When Love Finds Its Way Back (Cassienne and Dreston) novel Chapter 194

Chapter One Hundred And Ninety–Four: Whose Clothes Are These?

On the seventh day of the accident, Dreston was finally discharged. Inside the VIP hospital room, the final preparations were being made for his discharge.

Dreston stood beside the bed, adjusting the cuff of his shirt while glancing briefly at his reflection in the mirror across the room. The thin bandage that had once wrapped around his head was gone now. Only faint bruises remained along his temple and cheekbone, fading day by day.

Aside from that, he looked almost exactly like the man everyone knew. He looked strong, and unmistakably Dreston Tremont.

Across the room, Steve–his head of security–stood near the door, speaking quietly into his earpiece before turning toward him.

“The car is ready, sir.”

Dreston nodded.

Beside him, Joseph finished signing the final discharge documents the nurse had handed him earlier.

When the nurse left the room, Joseph folded the papers neatly and placed them on the small table.

Then he turned toward his son.

“Are you ready?”

Dreston looked around the hospital room one last time.

Seven days.

Seven strange, confusing days filled with fragments of memories that refused to connect properly.

But he had grown tired of staring at white walls. “Yeah,” he said calmly. “I’m ready.”

The ride home was quiet. No disturbance of any sort. Dreston was just by himself.

The black SUV glided smoothly through the city streets while two security vehicles followed closely behind. Steve sat in the front passenger seat, occasionally glancing into the rearview mirror to ensure everything remained secure.

Joseph sat beside Dreston in the back seat. Neither of them spoke much.

Dreston spent most of the drive watching the city pass by outside the window. Mostly buildings, traffic, and people moving through their lives.

Everything felt familiar… yet slightly distant, like watching a movie he had once seen but couldn’t fully

remember.

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Hunted And Ninety Four Whoser Zothes Are These?

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When the vehicle finally turned into the long driveway of the Tremont estate, something inside his chest tightened slightly.

The house appeared exactly the way he remembered it.

Tall white pillars. Dark glass windows reflecting the morning sunlight. Perfectly maintained gardens stretching across the front lawn.

Home.

The SUV rolled to a stop near the front entrance. Steve stepped out and opened the door.

“Welcome home, sir.”

Dreston stepped out of the vehicle slowly. Joseph followed behind him. The large front doors opened before they even reached them.

Mrs. Rawlings stood at the entrance.

The elderly housekeeper had served the Tremont family for decades, and the relief on her face was immediate when she saw him.

“Mr. Tremont,” she said warmly. “Welcome home.”

Dreston gave her a small smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Rawlings.”

He stepped inside the house.

The scent of polished wood and fresh flowers filled the air. Everything looked exactly the same as he remembered.

But just as he began walking toward the living room, Mrs. Rawlings spoke again.

“Where is Mrs. Tremont?”

Dreston stopped mid–step. The question hung in the air.

Slowly, he turned around and looked back at her. “Why do

you ask?”

Mrs. Rawlings blinked, confused by the question. “Well… she hasn’t returned since the night she received the call about your accident.”

Dreston stared at her. The words sank slowly into his mind.

Then he asked quietly, “Is Cassienne living with me again?”

This time the question was directed at his parents. Joseph and Abigail exchanged a glance.

Neither of them spoke. Mrs. Rawlings looked between them in confusion. That was when she realized something was wrong.

No one had told her about Dreston’s memory loss. The moment she saw Joseph’s expression, she

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Chapter One Hundred And Ninety–Four Whose Clothes Are These?

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understood immediately.

“Oh,” she said quickly.

“Well… dinner will be ready later this evening.”

She cleared her throat. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Then she turned and disappeared toward the kitchen, deliberately changing the subject. But the damage was already done.

Dreston didn’t say another word. He understood what had happened. They were hiding things from him again.

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