. The investigation, which cost me a fortune, revealed the truth about Jameson's breakup with his first love. I discovered, devastatingly, that I was just a pawn in his plan to save his family's company—he never loved me; he had married me for access to the Lambert family's resources. After our marriage, he openly took control of my shares and funds from the Lambert Group. As a result, Jameson's company had turned a corner thanks to my funding, but the Lamberts took a huge financial hit because of it. My father was so furious he ended up in the hospital after a stroke, my fragile mother developed heart issues from the stress, and my older brother, who had always adored me, slapped me for the first time. My blind devotion to my husband had turned me into the laughingstock of Seraoli and Cranbel's elite social circle. Without the Lamberts' support, I became more insecure and unstable than ever. My hysterical outbursts didn't make Jameson feel guilty. Instead, they made him despise and avoid me. Meanwhile, his perfect ex remained gracefully connected to him from afar, maintaining her image as the sophisticated art genius. Her serene life highlighted my messy love story. Her talent and growing success emphasized my lack of accomplishments and refinement. She was the elegant genius floating above it all, while I was the hysterical, crude Mrs. Brown. Anyone with eyes would choose her over me. Yet, everyone seemed to forget that I was once Cranbel's most talented heiress, who got into Greenview University with top rankings. I loved Jameson so much that I lost myself, while his perfect ex enjoyed his undying affection from abroad. Finally, after a heated argument over something trivial, I threatened to jump from the balcony. Jameson, tired of my dramatics, simply walked away. In my desperation, I jumped from the second floor—I survived but suffered a concussion. … Finishing this mental replay, I shuddered. The bathwater had turned cold, so I quickly got out and wrapped myself in a towel. My reflection showed a pale face with an unnatural flush. I had lost the baby fat from my 18-year-old days, looking malnourished instead. I still couldn't believe how I had become so obsessed with love that I would hurt my family for a man who was not even blood-related. "Wynonna, how could you be so stupid?" I scolded myself as I smacked my head in frustration. However, I immediately regretted it as pain shot through my skull. Tears quickly welled in my eyes—I had forgotten about my injury. Suddenly, the bathroom door opened, and I looked up to find Jameson's stern face staring back at me. "You…" I instinctively clutched my towel tighter, frowning at his unexpected appearance. Though I had no memory of his face, my body's involuntary trembling felt familiar. My frown deepened, which Jameson took as a sign of trouble brewing. "What have you been doing here for so long? Get out unless you want me to carry you out. Or wait, were you planning another bathtub suicide attempt? Aren't you tired of these games, Wynonna?" His eyes fell on the bloody water, and I tried to explain it was from my head wound. Yet, Jameson had already brushed past me, grabbing a towel and heading for the shower. My face burned red as he started unbuttoning his shirt. I exclaimed, "What are you doing?" I quickly turned away, my face burning. Behind me, the sound of the shower came on, followed by Jameson's mocking laugh. "I'm taking a shower. What's wrong? You used to love sneaking in here for shower time together. Why act so innocent now?" My face grew even hotter, filled with humiliation and anger I couldn't express. "You're crazy," I muttered and hurried out of the bathroom.