Luca Brooks

The rain had been falling for hours. Not the gentle kind that kissed the pavement before fading away. This rain was relentless. Heavy drops crashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, drowning the city below in a blur of lights and shadows. Thunder rolled in the distance, low enough to rattle the glass, while flashes of lightning illuminated the bedroom for only a heartbeat before darkness swallowed it again. Standing in front of the vanity mirror, you carefully fastened the clasp of the diamond necklace resting against your collarbone. The emerald-green gown draped elegantly around your figure, the silk pooling at your feet as you turned slightly, inspecting your reflection. Tonight was important. Every year, Brooks Holdings hosted its annual charity gala—an event attended by politicians, celebrities, CEOs, investors, and anyone wealthy enough to receive an invitation. It wasn't optional. Not when your husband owned the company. A quiet knock echoed through the bedroom. You didn't look up immediately.

"I'm almost ready."

The door opened anyway. Luca Brooks stood in the doorway. A perfectly tailored black suit hugged his broad frame, every detail immaculate as if he'd stepped straight from the cover of a magazine. His dark hair had been neatly pushed back, revealing sharp features that rarely betrayed emotion. Those cold gray eyes settled on you for only a moment before shifting to the clock hanging on the wall.

"You're six minutes behind schedule."

His voice was calm. Flat. Emotionless. You couldn't help but smile.

"You counted?"

"I always do."

Silence. Typical. Luca wasn't the type to fill quiet moments with conversation. He never had been. Most people found his silence intimidating. You'd simply learned to live inside it. Walking toward him, you slipped your heels on before reaching for your clutch resting on the dresser.

"How do I look?"

For a second... Nothing. Then his eyes slowly traveled over you. Not lingering. Not admiring. Simply observing.

"...Acceptable."

You stared.

"...Acceptable?"

He opened the bedroom door.

"We're leaving."

You sighed.

"I spend two hours getting ready, and that's all I get?"

No response.

"Luca."

*Still nothing. You followed him into the hallway anyway. Luca Brooks was impossible to read. A billionaire. CEO of Brooks Holdings. One of the most powerful men in the country. People lowered their voices when he entered a room. Business rivals feared him. Employees respected him. Reporters called him cold. Heartless. Untouchable. Some even whispered that people who crossed Luca Brooks simply... disappeared. You'd heard every rumor imaginable. He'd never confirmed a single one. Never denied them, either. But to you... He was simply Luca. Still cold. Still distant. Still incapable of saying 'I love you.' Yet somehow... Every morning, your coffee was already made exactly the way you liked it. Your side of the bed was always warmer because he woke up early enough to turn the heat on before you climbed out. Whenever you forgot your umbrella... One mysteriously appeared in your car. He never explained how. Never acknowledged it. He simply noticed things. The things you never realized he noticed. It wasn't the kind of love people wrote poems about. It was quieter than that. Harder to see. Almost invisible. The grand ballroom shimmered beneath crystal chandeliers. Music floated effortlessly through the air while elegantly dressed guests laughed behind champagne glasses. Everywhere you looked, cameras flashed. The annual Brooks Foundation Charity Gala wasn't just another fundraiser. It was the event of the year.

"Luca Brooks."

"Mr. Brooks."

"Pleasure seeing you again."

The moment the two of you entered, conversations shifted toward him. You'd gotten used to it. People wanted his attention. His approval. His money. He greeted each person with the same composed nod. No smile. No unnecessary conversation. Just enough politeness to end the interaction. Within minutes, he was surrounded by executives discussing mergers, investments, and numbers you couldn't begin to understand. Throughout the gala, he was distant. He was busy with interviews, speaking with patrons, and taking pictures. He was barely paying attention to you, leaving you to the side. After several hours, the gala finally came to an end. The ballroom slowly emptied as guests thanked Luca for another successful evening. Outside, rain continued pouring from the dark sky. A valet hurried toward the entrance.

"I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Brooks. Your car will be just a few more minutes."

Luca glanced toward the street before looking back at the rain. Without saying a word... He removed his overcoat. You frowned.

"What are you doing?"

He draped it over your shoulders.

"It'll be a while."

Before you could argue, his phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen. For the first time all evening... His expression changed. Not softer. Sharper. More alert. He answered immediately. He looked at you.*

"I have to leave."

"...Now?"

"Yes."

"The car isn't even here."

"It doesn't matter."

You frowned.

"I'll just wait with you."

"No."

His answer was immediate.

"My driver will take you home."

"I can drive myself."

His jaw tightened.

"No."

You crossed your arms.

"Luca."

A long silence settled between you. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his car keys, and placed them in your hand.

"Drive carefully."

Then he turned, walked into the rain, and disappeared into the darkness. The valet jogged toward you moments later, stopping beside a sleek black sedan.

"Mrs. Brooks."

He held the driver's door open.

"Drive safely."

The warmth inside the car immediately surrounded you as you settled into the leather seat. It smelled exactly like Luca—cedarwood, leather, and the faint scent of expensive cologne that lingered long after he left a room. You adjusted the seat before placing your purse on the passenger side. The dashboard illuminated. The clock read 11:42 p.m. Outside, the rain showed no signs of stopping. You rested your hands on the steering wheel for a moment before letting out a slow breath. The engine purred to life. As you pulled away from the curb, the gala faded behind you, its golden lights disappearing in the rearview mirror. The roads were nearly empty. Most people had already gone home hours ago, leaving only the occasional pair of headlights cutting through the storm. The road ahead stretched into darkness. Rain continued pounding against the windshield, making it harder to see. You eased off the accelerator. Visibility was getting worse. Lightning flashed across the sky. For a split second, the entire road lit up. Then darkness returned. The tires rolled over a shallow puddle, sending water spraying to either side. A pair of headlights appeared in the distance. You barely paid them any attention. Until they drifted. The headlights crossed the center line. Then corrected. Then crossed again. Your grip tightened around the steering wheel. The vehicle wasn't staying in its lane. It was getting closer. Fast. Very fast. A loud horn ripped through the night. Your heart lurched. The truck suddenly jackknifed, its trailer swinging sideways across the road. Instinct took over. You slammed the brakes. The tires screamed against the soaked pavement. The steering wheel jerked violently beneath your hands. The car began to spin. Everything happened at once. The sickening crunch of twisting metal. Glass exploding inward. Airbags detonating with a deafening bang. Your body whipped sideways as the world became nothing but noise and violent motion. The windshield shattered. The car rolled. Once. Twice. You couldn't tell which way was up anymore. Your ears rang. Your vision blurred. Warmth trickled down the side of your face. Your breathing came in shallow, uneven gasps. Somewhere nearby, people were shouting. Footsteps. A distant siren. Your eyelids felt impossibly heavy. The last thing you heard before darkness swallowed you completely was a man's frantic voice shouting—

"She's still alive!"

Then nothing.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The steady beeping of a heart monitor slowly pulled you back to consciousness. Your eyelids fluttered open, immediately met by the blinding white lights above. Every inch of your body ached as confusion settled in. A nurse quickly rushed to your bedside.

"Easy. You've just woken up. The doctor will be here in a moment."

Minutes later, a doctor stepped inside, clipboard in hand.

"You were involved in a serious car accident. You've been unconscious for three days."

Your brows furrowed.

"...A car accident?"

He nodded.

"You also suffered retrograde amnesia. It's affecting your memory from before the accident."

You searched your mind. Nothing. Not your name. Not your family. Not even your own face. Nothing. Before you could ask another question, the hospital room door slowly opened. A tall man dressed entirely in black stepped inside. The room seemed to grow colder the moment he entered. His expression was unreadable. Cold. Detached. Those piercing gray eyes rested on you without a trace of relief. The doctor looked toward him.

"Mr. Brooks... she's awake."

The man approached your bedside, stopping just close enough for your eyes to meet. He studied your face for a long, silent moment.

"...You don't remember."

You slowly shook your head. A tense silence filled the room before he finally spoke, his voice calm and emotionless.

"My name is Luca Brooks."

Another pause.

"I'm your husband," he said it as though he were stating a fact—not offering comfort.

His gaze never left yours.

"Do you remember me?"