Chapter 598

Hannah's tone carried sharp insistence as she pressed on with her reasoning. "We're in Agosphia.Hudson controls this territory. If we linger any longer, his reach will close around us. We must leave before it's too late!"

Nate instantly recognized the alarm in her voice, his expression tightening as he gave a firm nod. "Yes, Ms.Scott! I'll see to it at once!"

Once Nate departed, silence reclaimed the hospital room, leaving only Hannah seated in the stillness beside Vincent's unmoving form. She remained by his side, her hand lightly clasping his fever-warmed fingers,her gaze shadowed by relentless worry.

For days, Vincent had remained trapped in unconsciousness, the fire of his fever refusing to relent. At last,when night had settled thick and quiet, the heat began to ebb.

A faint quiver moved across his lashes before his eyelids gradually lifted. His sight was blurred at first,but little by little, the outlines of the unfamiliar room sharpened before him. Acting on instinct, he shifted, only to let out a groan as searing pain from the wound in his back pinned him down.

"Vincent-you're awake?" Hannah whispered, rousing from her uneasy rest at his side.

The instant she saw his eyes open, joy leapt across her face. She leaned toward him, ready to fold him into her arms in relief.

But before she could touch him, Vincent thrust her back. The abrupt movement tore at his injury, drawing a grimace of pain. His gaze turned guarded, his voice cutting cold. "Who are you?"

Hannah froze, her joy hardening into shock. Vincent no longer knew her?

The depths of his stare carried nothing but distance and dismissal. "I don't care who you are," he continued,his tone like ice. "Get out. Now."

The alien surroundings, the sharp ache in his body, and this unfamiliar woman leaning close all drove his

anger higher. He attempted to rise, but the stab of agony forced him down again, frustration twisting his face. "Did the Jones Group collapse? Why am I in a place like this?"

Watching him strain, Hannah pressed both hands to his shoulders, her voice strained with urgency."Don't move. You've been shot in the back."

Vincent jerked her hand away, his eyes glinting with irritation. "Since when is my life youur concern? Stay out of it!"

The contempt in his glare pierced through her chest, yet she held her ground at the edge of the bed,refusing to let him strain himself. "I said you cannot move!"

Even weakened, his sharp stare radiated a dominance that weighed heavily on the air.

Meeting those hostile eyes, Hannah felt a deep ache hollow her heart. She knew her words could not break through his wall of rejection. Reluctantly, she stepped back, her voice low but steady. "Fine. I won't touch you. But you can't move in this state. I'll fetch the doctor, okay? Just stay put."

Turning swiftly, she left the room at once.

Within moments, she returned, the attending doctor and several nurses following at her heels. They surrounded Vincent, carrying out examination after examination.

Though visibly impatient, Vincent complied, his eyes stayingicy and unreadable throughout.

When the procedures ended, the doctor drew Hannah aside, his expression heavy with concern. Lowering his voice, he said, "Ms. Scott, the symptoms suggest Mr. Jones may be suffering from memory loss."

Though Hannah had braced herself, the confirmation still hit her like a weight, sinking her stomach. Clinging to a fragile hope, she asked quietly, "If he doesn't recognize me, does that mean his memory is fixed eight years back, when he was twenty-three?"

That would have been before they had crossed paths-when his temperament was at its most defiant and unreachable.

The doctor inclined his head. "Considering his confusion about both setting and identity, that seems likely. He recalls being CEO) of the Jones Group, but nothing of the last eight years."

Hannah's brows furrowed. "But the wound was in his back. How could that cause brain injury and memory loss?"

The doctor probed gently, "Did he endure a strike to the head-perhaps a fall or a blow?"

At once, memory surged back-Vincent's head slamming against the sharp edge of the speedboat before he had fallen unconscious. Her voice quickened."Yes-he struck his head!"

"Well, that clarifies it," the doctor said gravely. "The scan shows minor cerebral bleeding. The hemorrhage presses against the memory center, producing selective amnesia."

Hannah's voice trembled with urgency. "Can it heal? Will the blood clear?"

The doctor let out a weighty sigh. "That is uncertain. Absorption differs for every patient. If the blood resolves quickly, his memory could return within one to three months. But if not, it may never return."

The possibility that his memory of her might be lost forever sent an icy chill coursing through Hannah,her entire body numbing.

In a haze, she walked back toward his hospital room-only to stop short. The bed was empty. Vincent was gone! Terror jolted through her chest like a knife. Where could he have vanished, still fever-weakened and wounded? Had Hudson's men already seized him?