He Called the Waitress His Wife at the Gala

CHAPTER 3 - WHAT HE WAS FORCED TO FORGET

The west garden sat beyond tall glass doors and a row of orange trees in polished bronze planters.

Clara almost turned back twice.

Matteo was already there, alone, his jacket unbuttoned, both hands gripping the stone railing as if it were the only solid thing left in the world.

When he heard her, he faced her slowly.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then he said, "I looked for you."

Clara's laugh was quiet and raw. "The dead usually don't."

Pain crossed his face. "I know how that sounds."

"Do you?" she shot back. "I buried you without a grave. I signed papers I could barely read. Your family told me there was nothing left to explain."

"My family didn't know where I was."

She stared.

Matteo took a breath. "The ferry accident happened. I survived. I hit my head badly. I couldn't remember my name for weeks. A man named Victor Salazar arranged treatment at a private clinic in Corsica."

"Salazar." She heard the name and thought at once of the blonde woman. "Her father."

He nodded. "Elise is his daughter."

Clara folded her arms tightly over herself. "And while I was mourning you, you were what? Recovering in luxury?"

His jaw tightened. "No. Recovering under control."

He stepped closer, voice lower now. "When my memory started coming back, I tried to leave. Salazar told me I had no legal documents, no proof, no money, and no way to contact anyone. He said my wife had already moved on."

Clara flinched.

"He showed me papers," Matteo said. "A notice saying you had given up your claim to our marriage."

"I signed no such thing."

"I know that now."

The garden doors opened behind them.

Elise stood there, her red dress catching the light from inside. Her face had lost its sharp pride. She looked frightened.

"My father's coming," she said. "And he brought the file."

Clara frowned. "What file?"

Elise looked at Matteo, then back at Clara.

"The one that proves who kept you apart."