CHAPTER 922: CHAPTER 922 THE FIANCÉE

"Yup, total drama queen," Rafael chimed in with a smirk. "Rafael Briley. CEO of Star Ocean Entertainment and heir to the Briley Corporation."

"Xavier Montague," the next one said casually, flashing a charismatic grin. "International actor. You might’ve seen me on the big screen."

Zhane motioned to the last man, who’d been talking to Leo earlier. "And the one grilling you earlier? That’s Luke Greyson—genius investor and ruthless negotiator."

Leo cocked an eyebrow. No matter how long he listened, he couldn’t wrap his head around the situation. Everyone in the room looked and sounded like powerful men, and they were all claiming to be lovers of the same woman sitting in front of him?

That alone was enough to shock him, but what truly stunned him was the implication that he, too, was part of this tangled relationship.

He couldn’t believe it.

Leo had always considered himself a strictly monogamous man, intensely possessive and undeniably jealous. In what world would he ever agree to share his woman with other men? No matter how influential they were, it wasn’t as if he was beneath them.

In fact, Leo was the heir to the Hendrix Conglomerate, a family with international influence and far more power than all the other men in this room combined.

And more importantly, Leo already had a fiancée, someone who had been betrothed to him since before he was even born. He had grown up knowing he would marry her, and he never once imagined being with any other woman. This situation went against everything he believed in.

’Wait... what did that girl even look like again?’ Leo asked himself, but the moment he tried to remember, a sharp pain stabbed through his head. A static noise echoed in his mind, harsh and disorienting, and every time he tried to focus on her face, his fiancée’s face, his thoughts would turn white, like a flickering static screen on an old TV.

He clutched his temples as the pain surged, overwhelming his senses.

"Leo, are you alright?" a voice called out, soothing and melodic. It felt strangely familiar, yet distant, like something from a dream. Blinking through the pain, Leo slowly opened his eyes and saw her, the same beautiful woman in the cast, sitting in a wheelchair in front of him.

"I think this is a neurological response," Zhane said, stepping forward as concern lined his face. "His brain might be trying to access a blocked memory. It’s likely triggering pain because something’s preventing the connection."

Zhane pulled out a small flashlight and gently opened Leo’s eyelid, shining the light into his eyes to check his pupil reaction and ensure he was still lucid.

Hearing what Zhane said, Hera felt her heart skip a beat. A cold dread crept over her. Was Leo experiencing part of the storyline doing? Was it forcing him to forget her? The very thought made her feel like her heart was being gouged out.

The pain was so intense, so hollowing, that she didn’t even want to imagine what would happen if Leo truly forgot her and never found a way to remember. It felt like her soul was withering.

"Leo! I came as soon as I heard you were in an accident!"

A bright, cheerful voice rang out from the hallway, melodic and feminine, and in the next instant, the door burst open. A girl about Hera’s age entered the room, holding a bouquet of flowers and a fruit basket, her designer clothes crisp and immaculate. Several uniformed bodyguards followed behind her, arms full of more gifts.

The girl was undeniably elegant and beautiful, exuding a graceful confidence. But the moment she locked eyes with Hera, something unspoken passed between them.

Hera’s head had snapped toward the door the instant she heard the woman call Leo’s name so intimately, and now, every nerve in her body bristled. It felt like someone had just barged into her territory, into her place beside Leo, and was trying to flirt with her man.

Still, Hera said nothing. She stayed where she was, eyes locked on the unfamiliar woman, her silence sharper than any words.

"And who might you be?" Dave asked sharply, his brows furrowed in irritation. They had been in the middle of a crucial conversation with Leo, explaining their dynamic, their relationship, and the current state of things.

This was a delicate moment, especially since they hadn’t even introduced Hera to Leo yet or told him everything that had happened. Being interrupted now, of all times, was not only inconvenient, it was a disruption they couldn’t afford.

Dave shot a questioning look at Zhane, but the other man simply shook his head. He had given strict instructions: no one was allowed on the top floor without explicit permission. The area was heavily secured, with armed personnel stationed throughout. Yet somehow, this girl had slipped past all of them and strolled in like she owned the place.

Leo, clearly just as displeased, narrowed his eyes at the newcomer. "And you are?" he asked, his voice hoarse from the lingering pain. He was still trying to make sense of everything that had been thrown at him, and now, another stranger? His irritation was so obvious he couldn’t even hide the displeasure in his voice.

"Oh my?! Have you already forgotten what your fiancée looks like after just a few years apart?" the woman said with a sweet, teasing smile as she looked at Leo.

Her words hit Hera like a thunderbolt. Her entire body froze, her heart dropping as if the floor had been pulled out from under her. Even the others in the room stared, equally stunned. That revelation came out of nowhere.

Leo had always said in their group chat that he didn’t have a fiancée to worry about, no strings, no messy family arrangements, unlike some of them who had been promised to someone since childhood or later in life. So hearing this now, in person, from a confident stranger who looked every bit the part of an elegant heiress, was a blow none of them saw coming.

All heads turned to Leo, mouths agape, as if ready to call him out for lying. But at the same time, none of them could say anything, not when the man in question was suffering from amnesia.

"My fiancée?" Leo echoed, his voice trailing off in confusion.

Of course, he remembered that he had one, or at least, he was told he did, but as he studied the newcomer’s face, he searched for even a flicker of familiarity. Nothing came. There was no recognition, no warmth, not even the vague sense of déjà vu one might expect.

Instead, he only felt more unsettled and more irritated than he had moments before, even when he was surrounded by the group trying to explain their so-called relationship with him.

Something wasn’t right. He could feel it, gnawing at the back of his mind, but he couldn’t pinpoint the source.

Then, almost instinctively, his gaze shifted to the woman still seated quietly in the wheelchair. Her complexion had turned deathly pale, white as paper—and a flash of pain shimmered in her eyes as she looked toward the elegant newcomer now entering the room, her entourage trailing behind her. The bodyguards busied themselves, placing the bouquet and fruit basket on the small kitchen counter, oblivious to the tension they had just walked into.