Chapter 394 - 396: A Troubled Mind

The smell of disinfectant lingered in the air. Adrian Lancaster closed his eyes slightly. His heart felt as if it were being squeezed by an invisible hand, a suffocating ache that sparked a wave of panic.

A sentence echoed relentlessly in his mind: "She doesn’t love you at all. Her heart belongs to another man."

Every word, every syllable, hammered into his fractured memories, unleashing a turbulent storm within him.

Adrian Lancaster couldn’t remember what had happened in the past. The only thing etched into his very bones was his reliance on and devotion to Wren Sutton.

It was she who had stayed by his bedside, caring for him and keeping him company, day after day.

The tenderness and worry in her eyes were so real.

When she held his hand, the warmth from her palm brought him a sense of peace.

In his blank world, Wren Sutton was the only light, the person he instinctively wanted to be near, to protect.

This bone-deep familiarity and trust didn’t need memories for proof.

But the words his "cousin" had just spoken were like a tiny, poisoned thorn that had lodged itself in his heart.

’Is it really true?’

Adrian Lancaster’s eyes snapped open, emotions churning within them. His thin lips pressed into a cold, hard line.

He refused to believe it!

The woman who was so gentle and affectionate with him, whose eyes were always filled with him and him alone, could never be a two-timing liar.

"Impossible. My wife isn’t that kind of person. She loves me. Her heart is mine, it’s always been mine. She only loves me..."

Adrian Lancaster’s head suddenly began to throb. The harder he tried to recall the past, the more intense the pain became.

Once the seed of suspicion is planted, it grows roots and sprouts with terrifying speed.

No matter how hard Adrian Lancaster tried to suppress it, he couldn’t quell the doubt festering in his heart.

He began to replay every glance, every movement Wren Sutton had made over the past few days, searching for the slightest hint of falsehood or pretense.

’Is it because I’ve lost my memory that I can’t see her true heart? Am I being fooled by this facade of gentleness?’

"No, it’s not like that..."

Adrian Lancaster shook his head forcefully, his expression pained, his mind a battlefield of agonizing turmoil.

"I can’t doubt my wife just because of what someone said. She’d be devastated if she found out."

"But..."

Reason told him not to believe it so easily, but his emotions couldn’t help but doubt.

Two completely different attitudes were locked in a tug-of-war within Adrian Lancaster’s mind.

He slammed a fist against his own head, trying to drive out those piercing words.

"No one was here. I didn’t hear anything..."

Adrian Lancaster murmured under his breath. He didn’t pull the punch, and his fist struck his temple, sending a dull ache through his skull.

His blank memories were already fragile; they couldn’t withstand such deliberate provocation and stimulus.

The hospital room was exceptionally quiet, a silence so profound it felt oppressive.

Adrian Lancaster tried not to think about Claire Bennett’s words.

He desperately tried to picture Wren Sutton’s face, to recall her soft-spoken reminders, the look in her eyes...

But the poisoned thorn was embedded too deep.

The more he deliberately tried to suppress and forget, the clearer it all became.

Adrian Lancaster leaned against the headboard, his back ramrod straight, a chill slowly seeping through him.

He had no past memories to give him confidence. All his certainty stemmed from the instincts developed during their recent time together.

’But what if everything beyond that instinct is just a lie?’

The moment the thought surfaced, a chill ran down his spine.

He didn’t dare to dwell on it, yet he couldn’t stop himself from speculating.

A thin crack silently split open in his once stable and peaceful heart.

...

Claire Bennett walked out of the hospital room and closed the door, a cold, triumphant smirk playing on her lips.

Not daring to linger, she left quickly.

The elevator descended smoothly, the floor numbers changing one by one.

A soft DING sounded as the elevator doors slid open.

Claire Bennett casually straightened the hem of her clothes and stepped out, her eyes lowered, looking straight ahead.

Just as she stepped out of the elevator, a poised and graceful figure happened to be walking slowly toward her.

It was Claire Sterling.

She wore a perfectly tailored, light gray knit suit, her hair immaculately styled. She exuded the unique, elegant aura of a wealthy matriarch.

They were so close that they couldn’t avoid each other, and could only turn sideways to brush past.

There were no words exchanged, no direct eye contact—only the subtle sensation of fabric brushing against fabric.

Claire Bennett’s entire body tensed. Her jaw was clenched tight, and she subconsciously held her breath.

She could clearly feel the oppressive aura radiating from the person beside her. Keeping her head down the entire time, she deliberately avoided the other woman’s gaze and quickened her pace, desperate to escape.

Just then, Claire Sterling’s placid expression faltered.

She instinctively stopped and turned, her gaze falling on the hastily retreating figure.

The not-particularly-tall frame, the curve of the shoulders while walking, even the slightly bowed head—it all inexplicably stirred a long-buried memory within her.

A sense of familiarity quietly emerged.

’That silhouette...’

It bore a striking resemblance to the Maya Marshall she remembered.

Claire Sterling stood frozen until the familiar silhouette had completely vanished from sight, only then did she snap back to her senses.

Claire Sterling shook her head, feeling ridiculous.

’How could that person have been Maya Marshall? It was just a stranger, a coincidental resemblance in figure, that’s all.’

Claire Sterling averted her gaze, shaking off the fleeting trance. She smoothed her brow, turned, and, forgetting the minor, unexpected incident, calmly stepped into the elevator.

Meanwhile, Claire Bennett quickened her pace and walked out of the hospital lobby.

Nervous and guilt-ridden, a thin layer of sweat broke out on her back. Her body remained tense, and she didn’t dare to look back as she headed straight for the parking lot.

Once inside her car, she confirmed that Claire Sterling hadn’t followed her and finally let out a sigh of relief.

’That was a close call today. Thank goodness I didn’t run into Claire Sterling at the door to the room.’

’Thank goodness Claire Sterling didn’t recognize me at the elevator.’

’Otherwise, the consequences would have been unthinkable.’

’It seems fate is on my side.’

...

The elevator reached the top floor. Claire Sterling stepped out, carrying an exquisite insulated food container.

The caregiver saw her arrive, greeted her respectfully, and then tactfully left the room again.

"Adrian."

Claire Sterling walked to the bedside, her eyes filled with motherly love.

"How are you feeling today? Are you uncomfortable anywhere?"

Adrian Lancaster’s eyes had been downcast, still trapped in his complex emotions. Hearing her voice, he slowly looked up.

The moment he saw Claire Sterling, the gloomy aura surrounding him dissipated somewhat.

There was no wariness or distance; the instinct in his blood told him that the person before him was his mother.

But his mind was a complete blank, devoid of any specific memories of them together.

So, a lump formed in Adrian Lancaster’s throat. His lips moved, but he couldn’t bring himself to utter that familiar yet foreign word, "Mom."

Claire Sterling understood the meaning in her son’s eyes. She wasn’t angry, nor did she press him. Instead, she smiled warmly and placed the food container on the bedside table.

"I made some yam, corn, and pork rib soup at home, along with a few light side dishes. They’re all your favorites."

As she spoke, she prepared to ladle out some soup to feed Adrian Lancaster.

It wasn’t that Adrian Lancaster was trying to be difficult or disrespectful; he truly had no appetite right now.

"I’m not hungry right now. I’ll have it later."

Claire Sterling paused, didn’t insist, and smilingly put the bowl and spoon back down.

"Alright. You can have it whenever you feel like it."

The room fell silent.

Claire Sterling didn’t mention the soup again and instead asked about Adrian Lancaster’s physical condition.

"You have some color in your cheeks today. You’re recovering well. Do your wounds still hurt?"

Adrian Lancaster answered patiently, "My body doesn’t hurt much. It’s just that my head feels groggy sometimes."

"Take it slow. There’s no rush." Claire Sterling soothed him with a pained heart, offering encouragement. "Just follow the doctor’s treatment plan. You’ll get better."

Adrian Lancaster nodded and said, a little sheepishly, "Thank you."

"Silly boy, there’s no need to be so polite with your mother. If you want to thank someone, you should thank Wren. She’s the one who has given the most while you’ve been incapacitated. She’s also endured the most gossip."

"She was the one who came up with all the clever ways to wake you up. It wasn’t easy for her."

At the mention of Wren Sutton, Adrian Lancaster’s gaze softened even more.

But that inexplicable unease and confusion also surged up, leaving him deeply unsettled.

After much hesitation, Adrian Lancaster finally mustered his courage and cautiously broached the subject.

"I want to ask you something."

Claire Sterling, of course, had no objection. A gleam of light flashed in her eyes.

"Go ahead. You can ask me anything. As long as I know the answer, I’ll tell you."

Adrian Lancaster looked out the window, his expression becoming inscrutable.

"Did Wren and I... ever talk about getting a divorce?"