Chapter 39

I had never seen Hayden this angry. Previously, even in his fury, he’d at most scold me before walking away. This was different. His usually calm, deep eyes burned with rage, mixed with an urgency I couldn't decipher. It mirrored the only other time I’d seen that look—after he'd drunk the drugged coffee.

For over ten years, Hayden had been composed. Now, inexplicably, he was a changed man. Suddenly, it dawned on me—he was talking about that. His physical reaction made my cheeks flush, my mind going blank. "That's not what I meant. Get off me," I stammered.

I tried to push him away, but my efforts were pathetically weak against his strength. He was immovable, a wall. Then, his lips barely parting, he spoke: "Yvonne."

I stared, lost and uncertain. This was a stranger. "Before you took me to the hospital that day, did we… do it?" he asked, his deep eyes boring into mine.

My breath hitched. Days had passed; why was he still fixated on this? Panic surged. Had he figured something out? If I denied it, he could do nothing. We were divorcing; he'd be with Joanna. Why complicate things?

"No," I spat, avoiding his gaze. Finally, I mustered the strength to push against his chest. "Get off me."

But Hayden remained unmoved. His gaze was unwavering, piercing, feeling as if it reached into my soul. I changed tactics, forcing a seductive smile, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Hayden, whatever happened to the aloof man who swore he'd never touch me? Looks like someone's rather eager now."

As expected, he recoiled, disgust etched on his face, his eyebrows furrowed. I knew this would work. Sitting up, I placed a hand on his jaw, leaning close to whisper, "Is this how you treat Joanna?"

The thought of him with Joanna stung, yet I felt a surprising relief. The past year's heartache had freed me from my feelings. People changed; I wasn't the same person. My plan was to utterly repulse him, triggering his usual storming-out response. I miscalculated.

Hayden didn't leave. He seemed almost possessed, grabbing my hand, pulling me close. Our noses were inches apart. His masculine energy filled the space, assertive and overpowering.

"Do you think everyone is as deceitful as you?" he asked, his expression dripping with contempt.

A lump formed in my throat. In his eyes, I was the worst—a woman willing to do anything. After ten years of love and loyalty, I received only his disgust.

"Yeah, I'm unbearable. So why don't you just let go of me?" I shot back, glaring, feeling nauseous. My stomach churned.

Hayden seemed provoked. He pushed down harder, his heavy breathing against my ear sending shivers down my spine. "Trying to provoke me, Yvonne? That won't work anymore. Besides, we're married, right? What we're doing isn't unusual for couples. Are you scared?" His mischievous grin was unsettling.

Everything I knew about Hayden was wrong. He wasn't the calm man I knew; he was a domineering CEO.

"You…" I stammered, panic rising. If he was serious, I couldn't escape. But it was Hayden. Could he really mean this?

"Let go of me. We're getting a divorce. Don't you dislike me?" I scrambled for excuses, blurting out whatever came to mind.

In the struggle, Hayden, who moments before seemed furious, suddenly reached up, clutching his head, pain etched across his face.

I was taken aback. "You… what's happening?"

Hayden didn't answer, but his furrowed brow indicated a sudden headache. Why now? Little did I know, my pushing had inadvertently triggered a memory.

After the pain, Hayden squeezed his eyes shut. He heard pained cries echoing in his mind: "Hayden, don't, please." A woman? He tried to see her face, but his vision was blurry. The more he focused, the more intense the pain became. He clutched his head, unable to bear it.

I watched in shock, remembering his coma after the accident. Could this be a lingering effect? Forgetting his harsh treatment, I asked, "Are you okay?"

My voice overlapped with the voice in Hayden's mind. He froze; the images sharpened. "It was Yvonne, lying beneath me. Her face was stained with tears, begging me to stop," he thought, disbelief filling his voice as he asked, "It's you?"

"What? If it's not me, who else?" I was stunned. We were alone, weren't we?

Hayden grabbed my wrist, his voice frantic. "Why did you lie to me?"

"What did I lie about?" I shot back, confused. Had I said something I shouldn't have?

Hayden didn't respond, pressing his temples, lost in thought, as if digging up distant memories. In his coma, a beautiful piano melody had drifted—a haunting tune he'd never heard before. With it, he could almost hear a woman's whisper. He couldn't make out the words, but her voice was gentle and melodic. He'd tried to open his eyes and thought he saw a woman in a white dress at the piano, her long hair flowing. That silhouette felt familiar.