When He Remembered Me

I saved amnesiac Holt Thornton and worked myself to the bone for three years to support him.

But after he recovered his memories, he called me a gold-digger who seduced him for money.

He let his lover force liquor down my throat, personally signed the papers, and bulldozed the home where we'd survived together.

After that fiasco, I had a gastric hemorrhage and lost two-thirds of my stomach. I left with nothing and fled far away.

Later, when he learned the truth, he knelt before me with red-rimmed eyes, telling me over and over that he loved me, begging me to come back.

I only calmly threw him a medical diagnosis.

It said I was dying.

Sage's POV

San Diego nights were always dazzlingly glamorous, enough to make your head spin.

I stood in the most inconspicuous corner of the ballroom, like an out-of-place intruder.

I wore a black evening gown that Holt Thornton had casually told his assistant to buy an hour ago.

The size was one size too big, the neckline somewhat loose.

But I could only hunch my shoulders slightly, trying hard to minimize my presence.

Under the crystal chandelier not far away, Holt was surrounded by a group of business executives.

His impeccably tailored cold gray custom suit made his already superior physique look even more striking.

He stood with one hand in his pocket, fingers holding a wine glass, occasionally lowering his head to listen to the woman beside him speak, his lips curling into an extremely faint arc.

The woman standing next to him was the only daughter of the Davis Corporation, Melanie Davis.

She wore the latest custom starlight dress of the season, and the diamond necklace around her neck refracted light that stung my eyes.

A perfect match of talent and beauty, made for each other.

This was the phrase I'd heard most tonight.

"Holt, you've had a bit too much to drink tonight."

Melanie's voice was soft and delicate as she naturally reached out to straighten Holt's tie.

Holt didn't dodge.

He even lowered his head, allowing Melanie's movements.

In that instant, my heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, even breathing pulled at raw flesh with pain.

I unconsciously took a step forward.

My high heels clicked on the polished marble floor, making a light sound.

The people around stopped their conversations, their gazes falling on me.

Melanie turned her head, and when she saw me, a flash of unconcealed contempt crossed her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a gentle smile.

"And this is..."

Melanie looked at Holt with feigned confusion.

The smile on Holt's face instantly faded.

He looked up at me, his eyes cold as ice, as if looking at a thoughtless subordinate.

"An assistant."

His thin lips parted, uttering those words.

"An assistant." The word shattered three years of our bond into pieces.

I froze in place, my blood turning cold inch by inch.

I was his assistant.

Yes, ever since he recovered his memory and became the high and mighty head of the Thornton family again, I'd become his invisible household assistant.

"Oh, just an assistant."

Melanie smiled meaningfully, picking up a glass of red wine and walking toward me.

"You worked hard taking care of Holt tonight. This drink is for you."

She held out the wine glass.

I bit my lower lip, about to reach for it.

"Oh my!"

Melanie suddenly cried out, her wrist tilting, spilling the entire glass of red wine on my ill-fitting black dress.

The liquid ran down my chest, utterly humiliating.

A few drops also splattered on Melanie's dress.

"Why are you so careless?"

Melanie frowned, her tone full of grievance.

"This is the dress Holt specially had flown in from Paris for me."

I jerked my head up.

"I didn't touch you at all!"

"Enough."

An icy voice crashed down from above, carrying undeniable authority.

Holt strode over, pulling Melanie behind him, his brow furrowed as he stared at me.

"Holt, I think her nail scratched the back of my hand. It hurts a little."

Melanie nestled behind him, murmuring softly.

Holt looked down, seeing an extremely faint red mark on Melanie's pale hand, and the temperature around him instantly dropped to freezing.

He raised his head, looking at me like I was a vicious criminal.

"Apologize."

He commanded.

"I didn't push her, and I didn't scratch her. She spilled the wine on me herself!"

I clenched my dress tightly.

"Sage, I told you to apologize."

Holt's voice lowered a few degrees, dripping with impatience.

"Don't embarrass me in a place like this. Where are your manners?"

Embarrassing. Manners.

These words carved into my heart like knives.

I looked at this cold, handsome man before me.

He'd forgotten.

Three years ago, when he'd injured his brain, penniless and starving, collapsed at my rental apartment door, it was this "ill-mannered" woman who fed him the last spoonful of hot soup.

Now, he stood high above, and I'd become the embarrassing stain.

I gave a bitter laugh, closed my eyes, and forced back the tears.

"I'm sorry, Miss Davis."

With that, I turned and walked out of the ballroom step by step under everyone's mocking gazes.

Without looking back.

Sage's POV

In late autumn San Diego, a torrential rain poured down.

I had no umbrella and no car.

Holt's drivers were all outside the ballroom waiting to pick him up with Melanie.

I could only brave the rain, walking mechanically forward.

The rain hammered my body, bone-chillingly cold, yet it couldn't match the coldness in my heart.

My heel twisted in a puddle, and a sharp pain shot through my ankle.

I stumbled and fell heavily onto the muddy sidewalk.

My palms scraped raw, mixing with rainwater, the pain drilling to the bone.

I lay on the ground, suddenly lacking the strength to get up.

It was also a rainy day.

Three years ago, on that thunderstorm night, the roof of our little attic leaked, water flooding the floor.

It was the second month after I'd brought Holt home.

He couldn't remember anything, only knew his name was Evan.

That night, I also twisted my ankle while going downstairs to buy instant noodles, falling into the mud and crying.

This man who didn't even own a decent set of clothes, not even holding an umbrella, rushed downstairs like crazy, pulled me from the muddy water, and held me tightly in his arms.

"Don't be afraid, Sage. Evan's here. Evan will carry you home."

He carried me on his broad back, rainwater dripping from his strong jawline.

He walked very steadily.

That day he said.

"Sage, whenever it rains from now on, I'll never let you walk a single step. I'll be your legs."

Later, to buy me a box of imported medicine for my foot injury, he washed dishes at a restaurant for three days until his hands were raw and swollen.

I cried from heartache, but he just smiled and kissed my eyes.

"As long as Sage doesn't hurt, I can endure anything."

The warmth of that memory was scorching, making reality that much colder.

I don't know how long I sat in the rain, until a black sedan sped past me.

The wheels ran through a puddle, splashing me with dirty water.

By the dim streetlight, I made out the license plate.

It was Holt's car.

Through the half-lowered window, Melanie leaned on his shoulder as he turned his head to listen to her speak, his profile showing a gentleness he'd never given me.

He didn't even glance toward the roadside.

Naturally, he didn't see me lying there.

I suddenly laughed, tears mixing with rainwater streaming down.

Dead.

My Evan had died the day he recovered his memory, in that shabby attic.

The one alive now was the high and mighty CEO of Thornton Corporation, Holt Thornton.

When I limped back to the villa, it was already two in the morning.

This mansion covering several thousand square feet on the hillside felt as empty as a gorgeous tomb.

I didn't even turn on the lights, fumbling my way to the bathroom in the dark, rinsing my numb, frozen body with hot water.

Water flowed over my collarbone.

Below it was a very deep scar.

It was left when Evan saved me, taking a thug's knife meant for me.

Back then he held me, blood flowing endlessly, yet still comforted me.

"Sage, I'll keep this scar, so even if you try to run away, you'll remember me when you see it."

Now, the scar remained, but the person had changed.

After showering, I curled up on the large bed, forcing myself to close my eyes.

I don't know how much time passed before the bedroom door was violently pushed open.

A man reeking of alcohol and faintly of perfume walked in.

Holt yanked off his tie and pressed down on me directly.

He didn't turn on the light, his movements rough without a trace of tenderness.

"It hurts..."

I frowned, reaching up to push him away.

But Holt grabbed my wrists, pinning them firmly above my head.

His warm breath sprayed against my neck as he spoke with icy cruelty.

"Why did you make a scene at the banquet tonight? Isn't the money I usually give you enough?"

My heart stopped beating.

In the darkness, I opened my eyes wide.

"Holt, you think I did it for money?"

Holt gave a cold laugh, lowering his head to bite my collarbone, right where that scar was.

"What else? When you kept an amnesiac me all those years ago, wasn't it because you saw that million-dollar watch on me, calculating that my identity must be wealthy or noble?"

A roaring sound filled my head.

I felt something in my brain completely explode.

Sage's POV

I never imagined that in Holt's heart, my saving him three years ago was a calculated investment.

"That watch... you had a high fever and got sick. I sold it to pay your hospital bill."

My voice trembled.

"The buyer said it was a fake watch and only gave me two hundred dollars. That day, I donated four hundred milliliters of blood to scrape together your medical expenses."

In the darkness, Holt's movements suddenly stopped.

But his voice quickly grew even colder.

"Enough. Stop bringing up those old things to emphasize your contributions. These three years, the material compensation I've given you could buy you a hundred of those dumps."

Old things.

Those three years of struggling through life and death together, in his eyes, had become dismissible old things.

He had no foreplay, possessing me almost like a punishment.

I bit down hard on the pillow, not letting out a single whimper.

I stared at the ceiling with open eyes.

In this sexual encounter, there was only release, no love.

After it was over, Holt got up and went to the bathroom.

The sound of running water started.

I lay on the bed, my whole body aching.

On the nightstand, Holt's phone suddenly lit up.

It was a message.

The screen wasn't locked, and the message popped up directly.

Melanie: "Holt, I've already had people release tonight's media statement. Your mother loves the buzz about our engagement. Get some rest early."

Immediately following was a design sketch.

It was a draft of custom wedding rings from a top-tier brand.

I stared at the glaring word "engagement," my stomach churning, and suddenly leaned over the edge of the bed retching.

Holt walked out from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, frowning at me.

"What now?"

His tone carried undisguised impatience.

"If you're not feeling well, go find the housekeeper to get you medicine. Don't play pitiful in front of me."

I raised my head.

I pointed at the lit phone screen.

"You're getting engaged?"

Holt followed my finger, his expression darkening imperceptibly.

But he quickly regained his cold demeanor.

He walked over to pick up his phone, saying flatly.

"Just a business marriage. It's just a publicity stunt for the two families' cooperation, to reassure shareholders. You don't understand these things, so don't ask."

"I don't understand?"

I laughed.

"Holt Thornton, I don't understand. I don't understand why, if you're marrying her, you still keep me locked in this cage. Why did you watch her humiliate me tonight?"

"Sage!"

Holt's eyes turned completely cold.

"Don't forget your position. I let you live in this villa, gave you a life of luxury. You should know your place. Don't compare yourself to Melanie. You can't compare."

You can't compare.

Yes, what could I compare with?

She was a wealthy heiress; I was just a poor woman struggling in the mud at the bottom.

"Fine."

I suddenly calmed down, looking into Holt's eyes.

"I understand."

I stopped arguing, stopped making a fuss.

He didn't say anything more, turning to go to the adjacent guest bedroom.

The next morning, Holt left early for the office.

I'd just started toward the kitchen to pour some water when I heard the butler respectfully open the door.

"Madam, you're here."

Holt's mother Mrs Thornton walked in wearing haute couture, escorted by two bodyguards.

Seeing me in my thin nightgown, her eyes filled with extreme disgust.

She walked straight to the sofa and sat down, coldly surveying me.

"Sit. I'm here today to inform you."

Mrs Thornton threw a document on the coffee table.

I didn't sit, only stared at the document.

"Tomorrow, Holt will officially announce his engagement to the Davis family's daughter. I don't want a stain like you existing in the Thornton family's territory."

Her tone was condescending, like dismissing a beggar.

If it were before, I would have firmly told her: I'm with him not for money, and unless he personally tells me to leave, I won't go.

But now, I just stood there quietly.

Mrs Thornton sneered.

"Don't expect Holt to protect you either. You really think he still cares about you? He just doesn't want to dirty his hands getting rid of you. Take a look at this agreement."

Sage's POV

I stepped forward and opened the agreement.

Every word on it crushed what little dignity I had left.

"The old city district in the south has already been acquired by Thornton Corporation. Demolition starts tomorrow."

Mrs Thornton toyed with the ring on her finger, her tone casual yet cutting with every word.

"That dump you lived in for three years is on the first batch demolition list."

I jerked my head up.

"That house... is our last memory."

That thirty-square-meter old house.

It had the shelf Evan had nailed up for me with his own hands, the secondhand sofa we'd saved up to buy, and on the wall was the height chart Evan had drawn bit by bit with a pencil for both of us.

That was my only home left in this world.

"Memory?"

She looked like she'd heard the biggest joke.

"You used that filthy pigsty to hold my Thornton heir hostage for three years of his youth. You think that's a memory? I think it's the Thornton family's greatest shame!"

Mrs Thornton's eyes suddenly turned vicious.

"Sign this voluntary departure statement, take this fifty million, and disappear from Holt's world forever. That ruin I can decide to leave standing."

"If you still won't leave..."

She stood up, looking down at me from above.

"Not only that house, but you won't survive in this city at all."

I stared hard at the document on the coffee table.

My fingers trembled violently.

My last shred of resistance was crumbling.

I didn't want to take this money, but even more, I couldn't let the last traces of "Evan's" existence be crushed by bulldozers.

"Fine."

After a long while, I heard my hoarse voice speak.

"I'll sign. But I don't want the money. Please don't demolish the house."

Mrs Thornton was clearly stunned for a moment, then pushed the agreement in front of me, her face full of mockery.

"At least you know what's good for you."

After shakily signing "Sage" on the document, she left with her people in a grand procession.

The villa returned to deathly silence.

I looked at the calendar.

Today was Wednesday.

Tomorrow, Holt would announce his engagement.

I took a deep breath, changed into clean clothes, grabbed my bag, and left.

I wanted to see Holt one last time.

Not to beg him to stay, just to say a complete goodbye.

I took a cab to Thornton Corporation.

The towering skyscraper reached into the clouds. This was Holt's kingdom now.

I walked to the front desk and said softly.

"I'd like to see Mr. Thornton."

The receptionist looked me up and down.

"Do you have an appointment?"

She asked coldly.

"No... could you please make a call for me? Just say it's Sage..."

"I'm sorry, too many women come every day pretending to look for Mr. Thornton."

The receptionist cut me off without mercy.

"No appointment, no entry. Security, please escort this woman out."

I was forcefully pushed out by security.

Just as I was being pushed through the revolving door, a group of bodyguards in suits cleared the way, and Holt walked out of the private elevator.

Beside him were not only executives but also Melanie.

"Holt, shall we go try on wedding dresses this Friday?"

Melanie held his arm, her face radiant with smiles.

Holt nodded slightly. Though his expression was indifferent, he didn't refuse.

He looked up and inadvertently caught sight of me being shoved outside the glass doors by security.

Our eyes met.

I hoped he would stop.

But Holt's brow instantly furrowed.

He said something in a low voice to his special assistant Jeff, then escorted Melanie through the VIP passage on the other side and directly got in the car.

Not even a second's pause.

Jeff hurried out and stopped me as I tried to move forward.

"Miss Sage."

The assistant's tone was businesslike and cold.

"Mr. Thornton says don't run around everywhere embarrassing yourself. He has an important business dinner tonight and asks you to go home first."

Embarrassing.

This was Holt's only evaluation of me now.

I watched that sedan drive away, and finally cried.

I didn't go home.

I went to the old city district in the south.

Sage's POV

The old district was cordoned off with warning tape.

I bypassed the tape and climbed up that familiar, dilapidated building.

I reached the familiar door number and had just taken out my key to unlock it.

The enormous roar of excavators sounded outside the building.

I ran to the window in terror and looked down.

Several large excavators were leveling this area.

"Wait! There's someone inside!"

I shouted down at them.

But the machinery was too loud. No one could hear me.

Half of this building's load-bearing walls had already been knocked down, and the entire structure was shaking violently.

Glass shattered, dust filled the air.

These people weren't starting tomorrow at all. They'd come early today to clear the site!

Mrs Thornton had lied to me.

Even though I'd signed, she'd never planned to preserve this "Thornton family disgrace."

"Don't demolish it! Don't demolish it!"

I ran downstairs like mad, rushing in front of the excavator and spreading my arms to block it.

The lead worker was startled, quickly stopped the machine, got out, and cursed.

"Crazy woman, you want to die? Thornton Corporation bought this land ages ago. It has to be leveled today!"

"This is my home!"

I screamed.

"What home? You don't even have a property deed. Get lost!"

The workers came up to drag me away.

I clung desperately to a pillar and took out my phone.

At a time like this, the only person I could call for help was the owner of this land.

I dialed Holt's number.

Once, he hung up.

Twice, he hung up.

On the third try, the call finally connected.

Only it wasn't Holt's voice on the other end.

"Hello?"

Melanie's coquettish voice came through the receiver, with a hint of lazy displeasure at being disturbed.

"Holt's in the shower. Miss Sage, be tactful and don't call at a time like this to spoil the mood."

My brain buzzed, going completely blank.

He was at the office this afternoon, and at seven in the evening they were showering.

What kind of shower, it was obvious.

Overwhelming despair flooded over me like a tide.

I clutched my phone tightly.

"Melanie, give the phone to Holt, please... help me give him the phone! Thornton Corporation is demolishing the south district houses, and my things are inside!"

"Oh, the south district house."

Melanie laughed lightly on the other end.

"That was his mother's idea. But Holt also signed the approval just now. After all, trash from that kind of slum really doesn't deserve to exist."

Trash.

The shelf Evan made with his own hands, the height chart Evan drew.

The time we spent keeping each other warm was trash.

"He knew..."

I murmured, tears quietly streaming down.

"He actually knew everything..."

The call was mercilessly disconnected.

The workers lost patience, yanked me aside, and roughly pushed me to the ground.

"Stop wasting time. Start work!"

With a tremendous crash, the small attic that held all my love and hope from three years collapsed under the excavator's swing.

In the dust cloud, I lay on the ground.

For a moment, I felt my heart had also shattered with this building into fragments, buried in the rubble.

I had nothing left.

When I left that ruins, the sky had turned completely dark.

I walked home in a daze, dragging my feet.

My phone vibrated.

It was a text from the assistant:

"Miss Sage, Mr. Thornton is at Nightshade Club in VIP room 888. He wants you to change clothes and come immediately."

I looked at the words on the screen without saying anything.

I didn't change clothes.

I just wore those clothes covered in dirt and dust, put on flat shoes, and took a cab to "Nightshade."

Sage's POV

The moment I pushed open the private room door.

The noise inside came to an abrupt halt.

Everyone's eyes fell on me.

Holt sat on the black leather sofa in the center.

The lighting in the room was dim and ambiguous.

His shirt collar was slightly open, sleeves rolled to his forearms, fingertips holding a half-burned cigarette.

Melanie nestled obediently at his side, holding a glass of fruit wine.

Seeing me, Holt's brow visibly furrowed.

"What the hell happened to you?"

His tone was full of disgust, without a trace of concern.

I stood in the doorway looking at him.

After a long while, I asked in a hoarse voice.

"You signed to have the house in the south district demolished. Is that right?"

The people in the room exchanged glances, the atmosphere instantly freezing.

Holt stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, looking at me coldly.

"That dump should have been torn down ages ago. Didn't Mom give you compensation? Don't be so greedy."

"Dump..."

I laughed.

It looked worse than crying.

"That was your favorite place to be! In winter when the wind came through, you'd hold me in your arms all night; in summer with no air conditioning, you'd fan me all night long!"

My voice grew louder and louder, my emotions teetering on the edge of collapse.

"Holt Thornton, that was our home! How could you... how could you destroy it like garbage!"

"Shut up!"

Holt's face turned iron-gray as he stood up abruptly.

The men around didn't dare breathe.

"Holt, don't be angry."

Melanie stood up at just the right moment, grabbing Holt's arm, then turned to look at me, her eyes full of malicious provocation.

"Miss Sage, the past is the past. Holt is going to be the Thornton family head now. How can he keep such an unseemly past?"

She poured a full glass of liquor.

It was high-proof vodka mixed with red wine.

"Since you're here, have a drink."

Melanie held the glass in front of me.

"I heard Miss Sage has a bad stomach, but everyone here is someone of status. Miss Sage should at least give us this much face, right?"

Everyone was watching me.

I had severe gastric ulcers.

Three years ago, to treat Holt, I worked three jobs a day, often eating only one piece of bread all day, and ruined my stomach.

During one gastric hemorrhage episode, Evan knelt outside the emergency room crying and slapping himself, swearing he'd never let me touch alcohol again.

I turned to look at Holt.

"Do you want me to drink too?"

If he just said one word, don't drink.

I would forgive him for destroying the house today.

But Holt only coldly averted his gaze, sat back down on the sofa, and picked up a glass of wine to swirl it.

"Melanie poured you a drink. That's doing you a favor. Drink it and get lost. Don't kill everyone's mood here."

The last steel wire hanging over the cliff snapped.

I looked at this familiar yet strange face.

Fine.

Just fine.

I reached out and took that glass of liquor.

A flash of triumph crossed Melanie's eyes.

I tilted my head back and downed that glass of harsh liquid without even furrowing my brow.

The alcohol cut through my esophagus like a blade, landing in my already fragile stomach.

Instantly igniting a raging fire.

Bang.

I slammed the empty glass heavily on the coffee table.

A sharp, twisting pain tore through my stomach, as if something inside was ripping me apart.

Large beads of cold sweat broke out on my forehead.

But I clenched my teeth and didn't cry out.

I looked deeply at Holt one last time.

Without waiting for anyone to speak, I clutched my stomach, bent over, turned, and walked out of the private room.

The moment I turned around, Holt's fingers holding the cigarette trembled uncontrollably.

But I didn't care anymore.