Chapter 3 I Am Amnesiac, Not Blind

Stephanie's POV

Sensing the tension, Isabelle stepped in to smooth things over. "The doctor said Stephanie might experience some memory confusion. Give her time to recover."

Her hand closed over mine, a gentle squeeze that felt like a silent promise of support.

"Let's go visit the old Alpha, Frank."

Bennett didn't follow us.

But I could still feel his gaze burning into my back.

Was Stephanie's obsession with him so intense before that my indifference now unsettled him this much?

At the end of the corridor, the luxury suite loomed.

Two guards stood at the door. They bowed respectfully the moment they saw us.

Isabelle nodded and knocked.

"Come in." The voice was deep but faint.

Inside, an elderly man with silver hair reclined against crisp white pillows. He looked to be in his seventies, but his eyes were still sharp and calculating.

This was Frank Lightwood, the old Alpha of the Blackwood Pack.

I curled my hands into fists, forcing myself to keep my composure.

"It's been a long time," Frank said, a faint smile lifting his lips.

His gaze shifted to me, lingering with a glint of approval.

"Stephanie is such a beautiful young woman. Pity my grandson Bennett is always so cold…"

He stopped mid-sentence, his expression tightening.

He had noticed it too — the absence of that lovesick glow Stephanie used to wear around Bennett. No shy glances, no fluttering smiles. Nothing.

"Stephanie was poisoned with silver. Her memory is a little hazy," Isabelle explained.

Frank nodded, his voice softening. "How are you feeling? Any discomfort?"

"I'm much better now. Thank you for asking," I replied politely.

The door opened again. Bennett stepped in.

He had changed into a black suit, the cut sharp against his tall, broad frame. Authority clung to him like a second skin.

Clara followed, clutching a folder to her chest. She looked ready to report something.

"Grandfather. Mrs. Valerius," Bennett greeted with formal courtesy.

His eyes slid to me, cautious, searching.

"Stephanie. Are you feeling better?"

I nodded. "Thank you for asking, Mr. Bennett Lightwood."

That distant formality again.

His brows drew together. He stepped closer, but just before he could breach my space, I shifted lightly to the side.

The air in the room tightened.

Once, Stephanie would have killed for his nearness. Now she avoided it.

Clara caught it instantly. Her eyes glinted with something unreadable.

"Stephanie, your memory really hasn't come back yet?" she asked, voice dripping with false concern.

I met her gaze, calm. "Miss Johnson, I may have lost my memory, but I'm not blind."

Her smile faltered. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean… in the hallway just now, the way you two were standing together — I may not remember much, but my eyes still work."

I tilted my head, feigning innocent curiosity.

"Mr. Frank Lightwood is sick in bed, and yet outside his room, you two were…"

I let the words trail off, leaving the rest to their imagination.

Bennett's face darkened. Clara's jaw clenched so hard I could hear her teeth grind.

Frank's gaze flicked between them, his eyes narrowing with growing anger.

Isabelle's lips pressed into a thin line, her displeasure obvious.

"Stephanie! Don't talk nonsense!" Clara snapped, her voice pitched too high.

"I was just helping Bennett straighten his suit! You're making it sound like—"

The more she explained, the guiltier she sounded. Her voice weakened.

"Oh, so I misunderstood," I said with a sweet smile. "Though… does fixing someone's suit require standing that close?"

My tone was light, almost curious. Then I added, "And Miss Johnson, why exactly did you put Bennett's hand on your chest?"

"Enough!" Frank's voice cracked like a whip, silencing the room.

His gaze swept over everyone before locking on Bennett.

"Bennett. Out. Clara, you too."

Bennett hesitated, as if to argue, but one look at Frank's thunderous expression made him think better of it. He left without a word.

Clara followed, but not before shooting me a glare sharp enough to cut.

When the door closed, Frank's tone softened.

"You did the right thing, Stephanie. Young wolves need to control themselves — especially outside their elder's sickbed."

I nodded, keeping my expression demure.

After a pause, I ventured, "Mr. Lightwood, may I ask you something?"

"What is it?" His voice was still warm, though his eyes were watchful.

"I heard… Bennett once had a fated mate?" My tone was all girlish curiosity, like I was asking about harmless gossip.

"My memory's fuzzy, but I swear I've heard the rumor before…"

The warmth in Frank's face vanished. His gaze sharpened dangerously.

Outside, footsteps stopped abruptly. Bennett was eavesdropping.

Frank's silence stretched before he spoke, his voice low. "Why are you interested in that?"

I blinked, feigning confusion. "Just curious. People say his Luna died… horribly."

A dull thud sounded from the hallway — a fist hitting the wall. Bennett had lost control.

Frank's eyes darkened further. "Some things are not meant to be discussed. Especially the dead."

I lowered my head, contrite. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be disrespectful."

Sensing the tension, Isabelle rose. "Mr. Lightwood, you should rest. We'll leave you to it."

Frank inclined his head. "Very well. We'll talk another time."

As I turned to go, I glanced back. Frank was watching me, suspicion plain in his eyes.

Out in the hall, I slowed my pace. From the corner of my eye, I saw Bennett slip into the room.

Muffled voices followed.

"Grandfather, she's… different," Bennett said, his tone laced with unease. "Stephanie never used to notice things like that. She'd never humiliate me in public."

"Silver poisoning can affect the brain," Frank replied evenly. "But this Stephanie… she's changed too much."

"What are you saying?"

A pause. Then Frank's voice dropped to a near growl.

"I'm saying… this Stephanie is not quite the same as before."