Clara opened her eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling, her head pounding as though a thousand needles were piercing her skull. The blinding white of the hospital room contrasted sharply with the dark shadow looming over her. She blinked, struggling to focus, and suddenly, her gaze locked with a pair of cold, dark eyes. The man standing beside her bed radiated a frosty detachment that made her heart clench.

"The divorce agreement is here," he said curtly, dropping a stack of papers onto the bed. His voice was like a blade, sharp and cutting. "Since you’re awake, sign it."

"Divorce agreement?" Clara murmured, her voice hoarse and weak. Her mind was a foggy mess, as if she’d been asleep for an eternity. Pain shot through her temples as she tried to sit up, only for the documents to slide off the bed and onto the floor. She looked up at the man in confusion, her lips trembling.

"Who... are you?" she asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. "We... should know each other?"

The man’s expression darkened. His handsome face, framed by perfectly groomed black hair, was as cold as marble. His thin lips curled into a humorless smile. "Clara, don’t waste my time with your games."

She flinched at his tone, confusion swirling in her eyes. "I’m not playing games. I really don’t... Who are you?"

Jordan’s eyes narrowed, suspicion flashing through his gaze. He studied her intently, as if searching for some crack in her facade. "You really don’t remember anything?" he asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

Clara shook her head desperately, her hands clutching the bedsheets. The effort to recall anything was agonizing, like grasping at shadows in the dark. "I’m trying, but... it’s all blank."

For a moment, his expression flickered with something she couldn’t decipher. Then it was gone, replaced by the same cold indifference. "Enough of this," he snapped. "Sign the papers."

Before she could respond, Jordan turned on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving her bewildered and alone. Moments later, a group of doctors and nurses entered, bustling around her with clinical efficiency. She was subjected to a barrage of tests and scans, each more disorienting than the last. Finally, the verdict was delivered; amnesia.

The news hit Clara like a freight train. She stared blankly at the doctor, her mind reeling. Amnesia? How could this be happening? She had no memory of who she was, no clue about her past. All she knew was that the man who’d demanded a divorce was her husband, a fact that felt as surreal as it was devastating.

Jordan returned to the room later that evening, his presence commanding despite the tension that hung between them. Clara mustered her courage and spoke, her voice soft and hesitant. "Jordan..."

His sharp gaze snapped to hers. "What did you call me?"

She faltered under his scrutiny. "I... I don’t know what else to call you."

A bitter smile tugged at his lips. "Don’t bother. Just sign the agreement."

Tears pricked at her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "Please, I’m injured and scared. Can’t we talk about this later?"

His eyes hardened. "Everyone knows you cheated on me, Clara. The divorce is happening."

Her breath caught in her throat. "Cheated? No, I... I wouldn’t..."

"Save it," he interrupted coldly. "You’re getting nothing. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To walk away with nothing?"

Clara’s heart ached at the venom in his words. She shook her head, her voice trembling. "I don’t remember anything, but I know I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t hurt you."

Jordan’s laughter was devoid of humor. "Spare me the act, Clara."

He left without another word, the door slamming shut behind him. Clara’s chest tightened as despair washed over her. She was trapped in a nightmare with no way out.

The days dragged on in the hospital, each one more isolating than the last. Jordan visited only to reiterate his demands for a divorce, his demeanor growing colder with each encounter. The only semblance of companionship came from a nurse and a housekeeper named Mrs. Carter, who claimed to have been sent by Jordan to care for her.

One sunny morning, Mrs. Carter entered the room with an announcement. "Mrs. Hayes, your sister is here to visit you."

Clara’s heart leaped. A sister? Perhaps she would finally get some answers. She sat up, smoothing her hair as the door opened to reveal a woman in a designer dress and sky-high heels. Her vibrant red lipstick matched the basket of pears she carried.

"Clara," the woman cooed, her tone dripping with insincerity. "How are you feeling?"

Clara frowned, taken aback by the stranger’s demeanor. "I’m sorry, but... who are you?"

The woman’s smile faltered, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. "It’s me, Emma. Your sister."

Clara’s brow furrowed. "Emma?"

Emma set the fruit basket down with a flourish. "I brought you some pears. They’re perfect for... recovery." Her smirk was anything but kind. "And I wanted to wish you and Jordan a speedy divorce."

The words were a slap in the face. Clara’s hands clenched into fists. "Emma, I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not signing those papers."

Emma’s eyes narrowed. "Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone knows Jordan has moved on. He’s taken our cousin Anna home. As soon as you’re out of the picture, they’ll be married."

Clara’s stomach churned. "Anna? Our cousin?"

Emma’s smirk widened. "Oh, didn’t you know? They’ve been inseparable."

A surge of anger rose within Clara, drowning out her confusion and fear. "If that’s true, why are you here? Shouldn’t Anna be the one rubbing it in my face? Or maybe you’re jealous that she got to him first."

Emma’s face twisted in fury. "How dare you!"

Clara’s smile was razor-sharp. "What’s the matter, Emma? Afraid your plans won’t work if I don’t play along?"

The tension in the room snapped like a taut wire. Emma lunged at Clara, her perfectly manicured nails aiming for her face. Clara fought back despite the pain in her body, her desperation fueling her strength.

"Mrs. Hayes! Miss Emma! Stop this at once!" Mrs. Carter’s voice rang out as hospital staff rushed in to separate the two women.

By the time Jordan arrived, the room was in chaos. Emma sat in a chair, dabbing at a cut on her lip, while Clara leaned against the bed, her face pale but defiant.

Jordan’s gaze swept over the scene, landing on Clara. His expression was unreadable. "What happened here?"

Clara’s eyes met his, and a spark of mischief lit up her face. "Honey, you’re just in time. Your sister-in-law came to wish us a happy divorce. Isn’t that sweet?"