Chapter 1435:

“I don’t care how he feels right now!” Dolores barked, her face reddening. “He’s got amnesia! When he remembers, he’ll come back to me!”

A bitter laugh escaped Lowell’s lips, dry and humorless. “Amnesia, huh? Sure, let’s blame it all on that. But here’s the thing—he sees you, Dolores, and there’s nothing. No recognition, no spark, not even irritation. You’re a stranger to him.”

“Why won’t you help me?” Dolores’s voice rose, trembling with fury. Her cheeks flushed crimson, her anger spilling over like a dam breaking.

Lowell didn’t answer, his silence more cutting than words. He watched as Dolores’s breathing grew ragged, her fiery temper slowly giving way to a storm of sobs. Her rage ebbed, replaced by something quieter, more broken.

After the storm of her outburst, Dolores began to settle, the heat of her anger ebbing away like waves retreating from the shore. Slowly, clarity crept in, softening the lines of her tense face. Yet, as the fog lifted, a new tide of anguish washed over her. Clarity brought no solace—only the bitter sting of reality. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, each sob cutting deeper, carving out the hollow ache in her chest.

“I love Shaun. Can’t you see that? I’m vulnerable, Lowell. Of course, I want him here. Why is that so wrong?”

gnawed at Lowell’s patience, each sob like

reached into his pocket, fishing out his phone. He scrolled until he found a photo buried deep in his gallery. The image wasn’t much—just the edge of a woman’s waist, accidentally captured

dim lighting only hinted at her curves,

Mᴏʀᴇ ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇs ɪɴ ɢᴀʟɴᴏᴠᴇʟs.ᴄᴏᴍ

that sliver was enough. It stirred something in him, like a flame reigniting in a long-dormant hearth. Memories rushed back, vivid and

dry. They’d only met twice, yet the intensity of those encounters lingered, haunting him. She was a mystery—no phone number, no email, nothing. It was as if she’d

Lowell barely registered Dolores calling his name. She called again, then again, her voice rising in frustration. Finally, her patience snapped. With an angry flick of her

of shattering glass sharp and jarring—a

his sister’s defiant expression.

“Is that really how you’re going to talk to

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