The Billionaire's Insignificant Wife novel Chapter 96

4/4

might at hotgetting

Weight of Forgetting

The CT scan took forty minutes.

+25 Bonus

Daniel stood outside the imaging room with his back against the cold hospital wall, staring into nothing.

Margaret sat in a nearby plastic chair, her hands folded in her lap with an unnatural stillness. The kind of stillness that comes from holding too much tension for too long.

Clarissa paced. Three steps in one direction. Three steps back. Her heels clicked against the linoleum floor in a rhythm that wore at Daniel’s nerves.

When Dr. Emily finally appeared with the radiologist, her expression was carefully neutral in the practiced way doctors learn when delivering news that will change everything.

“We need to talk in my office,” she said.

They followed without a word.

Her office was small. Functional. Dr. Emily gestured to the chairs but remained standing herself, a tablet in her hands displaying images that Daniel couldn’t fully interpret but knew were pictures of Junior’s brain.

“The good news,” Dr. Emily began, “is that the swelling has reduced significantly and there’s no new bleeding. The surgery was successful in that regard.”

“And the bad news?” Margaret’s voice was sharp.

Dr. Emily tapped the screen, highlighting a small dark area. “Here. This is the left temporal lobe. Specifically, the hippocampal region. Junior’s fall caused a contusion here, along with diffuse axonal injury to the surrounding tissue.”

She looked up. “The hippocampus is critical for forming and retrieving episodic memories. Memories about events, people, experiences. This injury has resulted in what we call post–traumatic amnesia, or PTA.”

Daniel’s throat was too tight to speak.

“Is it permanent?” Margaret asked.

“Most cases of PTA resolve within weeks to months, particularly in children whose brains possess greater plasticity. However, I need to be honest with you- there are no guarantees. Some memories may return fully. Some partially. Some may never return at all.”

The words settled over the room like ash.

“And new memories?” Daniel managed to speak. “Can he form new ones?”

“That’s actually the more encouraging part. The injury is localized. His ability to form new memories appears intact. He can learn, adapt, make new connections. The issue is the retrieval of older episodic memories, particularly those from the past several years.”

“Several years?” Clarissa’s voice rose. “How many years?”

Dr. Emily checked her notes. “Based on his responses during the cognitive assessment, he has retained some core identity information. He knows his name, his age, basic facts about himself. He recognizes his father and grandmother, though those relationships were formed early and consistently reinforced.”

She paused. “But specific events, people who entered his life more recently, routines that developed over the past few years–those are the memories most affected. It’s as though the last two to three years exist only in

1/4

Wever Forgetting

+25 Bonus

fragments, or not at all.”

Margaret made a sound. Small. Devastated.

Daniel looked at his mother–a woman who had never cried, who had commanded every room she entered- pressing her hand to her mouth as tears fell silently.

“My grandson,” she whispered. “He doesn’t remember-”

“We’ll continue monitoring,” Dr. Emily said gently. “Running cognitive assessments as he recovers. Working with a neuropsychologist to support memory retrieval. But for now, the most important thing is to reduce stress and allow his brain to heal naturally.”

She looked at each of them in turn.

“Don’t force memories. Don’t overwhelm him with information. Let him lead. Answer his questions honestly but simply. And understand that the person he was before the injury and the person he becomes afterward may not be exactly the same.”

The meeting ended.

They walked out in silence.

In the corridor, Margaret excused herself to the restroom, her voice unsteady.

Daniel and Clarissa stood alone.

“This is terrible,” Clarissa said. But there was something in her voice. Something that didn’t quite match her words.

Daniel turned to look at her.

Clarissa’s face showed concern. And strain. But it wasn’t that which unsettled Daniel.

Daniel was thinking about Alina’s reaction. What would he tell Alina about Junior? About all of this?

He was certain she would be devastated.

Clarissa glanced at Daniel, lost in thought. Slowly, she drew a quiet breath of relief.

She was relieved, too, that Junior didn’t remember Alina.

Silently, she smiled. Calculated. Strategic.

Clarissa saw an opportunity in all of this.

At the mansion, night had fallen with a particular darkness that comes before a storm.

Alina sat near her window, phone in hand, staring at the unanswered messages she had sent Daniel hours ago.

How is Junior doing?

Please tell me he’s okay.

Daniel, please answer.

All delivered. None read.

2/4

+25 Bonus

She had tried calling twice. Both went to voicemail.

The silence was worse than any answer could have been.

Mrs. Helen had not yet returned from her errand either. The large house felt emptier than usual. More hollow.

Alina stood, pacing toward the door, considering going downstairs.

But the guard was still posted in the corridor. Still watching.

She returned to the window.

Praying without words because words felt inadequate for the fear that was suffocating her.

Junior had regained consciousness. That was good. That meant he was recovering.

But why wasn’t Daniel answering?

What weren’t they telling her?

The sound of a car in the driveway made her pulse spike.

She leaned closer to the glass.

Not Daniel’s Mercedes.

Mrs. Helen’s sedan.

The older woman stepped out, moving toward the staff entrance with a stride that felt strange. Too fast. Too

urgent.

Several minutes passed.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify