The Tyrannical Wolf King's Contract Bride-Chapter 92: Unexpected Amnesia

Lila’s POV

My body felt like it was floating between the deep water and the shore.

My consciousness was a wisp of fog, pushed by the waves, unable to sink or rise.

But I knew—

Someone was there.

A warm hand rested on my forehead. The palm was lightly calloused, and the fingertips gently pressed against my temples. The pressure was light, kneading over and over, soothing me toward sleep.

Then, the slightly coarse feeling of cotton—a towel soaked in cool water began at my left temple, slowly wiping downward over my brow bone, eye socket, and cheekbone, finally stopping behind my right ear.

Next, another hand.

Two fingers, the index and middle, pressed together and very gently wiped away a nearly dry, wet streak from the corner of my left eye.

Tears. ’Had I been crying?’

Then, lips.

Very light, very warm, they landed right in the center of my forehead.

There was no lingering, no added pressure. They just touched down, paused for half a second, and then left. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

Like a feather landing, then floating away again.

My eyelids remained closed, but I knew the exact placement of that kiss—perfectly centered, right below my brow, on that small patch of the softest skin.

I kept my eyes shut, but my tightly clenched hands slowly began to relax.

My fingertips loosened, sinking into the texture of the linen sheets.

—

The morning sun slanted in through the gap in the off-white curtains, casting a narrow band of light on the wooden floor.

I opened my eyes.

My vision was blurry, the edges washed out, as if I were looking through a thin mist.

I had to blink twice before I could make out the ceiling—its bright, cheerful color was strangely familiar.

The sheets were linen, cool to the touch, and carried the clean scent of having been dried in the sun.

I lifted my hand, and a dull ache came from my right wrist. Four crescent-shaped red marks had yet to fade, showing a faint bluish tint in the morning light.

I didn’t move, just lay there quietly, listening to the sound of my own breathing. It was slow, steady, and unfamiliar.

Then I heard it—

A very soft gasp.

The rustle of fabric rubbing together.

A warm hand gently settled on the back of my left hand.

Zoe was sitting by the bed, her hair loose. Her eyes were red-rimmed, with dark, bluish shadows beneath them, as if she hadn’t slept for days.

Her right hand covered my left, while her own left hand was raised, its fingertips hovering a centimeter above my cheek, trembling, afraid to touch down.

Then, she suddenly leaned forward, wrapped her arms around me, and held me tight—so tight it felt like she was trying to merge me into her very bones.

My shoulder took the brunt of her emotions, first a suppressed sob, which then turned into a broken whimper, and finally, she actually laughed. Her laughter was hoarse and thick with nasality:

"You’re back... You’re really back..."

"I was worried sick... I really was..."

I let her hold me and only asked in a low voice, dry and raspy like sandpaper on wood:

"Zoe? Where is this?"

Zoe pulled back, raising a hand to wipe her face, smearing a mixture of tears and laughter across it.

"This is our home, Lila! You were finally rescued! I’ve been so, so worried about you these past few days!"

I shook my head with a smile. "Don’t kid me, Zoe. What do you mean ’our home’? What do you mean ’rescued’?"

"I have to go home. Caleb will be upset that I didn’t come back all of last night."

Zoe sniffled and looked toward the window.

"She... She really doesn’t remember."

It was only then that I noticed someone by the window. A tall man with an air of authority had been standing there the whole time.

His back was to the bed, his hands in his pockets. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, and a scratch on the outside of his left forearm had scabbed over, dark red like a seal.

Hearing Zoe’s words, he slowly turned around.

He didn’t look at me at first. His gaze fell on Zoe’s face for half a second before shifting to me.

He spoke, his voice hoarse, like the resonant strings of a cello.

"Yes. The doctor said she has amnesia."

I looked at him.

He stood in the morning light, his silhouette sharp. His jawline was taut, and his pupils contracted in the backlight, becoming two extremely thin golden threads.

My heart suddenly skipped a beat, as if something invisible had gently bumped against it.

The silence in the air made me very uncomfortable.

"Amnesia?"

"You guys aren’t joking with me, right? Is this for some kind of reality show?"

The man didn’t answer.

He just took one step forward, stopping at the foot of the bed.

He lowered his gaze, his eyes sweeping over the four crescent-shaped red marks on my right wrist before returning to meet mine.

He spoke even more slowly, as if afraid of startling something.

"It’s okay."

"When you’re feeling a little better..."

"I’ll slowly tell you what happened."

I nodded, not pressing for more.

I lowered my eyes and looked at my left hand resting on the duvet—the nails were neatly trimmed, the knuckles slender, with no cuts or scars.

A few seconds later, I looked up. My gaze was calm, but it held an unquestionable certainty.

"I feel like... you seem familiar to me."

"But I’m truly sorry..."

"I really don’t remember where we’ve met."

"I want to find... my brother—Caleb Goodrich."

Zoe sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers instantly clenching the bedsheet.

Jasper’s arms tensed instantly, and he clamped his jaw shut with immense restraint to keep from making a sound.

Then, he pulled his hands back, shoved them into his pockets, and turned to walk toward the door.

The morning light outlined the curve of his shoulders and illuminated a very faint, snake-shaped old scar below the back of his collar—barely visible, like an unhealed vow.

Zoe took my hand and said softly:

"Lila..."

"The Goodrich family... something happened. For now, you and Caleb are both staying at my place, okay?"

My eyes followed her gaze to our overlapping hands.

My fingers were long and my knuckles distinct. At the base of my ring finger was a very faint, thin, silvery line—like a faded mark from a ring.

I stared at that mark for a long time.

"Zoe... maybe I really have forgotten something that happened."

"Thank you for taking me and Caleb in."

Zoe watched me quietly, her eyes red, but she didn’t let the tears fall.

She nodded, very lightly, very slowly.

"Mm, you don’t have to thank me... Rest for a bit. I’ll arrange for Caleb to come see you."

Outside, the wind picked up.

The curtains swayed gently, and the band of morning light moved slowly across the floor like a swimming fish.

It crawled from my feet, up my shins, and stopped an inch above my knee.

I looked down, watching the light.

It was warm, quiet, and familiar.

—

A wind came from the east, carrying the scent of fresh grass and damp earth.

I walked ahead, my steps light, my fingers unconsciously brushing the leaves of a low bush by the path. Caleb followed half a step behind, his hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the back of my neck, never straying for a second.

On the terrace.

Jasper and Zoe stood side by side, not speaking.

Zoe held a glass of lukewarm water, the outside beaded with fine droplets of condensation.

She didn’t drink, just watched me and Caleb in the garden below.

Zoe placed the glass on the terrace railing and asked softly:

"Are you really not worried?"

Jasper didn’t look at her.

"I’m not worried."

"She remembers how to breathe, how to walk, and how to say Caleb’s name."

"That’s enough."

"Some things... they’re there even if you don’t remember them."

Zoe didn’t ask any more questions.

She just picked the glass up again, her fingertips stroking its cool surface.

In the garden, I stopped and looked up at Caleb.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, casting dappled spots of light on my face.

"Zoe said we’re staying here for a while?"

Caleb’s Adam’s apple bobbed. The lines he had rehearsed dozens of times in his head surfaced, rigid and forced.

The lies about drowning, about amnesia, about the family’s bankruptcy, were like a red-hot iron searing his stomach.

But he had to say them.

This was Jasper’s warning to him in the study late one night, a warning with a pressure no less than that brought by Derek.

"Take care of her. And remember, you’re just her adoptive brother." Jasper’s voice back then had been like a blade quenched in ice. "Don’t even think about any other role."

At the time, Caleb had clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms, but in the end, all he could do was nod.

"Right, we’re just staying here temporarily," Caleb said, his voice a little hoarse. "Lila... do you remember anything about our past?"