Page 61 of Deadly Don's Savage Vows

How can that be possible?

She has been walking around my penthouse apartment in New York City as though she and I are strangers. She looks awkward around me and has even avoided me.

I can see she is uncomfortable and confused but I don’t know how to help her.

Lina has left the city and gone home. I had hoped she would help me take care of Bella, bring her back to herself, but Lina is bitter and full of anger after finding out what happened.

Whenever I can convince Bella to hold Dante I do. She sits with him in her arms, staring down at him as though he is some foreign thing she doesn’t know what to do with.

She is gentle with him, and I can see she is taken by him - but she has no memory of him being her son. At least he has made her smile a few times.

Lisa comes to visit and has been helping with Dante here and there, but Bella doesn’t remember her either.

I have to make her remember me - to rememberus.

I’m taking care of our son without her. He needs her.

He’s lost his mother.

She’shere-but she’s not here. I have to bring her back to us.

“Bella, I thought today we could go for a drive. I want to show you something.” I say when she walks into the room.

She pauses for a moment, biting her lip just like she always has. It’s so strange to look at her, to know her gestures and expressions, to know her laugh and her preferences - but to also that she doesn’t know me at all.

“Um - ok.” She says nervously. “Where did you want to take me?”

“Lisa will be here in a bit for Dante - then we can get going. I thought - maybe I shouldn’t tell you and we should just drive there. The city and the place we are going - I’m hoping it will help you remember something.”

She nods. Most of her replies are silent. She is lost inside herself, withdrawn and pensive. I want to bring her out again. That bubbly, feisty beautiful girl I know is in there. She just has to let her out.

But the girl that she remembers is the one who was with Marcus. The girl who was trapped and traumatized. Not only is Bella suffering from a year of her life being missing - but she thinks she has only just got away from Marcus. That’s what her mind believes. She is going through a lot.

I just wish I could make her better.

Bella is quiet on the way to the gallery. She is staring out of the window and I keep looking over at her face, searching for any signs of recognition in her eyes. But her face is relaxed, empty, just watching.

When we arrive at the gallery, I park in her old spot where she used to park most nights. Even the jolting memory of the moment Marcus took her would be something - but if not that then the monotony of the fact that she parked here every day for work. It was a little repetitive habit, something she did every day.

We walk from her parking spot towards the gallery and she still doesn’t seem to know where she is.

She is looking around and taking everything in as though it was her first time here.

Killian is at work and when Bella walk in he rushes over and hugs her. “Oh my word, you can’t believe how I’ve missed you.” He says, holding her tight. She stands as stiff as a nail with her eyes wide open and her arms at her side.

“You really don’t remember anything?” He says with pain in his voice as he steps away. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. We - we were good friends. You were my boss.” He smiles.

“I’m sorry - “ She mumbles, looking uncomfortable.

“Just walk around Bella, explore the place and see if anything comes back to you.” I say, trying to encourage her to take it all in, on her own time and her own way.

Killian steps away from her, standing with me and we watch her as she walks around, admiring each piece of artwork - paintings and sculptures that she chose to be displayed here. The entire setup of the gallery is the one that she designed. Everything here is hers. It’s her choices.

She reaches up and touches things, runs her fingers over surfaces, she explores her office, touching the pink pen and the blue notebook. She sits in the office chair and strums her fingers on the desk. She doesn’t say a word, but I can see it isn’t bringing anything back. It isn’t helping her at all. Nothing is familiar.

I stare at her from the doorway. She looks up at me, her hands resting on the desk.

“Anything?” I ask.

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