Page 5 of Obsessing Over His Favorite

She blinked, forcing the blur away from her eyes, then glanced back at the now-closed bathroom door. “Those men out there are so damn rude.”

Turning back to the mirror, she studied her reflection with quiet uncertainty. Her face was small and delicate—soft, almost cute—but framed by sleek, mid-length dark hair that fell just past her breasts, giving her a sophisticated edge. Her eyes held a mix of confusion and weariness, shadows hinting at nights spent restless.

Though her features remained gentle, there was a new fullness to her cheeks and a subtle maturity in her expression. Her frame felt less fragile than before, stronger somehow—yet nothing about this reflection felt familiar anymore.

“Have I… really lost my memory?” she whispered, voice trembling. “What the hell is going on?”

***

Two Days Later, a sleek black car pulled up to a gated mansion.

The nameplate by the front entrance gleamed under the morning sun.

‘Lucas Cantrell’

Emily leaned forward in the back seat, reading the name as it rolled off her lips. “Lucas…”

It was the name she’d heard countless times over the past two days.

Lucas Cantrell. Billionaire. Owner of a luxury jewelry empire. Her boyfriend of five years.

Apparently.

Taylor and Dillon had spoken to him more than once during her hospital stay. She hadn’t seen him—only heard his voice once, faintly through a phone on speaker.

‘She’s not coming home because she wants me to visit the hospital and beg her. Let her wait. Let her learn. I’m not giving in this time. She’ll come home when she’s done playing games. And if not, I don’t care.’

The memory made her stomach twist. The mocking grin on Dillon’s face, the indifference in Lucas’ tone—it was all a blur, but it still burned.

She didn’t understand any of it.

Now, as the car slowed in front of the mansion, she stepped out. The vehicle pulled away behind her, leaving her facing the wide marble steps of the estate.

She stared up at it for a long moment.

Then stepped inside.

The house was sleek and modern—high ceilings, clean white walls, and minimalist luxury. A massive open living room flowed into a state-of-the-art kitchen and a marble dining area. The sofas were oversized and elegant, arranged around a low square table.

Everything was white. Pristine. Cold.

She wandered deeper into the house and paused when she reached a wall lined with photographs.

She was in every single picture. Smiling. Laughing.

As she moved closer, she realized she wasn’t alone in them. There was a man standing right next to her in every picture.

Dark eyes, dark hair, light stubble, and a strikingly handsome face. His gaze met hers from the photos, sharp and penetrating, burning with an intensity that made her heart race. But with that rush came pain. Intense, raw pain.

Blinking, she tore her eyes away and moved to the next photo across the wall. The ache in her chest dulled slightly, and she held her breath before going back to the pictures she had just left.

In one picture, he was hugging her from behind. In another, kissing her gently on the cheek. In one, he leaned close to whisper something in her ear; in another, he stood watching her with a quiet intensity. There were dozens more scattered throughout the house.

She looked around the spacious home. It wasn’t overwhelming, but these photos made it clear—she had lived here.

‘So I really was someone’s girlfriend for five years,’ she muttered, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.

One hand went to her stomach, the other rested on her arm as her fingers nervously grazed her lips, chewing on a nail. She turned toward the stairs and climbed slowly, entering a bedroom filled with more photos.