"Got questions? Just hit me up. I told you, I can spill the tea on anything you need."

On their drive, Archer Reynolds clocked Celine Evans hesitating, like she had something to say but was holding back. He offered an opening.

Celine took a beat, then confessed, "I don't know them."

Archer gave a knowing nod.

"I figured. You're not lying."

Celine let out a relieved exhale and laid out her confusion.

"But the way they acted, it was like they knew me, and not just casually. Like, that guy yesterday straight-up called me his wife."

"Hmm..." A weird twinge hit Archer’s chest. He shifted, feeling a bit off, but seeing her face, he just smiled. Why get bent out of shape? She didn't remember.

"What's your take? You're a smart cookie, I bet you've already got theories, right?"

"I've been spinning them in my head. I think there are two main possibilities," Celine offered.

"Lay 'em on me." The traffic light turned red. Archer hit the brakes, took a swig of coffee, and looked at her.

Her small, delicate face was a picture of sharp intelligence.

"Okay, first off, maybe it's me. Like, something happened, or I did something, and now I've got amnesia and forgot them. Or," she continued, "it's them. Maybe there's someone who looks like me, or a sister I don't even know about, who was tangled up with them and then peaced out. They might be mistaking me for her."

After mulling it over, Celine shared her thoughts.

Archer nodded, getting the car moving again as he asked, "So, which one feels more likely to you?"

Celine answered without missing a beat, "The second one. I mean, in my twenty-plus years of memories, even if I've forgotten little stuff, there aren't any huge blanks."

"But, Archer, I’ve got this gnawing feeling about it. I feel this weird pull away from both of them. So I think..."

Archer caught the wobble in her voice and pulled over. He gave her head a gentle pat. Gazing at the river of headlights, he reassured her, "You're spooked, aren't you? But don't be. Even if it's the first option, if you don't wanna remember, nobody can force you."

His solid tone soothed her.

He was right. As long as she held her ground, nobody could make her do anything, no matter what.

Even if there were nasty memories lurking, she’d forgotten them.

The current her was a fresh start.

What’s done is done!

"Dante, you went behind my back to see Celine?!"

The second Celine and Archer were out of sight, Isabella Lopez, who’d been holding it in all evening, exploded.

A flash of guilt crossed Dante’s face, but he quickly parried, "I didn't seek her out. I bumped into them both by chance at a gala last night."

Isabella wasn’t buying it. Unimpressed, she turned her head away, silent.

Dante pulled her into his arms, rubbing her back.

His attempt at comfort was pretty obvious as he said, "C'mon, c'mon, why would I go looking for her? If you don't believe me, ask my assistant. It was totally random."

Isabella finally relented, leaning into his chest, a pout on her lips, tinged with hurt. "I believe you. But she used to be your wife, so I can't help feeling a little... territorial."

Her words hit Dante with a wave of guilt, and he held her tighter.

"She means zero to me. Don't even sweat it."

"Okay, let's head home then." Isabella's eyes crinkled, pleased with his answer.

...

The Lopez Estate.

The moment Dante walked through the door, he was summoned to the study by Isabella's grandfather.

The old man sat behind his desk, his face a thundercloud. The main light in the study was off, leaving only the dim glow of a desk lamp.

Seeing Dante enter, the old man’s gaze was like a laser, but he said nothing, cranking up the tension.

Dante frowned and walked to the desk, clueless as to what he’d done to earn this silent treatment.

Already seething from the night’s events, he plopped onto the sofa, his tone sharp.

"What have I done now?"

Isabella's grandfather pulled out a thick stack of photos and slapped them onto the desk. His grim expression morphed into pure fury. He pointed a shaking finger at Dante and roared, "How dare you ask! Look at the mess you've made! These were sent straight to me!"

Dante picked up the photos, still playing it cool. "Grandpa, you gotta take it easy at your age. All this anger isn't good for your health."

"You ungrateful brat! If you had an ounce of respect, I wouldn't have to lose my temper!" the old man bellowed, red-faced.

Dante flipped through the photos. The first few were of him and Isabella. He gave them a bored glance, tossing each one aside.

But as he kept going, his face darkened with each subsequent picture.