Chapter 2 - The Morning He Forgot Me
The woman outside the elevator wore a black evening dress and the expression of someone who had expected to find a corpse.
I recognized her.
Naomi Price.
Chief legal officer of Cooper Global.
She stared at Leon.
Then at me.
Then at the tie.
“What happened?”
Leon didn’t answer.
Naomi stepped closer.
“Leon?”
He moved between us.
“Who told you Abigail was here?”
Naomi’s eyes narrowed.
“Who is Abigail?”
I pointed at myself.
“Unfortunately, me.”
Naomi looked genuinely confused.
Leon watched her carefully.
The security guard shifted near the wall.
His radio went silent.
“What happened to you?” Naomi asked.
“I think I was drugged.”
All color left her face.
That reaction was too fast.
Leon saw it too.
“Why aren’t you surprised?”
“I am.”
“No.”
He took one unsteady step toward her.
“You’re frightened.”
Naomi lowered her voice.
“We shouldn’t discuss this in the hallway.”
“Then answer me in the elevator.”
The guard tried to intervene.
“Mr. Cooper—”
“Leave.”
“Sir, I was instructed—”
“I own the instructions.”
The guard left.
Naomi waited until he disappeared.
Then she pressed the elevator close button.
The doors slid shut.
“Leon, there was an incident six months ago.”
He stared at her.
“What incident?”
She looked at me.
“This isn’t something we discuss with strangers.”
Leon’s answer came immediately.
“She stays.”
That surprised all three of us.
Naomi folded her arms.
“Why?”
Leon looked at me.
He didn’t seem to know.
“Because I said so.”
Classic billionaire logic.
Naomi inhaled slowly.
“Six months ago, after a charity reception in Chicago, you lost nearly four hours of memory.”
Leon’s face emptied.
“That never happened.”
“Yes, it did.”
“I would remember being told.”
“You asked us not to tell anyone.”
“I meant me.”
“You knew the next morning.”
He stared at her.
“What did the doctors say?”
“No conclusion.”
“Was I drugged?”
“They suspected it.”
“By whom?”
“We never proved anything.”
Leon looked furious.
Not because someone had drugged him.
Because the people around him had allowed him to forget.
“You hid this.”
“You ordered us to.”
“That sounds convenient.”
Naomi flinched.
He noticed.
So did I.
Suddenly my exhausted brain understood something.
This wasn’t the first time Leon Cooper had become vulnerable after a high-profile corporate event.
Someone had done this before.
Maybe more than once.
I said, “We need a hospital.”
Leon turned toward me.
“Yes.”
Naomi objected.
“We have a private physician upstairs.”
“No,” I said.
She stared at me.
“You don’t make that decision.”
“He’s potentially been poisoned.”
“He has a medical team.”
“And someone inside this building knew my name before I knew any of you.”
That shut her up.
Leon looked at me differently.
More focused now.
“Good point.”
We took a private car to St. Vincent’s under a fake name.
By 2:15 a.m., Leon was in a secured treatment room.
By 4:00, the doctors had confirmed a sedative was in his bloodstream.
Not enough to kill him.
Enough to confuse him.
Lower inhibition.
Damage short-term memory.
Make him easy to manipulate.
The police wanted statements.
Leon refused until his attorney arrived.
Naomi became his attorney.
I became the accidental witness nobody knew what to do with.
At 5:20, I fell asleep sitting in a plastic chair.
At 7:04, someone shook my shoulder.
I opened my eyes.
A man in a navy suit stood above me.
Different security guard.
“Ms. Reed?”
“Yes?”
“Mr. Cooper would like to see you.”
I stood.
My neck hurt.
My clothes looked like they had survived a small war.
I followed him into Leon’s room.
Leon sat upright in bed.
Clean shirt.
Composed face.
Cold eyes.
Completely different man.
Naomi stood near the window.
A doctor held a tablet.
Leon looked at me.
No recognition.
None.
Not even a flicker.
“Ms. Reed?”
“Yes.”
He glanced toward Naomi.
“This is the woman?”
Naomi nodded.
Leon studied me.
“I’m told you assisted me last night.”
Assisted.
That was one word for it.
“You could say that.”
“I’m told you restrained me.”
“That too.”
His eyebrow moved slightly.
“With my tie?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You were trying to take your clothes off.”
Silence.
The doctor suddenly became very interested in his tablet.
Naomi looked away.
Leon stared.
“I was what?”
“You also tried to leave the elevator.”
He rubbed his jaw.
“I don’t remember you.”
I had expected that.
Still, it felt strange.
Because I remembered everything.
The fear in his eyes.
The way he repeated my name.
The way he told me to stay behind him.
Now I was nobody.
“That’s what they said might happen.”
Leon looked at the doctor.
“Do I have any memory from midnight to two?”
“Fragments may return.”
“May?”
“We can’t guarantee it.”
His attention returned to me.
“What did I tell you?”
“Not much.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“You remembered dinner. You remembered champagne. You remembered a woman telling you to relax.”
Naomi shifted.
Leon noticed.
“Anything else?”
“You thought someone might be watching you.”
His jaw tightened.
“Did I say why?”
“No.”
“Did I name anyone?”
“David Keller.”
Naomi interrupted.
“Leon—”
He raised a hand.
She stopped.
“What did I say about David?”
“You said he was at dinner.”
“That’s all?”
“Until a guard said David ordered you brought to forty-two.”
Leon stared.
“There is no occupied forty-second floor.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“It’s under renovation.”
Naomi’s face changed.
Leon continued.
“No executives. No offices. No events.”
I looked at her.
“Then why would security take him there?”
Naomi whispered, “They wouldn’t.”
Leon pressed the call button near his bed.
His chief of security entered moments later.
Leon said, “Find the guard from last night.”
The man nodded.
“Already trying.”
“Trying?”
“He never checked in under an employee ID.”
Silence.
Leon turned to me.
“Describe him.”
I did.
Height.
Hair.
Uniform.
Radio.
Everything.
Security left.
Leon watched me.
“Ms. Reed.”
“Abigail.”
“Abigail.”
He said it cautiously.
Like the name meant something just beyond reach.
“What exactly did you do after finding me?”
“I stopped the elevator.”
“You disabled it?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“You told me where the emergency key was.”
He went still.
“What?”
“You showed me the hidden key.”
“I did?”
“Yes.”
“Very few employees know that exists.”
“I didn’t.”
His eyes sharpened.
“What else?”
“You told me the noise above us was the service hatch.”
His face changed again.
“Anything else?”
“You asked me not to leave.”
Leon looked away.
For the first time that morning, the controlled billionaire disappeared for a second.
Something human took his place.
Then Naomi’s phone rang.
She answered.
Listened.
Went pale.
“What?”
Leon’s voice was immediate.
Naomi lowered the phone.
“Security recovered the elevator footage.”
“Good.”
“No.”
Her eyes moved to me.
“It’s been edited.”
Leon got out of bed.
“Edited how?”
“Eleven minutes are missing.”
“When?”
Naomi looked at the screen.
“Before Abigail entered.”
Leon stared.
“What happened during those eleven minutes?”
“We don’t know.”
I thought of the blood on his tie.
“Maybe we do.”
I walked toward the chair where his belongings were stored inside a clear hospital bag.
His tie was there.
I pulled it out.
The red stain remained.
Naomi leaned closer.
“That isn’t Leon’s blood.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“He had no wound.”
Leon’s face went hard.
“Test it.”
By noon, I should have been home.
Instead, I sat in the private conference room of a hospital wondering how my life had become attached to a billionaire’s missing eleven minutes.
Leon stood by the window.
“Someone drugged me.”
“Yes,” I said.
“Someone edited surveillance footage.”
“Yes.”
“Someone sent a fake security officer.”
“Yes.”
“And someone knew your name.”
I nodded.
He turned.
“Which means you may not have stumbled into this by accident.”
I stared at him.
“You think I’m involved?”
“I think someone expected you.”
That was worse.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
His phone buzzed on the table.
He looked at it.
Then stopped.
“What?”
He didn’t answer.
He picked up the phone.
His face slowly drained of color.
“Leon?”
He turned the screen toward me.
A photograph filled it.
Leon and I were inside the elevator.
But not from when I had found him.
In the photo, his shirt was still buttoned.
His tie was still around his neck.
I was standing beside him.
My hand was on his arm.
We were both looking directly at the camera.
The timestamp was 11:31 p.m.
Sixteen minutes before I remembered meeting him.
I stared at the screen.
“That’s impossible.”
Leon looked at me.
“You don’t remember this?”
“No.”
“Neither do I.”
Below the photograph was a message.
Sent from Leon’s own phone.
To himself.
Four words.
TRUST ABIGAIL. NOT NAOMI.
May you like
Behind us, the conference room door opened.
Naomi walked in.
