[Jay's POV]
The air in the mansion was becoming toxic. By the morning of Day 3, the "System" was under extreme pressure. Every time I looked at Kiara sitting in my chair, drinking from my favorite porcelain cups, and whispering into Keifer's ear, I felt a piece of my soul being deleted.
I was staying in the shadows, acting as the "Assistant," but the mask was cracking. My eyes were permanently stinging from the tears I only allowed myself to shed when Bridget was holding me behind closed doors.
The Incident: The Breakfast Breach
It happened in the sunroom. Keifer was sitting at the head of the table, looking pale and restless. His eyes kept darting to the doorway, searching for something—or someone—he couldn't name.
I walked in with a tray of his specific nutritional supplements. I knew exactly how he liked them: the water at room temperature, the tablets laid out in the order of their absorption rate.
"Here are your morning vitals, Mr. Watson," I said, my voice a flat, disciplined frequency.
I reached out to place the glass, but because I hadn't slept in seventy-two hours, my hand trembled. The glass clinked against the wood, spilling a few drops of water onto a folder of "Company History" that Kiara had been using to brainwash him.
"You clumsy, incompetent girl!" Kiara shrieked.
She stood up so fast her chair scraped harshly against the marble. She didn't just scold me; she unleashed a torrent of vitriol meant to humiliate me in front of the man who used to call me his Queen.
"Do you have any idea what you're doing? You're just a glorified maid! You've been hovering around my husband with those pathetic, red eyes since we got back from the hospital. If you can't even pour a glass of water without shaking, then get out of this house! Keifer doesn't need a broken servant distracting him from his recovery!"
The Internal Firewall
I stood there, my head bowed, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. I wanted to scream that I was the one who built this life with him. I wanted to tell her that the "husband" she was claiming was currently rejecting her touch every time he thought I wasn't looking.
But I remembered the 7-Day Protocol. I remembered the doctor's warning about Keifer's brain "short-circuiting."
"I am sorry, Mrs. Watson," I whispered, the name tasting like poison. "It won't happen again."
"It certainly won't," Kiara sneered, turning to Keifer with a fake, pouty lip. "Darling, tell her to leave. She's making the 'Atmosphere' so heavy. She's clearly unstable."
The Unexpected Defense
I waited for the blow. I waited for Keifer to dismiss me with that cold, amnesiac stare.
"Enough, Kiara."
The voice was low, sharp, and carried the ghost of the Powerhouse.
We both froze. Keifer was looking at Kiara, his blue eyes narrowing with a flash of the old, lethal CEO. He didn't look like a victim of amnesia in that moment; he looked like a judge.
"She made a mistake with a glass of water," Keifer said, his voice echoing in the quiet room. "There is no need for this level of... inaccuracy. Her eyes are red because she is exhausted from taking better care of my medical logs than anyone else in this house. She was right to bring the supplements on time. You were wrong to raise your voice."
Kiara's face turned a mottled shade of red. "Keifer! I am your wife! I am trying to protect your peace!"
"My peace isn't protected by noise," Keifer snapped. He turned his gaze to me.
The air between us charged instantly. It was that 1,000% magnetic pull again. He stared at me, his brow furrowed in a deep, agonizing concentration. I could see his brain trying to force the "Archive" open. I could see the sweat beads forming on his temple as he tried to bridge the gap between the girl in the "Staff" uniform and the girl who lived in his dreams.
The Agony of the Blank Screen
"Jay," he said, my name sounding like a plea.
I took a step closer, my heart leaping. "Yes, Keifer?"
He reached out, his hand hovering near my arm, his fingers twitching as if they wanted to pull me into him. He searched my face—tracing my eyes, my lips, the curve of my jaw—with a desperate, hungry focus.
"I know... I know the logic," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I know the files say she is my wife. I know the doctors say I had a trauma. But when you walk into the room... the static stops. When she speaks, it's just noise. When you speak, it's... it's the only thing that makes sense."
"Then remember, Keif," I breathed, a single tear escaping. "Just one memory. Think about the Velvet Couch. Think about the Glow."
Keifer gripped his head suddenly, a hiss of pain escaping his teeth. The monitors on his wrist began to beep rapidly.
"I can't!" he gasped, his eyes filling with a terrifying frustration. "I see flashes... a staircase... a black dress... but I can't find you in them! Why can't I find you?!"
The Tactical Retreat
Kiara moved in then, shoving me aside to grab his shoulders. "See? See what she does? she's triggering your episodes! Get out, Jay! Get out now!"
I didn't wait for the guards. I couldn't bear to see him in pain because of me. I turned and ran from the sunroom, stumbling into the hallway where Bridget was waiting.
I collapsed into Bridget's arms, my body heaving with sobs.
"He defended me, Bridget," I choked out. "He told her she was wrong. He felt the 'Glow'... but he still can't see me. He's right there! He's right in front of me and I can't reach him!"
Bridget held me tight, her eyes fixed on the sunroom door with a lethal glare. "He's fighting, Jay. The Hubby is fighting the Amnesia. The fact that he's choosing your 'Logic' over her 'Lies' means the system is winning. We just have to survive four more days."
I looked at the gold ring on my hand—the twin to the one he was wearing. "Four more days," I whispered. "But every hour feels like a century in the dark."