Faking It With My Billionaire Husband

Chapter fourteen

I woke up slowly, my head pounding and a strange fog clouding my mind. The room was bright and sterile, the hum of machines surrounding me. For a moment, I just lay there, trying to grasp where I was, what had happened. The memories were fuzzy—car crash, hospital, Max—yet nothing felt clear. My body felt heavy, as if weighed down by a fog I couldn’t lift.

I moved my fingers, wincing at the ache in my skull. When I tried to sit up, dizziness washed over me, and I had to clamp my eyes shut to keep from tumbling over. A voice, calm and soothing, broke through the haze.

“Easy there,” it said gently.

I turned my head toward the sound and saw a woman standing at the foot of the bed. She had warm eyes and a kind smile, dressed in what looked like a nurse’s uniform. She looked familiar—yet I couldn’t place her.

“Where… where am I?” I asked, my voice hoarse and uncertain.

She stepped closer, adjusting the IV line in my arm. “You’re in the hospital, sweetheart. You had an accident, but you’re safe now. My name’s Sarah. I’m one of the nurses here. Do you remember what happened?”

Memory still teased me—car, headlights, chaos—but nothing solid. I furrowed my brow. “No. I… I don’t remember. Did I—what happened?”

Sarah’s expression softened with sympathy. “You were in a car accident. It’s normal to feel confused after head injuries. Your head was hurt, and your memory may be a little foggy for a while. But you’re alive. That’s what matters.”

I blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog from my mind. My stomach twisted with anxiety. “Where’s Max? Is he… is he okay? I need to see him.”

Her face softened even more, and she hesitated for a moment. “Max… he’s in another room. But he’s not awake right now. He’s in a coma. The doctors are doing everything they can for him.”

A cold wave of shock hit me. My legs trembled, and I reached out to grip the side of the bed, fighting to stay upright. “A coma?” I whispered, voice trembling. “No… I have to see him.”

“Wait—” Sarah reached out, but I was already swinging my legs over the side of the bed, trying to stand. My head spun violently, and I clutched at my stomach, but I couldn’t just stay here. I had to see him.

I shuffled toward the door, my heart pounding with a mixture of fear and hope. Each step felt unsteady, but I forced myself forward, pushing past the dizziness.

When I finally pushed the door open and stepped into the hallway, the sterile corridor stretched out before me. I could hear faint footsteps in the distance, but everything seemed muted, distant.

I moved down the hall, my legs unsteady beneath me. My breathing was ragged as I approached the door to the room Max was in. I hesitated for a second, then pushed it open.

Inside, I saw him—lying still, connected to all those machines that beeped softly.

I stepped inside slowly, my eyes immediately drawn to him. His face looked so calm, so fragile, and my heart ached at the sight. I moved closer, a strange mixture of relief and dread flooding my chest.

And then I saw her.

A woman sat beside him—her head resting lightly on the edge of the bed, her hand gently holding his. She looked up as I entered, her expression warm but with an edge of possessiveness. Her eyes—kind, yet oddly intense—locked onto mine.

“Max’s fiancée,” she said softly, her voice smooth but with an unmistakable tone of ownership. “And you are?”

I froze, my breath hitching. My mind scrambled to catch up, to make sense of what I was seeing. Her words, her tone—what did she mean? Max was in a coma, and this woman… she claimed to be his fiancée?

“His… fiancée?” I echoed, voice trembling. “What are you talking about? I… I don’t understand. Max—he’s never once mentioned you. We—”

She cut me off with a gentle but firm gesture, standing slowly and giving me a measured look. “No, honey. I know this all sounds confusing, but I’m his fiancée. I’ve been with him for years. We’re planning to get married soon. You’re… you’re the one who’s confused.”

My stomach twisted. My head spun again as I struggled to process what she was saying. Max, engaged? Planning to marry someone else? The words felt like a punch to the gut.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “That can’t be right. I—”

Her smile was gentle but unwavering. “I’m sorry if this is a shock. But you’ve clearly been through a lot. You don’t remember, but Max loves me. We’re meant to be. Maybe your memories are foggy right now, but the truth will come out in time.”

I backed away slowly, my mind racing. My hands trembled at my sides, clutching at the edge of the bed for support. The room felt suddenly too small, too suffocating. I looked at Max—still silent, still unresponsive—and then back at her.

“I don’t believe you,” I managed to say, voice hoarse with emotion.