After surviving a devastating plane crash, young billionaire Amanda awakens from a six-week coma with no memory of who she was. As she learns to navigate her new reality, she is drawn to Jack, the mysterious and kind-hearted stranger who saved her from the wreckage. With him, Amanda finds peace and love, a far cry from the life of ambition and cutthroat business dealings she once led. But just as Amanda begins to rebuild her life, flashes of her past come rushing back. She learns that her life was far more complex than she realized, with a successful business empire, a controlling ex-fiancé named Liam, and a ruthless rival, Sophia, who has always sought to destroy her. As her memories return, Amanda is thrust into a fierce battle for her identity, her company, and her heart. Caught between her past and present, Amanda must confront her feelings for Jack and Liam and make a choice about who she truly is and who she wants to become. In the end, love may be the only thing that can save her-or tear her apart.
Chapter 1 The Awakening
Amanda blended underneath the solidified, sterile sheets, her body overpowering with an abnormal sluggishness she couldn't clarify. The talk felt cool and sterile against her skin, a sharp separate to the warmth she expected to feel. Her eyes vacillated open slowly, and a blinding white light invited her. A questionable sense of disarray washed over her, but it wasn't reasonable in the unused environment. It was something more significant, something disturbing and mysterious.
She flashed rapidly, willing her eyes to modify, but it was because it made the world swim and move some time recently. Where was she? Her judgment skills got a handle on straws, but everything felt... clear. No memories came, no recognizable faces surfaced in her thoughts. Solidify began to crawl up her spine as she endeavored to survey anything-any detail roughly herself. Nothing.
Amanda compelled herself to center on the room around her. The cadenced beeping of machines has to be more unmistakable, the clinical scent of sterile filled her lungs with each shallow breath she managed to require. A mending center. She was in a clinic. The pale blue dividers were cold and impassive, the shades drawn closed. Tubes and wires wound from her arms, meddling her to machines that beeped tirelessly, watching a life she wasn't past any question had a put to her.
She swallowed, her throat dry and unrefined, as within the occasion that she'd been silent for a long time. Licking her broken lips, she endeavored to conversation, but her voice came out as a rough whisper.
"Where am I?"
A few times as of late she appeared to amass herself, the entryway opened with a calm tap. A sustain, middle-aged with kind, tired eyes, entered the room holding a clipboard. She cemented when she saw Amanda caution, her eyes broadening with stun.
"Oh my God, you're awake!" the support yelled, surging to Amanda's bedside. "Doctor! Pro, she's awake!"
Amanda is drawn back at the sharp sound of the nurse's voice, her judgment skills lazily planning the criticalness. Caution? Of course, she was awake-wasn't she persistently? But as the sustain complained over the machines, checking her vitals, Amanda couldn't shake the overpowering fog that clung to her brain. Something was off-base. Something was horrendously off-base.
A diminutive a short time later, a pro in a white coat entered, his stand up to a practiced cover of calm cleaned ability. He looked at Amanda, at that point back at the sustain, who was clarifying in speedy whispers how they had not expected her to recover mindfulness so some time recently. Amanda caught snippets-"six weeks," "coma," "miracle."
The pro moved to Amanda's side, his eyes fragile with concern but unfaltering, as on the off chance that he had done this a thousand times a few times as of late. "Amanda? Can you tune in to me?"
She motioned continuously, in show disdain toward the reality that the advancement sent a melancholy harmed through her skull. Her mouth was dry, her tongue overpowering. "Yes... I can tune in with you."
The pro groaned in lightning, exchanging a see with the sustain a few times as of late turning back to Amanda. "I'm Dr. Wilkes. You've been in an accident-a plane crash. You've been in a coma for six weeks."
A plane crash? The words hit her like a slap. Amanda's chest settled, her heart picking up speed, and the machines began to beep more desperately. She fought to handle the information. A plane crash? Six weeks? It made no sense. She racked her brain for a memory, any memory, but her judgment skills were void, dim and choking. "I... I don't remember," she whispered, her voice shaking.
Dr. Wilkes put a comforting hand on her bear. "That's not anomalous after a damage like this. Memory mishap is common, especially with head wounds. But the basic thing is, you're alarmed by and by. We'll take things steadily, step by step."
Amanda's fingers clenched at the sheets as she endeavored to consistent herself, to urge a handle on onto a couple of sense of control. "Who... who am I?" she asked, the address hanging inside the talk about like a gloomy cloud. She didn't in fact know she had a title.
Dr. Wilkes gave her a fragile smile, in show disdain toward the truth that the feeling too bad for in his eyes was unmistakable. "Your title is Amanda Hart. You're a businesswoman-quite viable, truly. There was a portion of media thought when the crash happened."
Amanda looked at him, the title exterior and expelled. Amanda Hart. It sounded viable, cleaned. But it suggested nothing to her. The title was cleanse, void of memories or sentiments. She was a businesswoman? Productive? What kind of exchange? She opened her mouth to ask, but the pro talked once more a few times as of late.
"There's some person here to see you. He's been by your side each day since the accident."
Her beat was exciting. Does anyone know her? Some person who might fill inside the cleft? Her heart hustled with a streak of belief, but as well with fear. Who was holding up for her? A companion? A family portion?
The master motioned to the sustain, who signaled and cleared out the room. Amanda endeavored to calm her breathing, her judgment skills turning with conceivable results. She tuned in to the strides outside the entryway, the sensitive mutter of voices. At that point, the entryway opened once more, and a man wandered in.
He was tall, with wide shoulders and a harsh appearance that suggested he was more recognizable with troublesome work and the exterior than sterile recuperating center rooms. His hair was gloomy, and there was a scruff of a bristles along his jaw, as if to show disdain toward the reality that he hadn't bothered shaving for a while. His significant, expressive eyes immediately blasted onto hers, and for a brief miniature, Amanda felt a bewildering drag, like a string meddling them.
"Jack," he said carefully, his voice cruel in any case comforting. "My name's Jack."
Amanda looked at him, endeavoring to put him down, but her judgment skills were still a clear slate. "Jack... do I know you?"
A streak of torment crossed his confront, in showing disdain toward the truth that he quickly hid it with a supporting smile. "We don't genuinely know each other well. I was on the plane with you when it hammered. I'm the one who found you after. Got you out of there."
Amanda's breath caught in her throat. "You saved me?"
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