The next morning, the light was harsher, more aggressive. As if the day itself wanted to remind her that time was running out. Jassy — now Alys to everyone around her — was already sitting upright in bed, her back straight, her eyes fixed on the phone screen. She had been exploring it in silence for over an hour, stitching together the fragments of a life that wasn't hers.
Every message, every photo, every name became a clue. A piece of the puzzle.
And that message — "You know exactly what he did to your sister" — kept looping in her mind.
A sister. Gone? Murdered? Betrayed by the very man Alys was about to marry? She needed more answers.
A gentle knock on the door made her look up. A young woman entered, wearing a neat beige suit, her brown hair pulled back in a strict bun. She carried a small handbag and a laptop.
— "Good morning, Alys. I'm Maude, your personal assistant."
Jassy studied her for a moment. Polite. Professional. But nervous.
— "You don't remember me, I suppose?" the woman added with an awkward smile.
— "I… no. I'm sorry."
— "That's perfectly normal. The doctor said you're suffering from partial memory loss. I'm here to help you slowly get back on track… and sort out what can wait."
Partial memory loss. The perfect cover. She decided to lean into the role fully.
— "I trust you, Maude. And I'd really appreciate your help… to find my bearings again."
Maude nodded and moved closer to the bed, opening her laptop.
— "You were supposed to sign a partnership contract with Maison Lefranc this week, finalize the Delcourt charity gala, and above all… choose your wedding dress."
Wedding. The word made her stomach turn. She said nothing. Maude hesitated briefly.
— "I can also… cancel a few meetings, if you'd prefer. Raphaël said you might need time."
Raphaël.
Always him. Always present. Too present.
— "Actually, Maude…" she said, her tone gentle but firm. "Did I usually share everything with him?"
Maude raised her eyebrows slightly, surprised.
— "Well… yes. He was very involved in your life. Maybe too much. Elisa didn't like it."
Elisa. That name rang true — sincere — in the texts.
— "Could you find Elisa's number for me? I'd like to speak with her."
— "Of course. I'll send it by text."
Jassy nodded. Things were becoming clearer. Raphaël controlled everything. And the few voices that tried to speak out had been pushed away… or silenced.
---
She called Elisa as soon as Maude left the room. Three rings. Then a breathless voice answered.
— "Alys?! Oh my God, you're awake? Are you okay?"
— "That depends. Can you come see me? I need to talk to you… privately."
A pause. Then:
— "Yes. I'll be there in an hour."
---
An hour later, a tall red-haired woman burst into the room, her movements brisk and determined. No hesitation. No mask.
— "Alys…" she whispered, emotional. "I thought I'd lost you."
Jassy hugged her briefly. It felt strange — this connection she didn't remember. But it was real. Elisa cared. And had nothing to hide.
— "I need to know. Everything."
Elisa looked at her, then sighed.
— "You've forgotten it all?"
— "Enough to doubt everyone. Except you."
So Elisa spoke.
She told her about Alys's sister, Clémence. Missing for three years, after a violent argument with Raphaël. She spoke of the silence from the Delcourt family, the pressure, the veiled threats. And Raphaël's cold, empty stare every time Alys brought up Clémence.
— "You wanted to cancel the wedding. I begged you to. You told me you were investigating. You had found something… And then… boom. The accident."
A shiver ran through Jassy.
It hadn't been an accident.
She knew it now.
— "Help me, Elisa. I need to become Alys again… and finish what she started."
Elisa looked at her for a long moment, then nodded.
— "Then let's bring them down. Every one of them."
---
By the time night fell on the hospital, Jassy had changed. She was no longer the hesitant survivor of the morning. She was a strategist. Ready to strike.
She now had an ally. A name to follow. A truth to unearth.
And a face to wear for revenge.
What they had done to her — she would return tenfold.
She sat upright in bed, her eyes cold.
The war had begun.