Wilder didn’t say another word after they returned home.
He walked Nyxia to their bedroom, made sure she was comfortable, and waited until she had settled against the pillows.
The excitement and humiliation of the evening had finally faded from her face, leaving only a faint trace of exhaustion around her eyes.
She looked much calmer than she had in the car, when her supposed confusion had nearly shattered the control he had maintained over the conversation.
“Get some rest,” he said.
Nyxia gave him a small nod.
Wilder remained beside the bed for another moment, studying her quietly.
She looked vulnerable beneath the warm bedroom lights, still wearing the wedding dress that had caused such a spectacle at the hotel.
The sight should have reassured him.
Instead, the uneasiness that had followed him from the hotel only grew stronger.
He finally turned and left.
The moment the bedroom door closed behind him, Wilder’s expression hardened.
Something wasn’t right.
He had tried to dismiss the suspicion several times during the drive home, but it refused to disappear.
Nyxia’s performance had been convincing enough to fool anyone who wasn’t paying close attention.
She had looked frightened when he questioned her.
Her breathing had changed, her voice had trembled, and when she suggested that perhaps Magnus had once been her boyfriend, she had looked genuinely uncertain.
Yet Wilder couldn’t forget how quickly she had turned the situation around.
Instead of trying to understand what Magnus’s words meant, she had made Wilder defend their marriage.
Instead of questioning whether Magnus had really been her boyfriend, she had questioned whether Wilder was truly her husband.
And when Wilder had panicked, she had calmed down.
Perhaps it meant nothing.
Perhaps the accident really had left her with nothing but fragments of memory, and her mind was simply trying to make sense of contradictory information.
But Wilder had spent too many years relying on his instincts to ignore the feeling now.
He walked down the hallway toward his study.
If Nyxia was pretending, he needed to know.
If she truly couldn’t remember, he needed to know that too.
The study was dark when he entered.
He switched on the desk lamp, and a warm pool of light spread across the polished surface.
For a moment, he stood there with one hand resting against the back of his chair, thinking about what could possibly reveal the truth without giving Nyxia any reason to suspect that he was testing her.
Then his eyes settled on the drawer beneath the desk.
He knew exactly what was inside.
Wilder unlocked it and removed a black folder.
The photographs inside had been collected before Nyxia’s accident.
They showed Magnus and Nova together at different places and on different occasions, each image providing another piece of evidence that their relationship had existed long before they had openly admitted it.
Wilder had kept them for one reason.
Nyxia.
He had wanted proof before exposing the truth to her.
Now, however, the photographs could serve another purpose.
If Nyxia had truly lost her memories, seeing Magnus and Nova together should provoke something.
It might be nothing more than confusion, but even confusion would tell him something.
If she remembered the past, however, she would recognize the photographs immediately.
He closed the folder and considered the idea for another moment.
Then he picked it up.
By the time Wilder returned to the bedroom, Nyxia was still sitting against the headboard.
She looked up when he entered.
Her eyes briefly settled on the folder in his hand.
“What is that?”
“Some documents from the study.”
He crossed the room and placed the black folder on the bedside table.
He didn’t put it directly in front of her or tell her to open it.
Instead, he left it slightly ajar, just enough for the edge of a photograph to remain visible beneath the cover.
It looked accidental.
It wasn’t.
Wilder knew exactly how much of the photograph he wanted her to see.
Nyxia’s eyes moved toward it, and Wilder caught the briefest change in her expression before she looked away again.
“I need to take a shower,” he said.
“Alright.”
He walked toward the bathroom at an unhurried pace, resisting the temptation to glance back at her.
Once inside, he left the door slightly open rather than closing it completely.
From the narrow gap, he could see part of the bedroom through the mirror.
He waited. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
The shower never started.
Instead, Wilder stood in silence, watching.
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For several moments, I remained where I was, pretending to be occupied with the loose strands of hair that had fallen over my shoulders.
I could feel Wilder’s attention somewhere beyond the bathroom door.
The silence itself was enough to tell me this wasn’t an ordinary shower break.
He had left the door slightly open for a reason.
My eyes drifted toward the bedside table.
The black folder was still there.
I already knew what was inside.
I had seen those photographs in his study.
Magnus and Nova had been photographed together long before the accident.
What I didn’t know was why Wilder had decided to bring them here.
A man as calculating as Wilder Reed didn’t accidentally leave something like this within my reach.
He wanted me to look.
So I would give him what he wanted.
I reached for the folder and pulled it closer.
The photographs showed Magnus and Nova together at restaurants, outside hotels, entering places with a familiarity that made their relationship impossible to mistake.
I turned one over between my fingers, studying it without any real reaction.
Nothing inside me moved.
I had already known.
I closed the folder and placed it exactly where I had found it.
For a few seconds I simply sat there, letting the silence settle.
Wilder was waiting for a reaction.
I wasn’t going to give him the one he expected.
The bathroom door opened a few minutes later.
Wilder stepped into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, damp hair still carrying droplets of water.
He stopped when he saw me holding the folder.
Our eyes met.
“Wilder.”
He studied my face.
“What is it?”
I lifted the folder slightly.
“I saw these photographs.”
His gaze dropped briefly toward it before returning to me.
I could see the calculation in his eyes.
He had probably expected me to ask about Magnus.
He should have known better.
“Why were you spying on them?” I asked.
The change in his expression was almost immediate.
“What?”
“You heard me.” I opened the folder again and placed several photographs on the bed between us, making sure to look at them with suspicion rather than recognition.
“You had someone follow Magnus and Nova, didn’t you?”
“That isn’t what I….”
“Then why do you have photographs of them?”
Wilder stared at me for a moment, apparently trying to understand how the conversation had gone so far off the path he had prepared.
“I was investigating them.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew they were hiding something from you.”
I narrowed my eyes and picked up one of the photographs.
“Were you following my sister?”
“I was gathering information.”
“About Nova?”
“About Magnus and Nova.”
I lowered the photograph and looked at him.
“That sounds suspicious.”
For a man who had spent the entire evening maintaining complete control, Wilder suddenly looked almost helpless.
“You think I’m interested in Nova?” he asked, almost incredulous.
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because she’s your sister.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
He dragged a hand over his face, exhaling slowly.
“Then why have you been watching her?”
“Because she was involved with Magnus!”
His answer came louder this time.
I watched him carefully, then deliberately looked away as though I were offended rather than amused by how easily I had made him lose his composure.
I pulled the blanket a little closer around myself.
“I don’t like it.”
Wilder’s expression changed.
The irritation disappeared, replaced by something softer.
He stepped toward the bed.
“Nyxia.”
I refused to look at him.
He sat beside me, leaving a small space between us.
“I wasn’t watching her because I wanted her,” he said, quieter than before.
“I was watching her because I didn’t trust her.
She and Magnus were hiding their relationship from you.
I wanted proof before I confronted them.”
“You could have told me.”
“I didn’t want to upset you.”
I finally turned toward him.
“You still upset me.”
His shoulders lowered slightly.
“I know.”
I studied his face for another moment.
“Do you like her?”
“No.”
The answer came so quickly that I almost smiled.
“Not even a little?” I asked.
“Not even slightly.” His eyes never left mine.
“The only woman I want is you.”
I let my expression soften, but kept enough displeasure in my eyes to make sure he understood I wasn’t ready to forgive him completely.
“I don’t like that you were watching her.”
“I won’t do it again.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
He extended his hand toward mine, waiting for permission.
I let my fingers rest against his palm.
His hand closed gently around mine.
“I don’t want another woman taking you away from me,” I whispered.
Something changed in his expression.
The tension around his eyes softened.
He seemed genuinely affected by the words, as though my jealousy had reassured him more than any answer I could have given about Magnus.
“You don’t have to worry about that.” He looked down at our hands.
“You’re my wife.
There is no one else.”
I allowed the silence to linger before slowly leaning against his shoulder.
Wilder’s arm came around me at once.
He held me close, and I could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest.
His earlier suspicion seemed to have disappeared completely.
Whatever question had been bothering him since the hotel, my little performance had given him the answer he wanted.
He had entered the room expecting to discover whether I was hiding something about Magnus.
Instead, he had found a jealous wife who seemed far more concerned about losing her husband than about the man who had once been her boyfriend.
And that was exactly what I needed him to believe.
I kept my face against his chest, hiding the small smile that threatened to appear.
A few questions, a little jealousy, and the guarded expression he had been wearing only moments ago had vanished.
He believed my reaction was proof that my memories were still gone.
For too long, Wilder had been the one deciding how much I knew.
He had assumed he was the only one playing.
Beneath the warmth of his embrace, quiet satisfaction spread through me.
His test had given me something far more valuable than the photographs themselves.
It had given me a glimpse of what Wilder feared.
And judging by the way he was holding me now, I had just won another round.