"So, Arian... That's your husband's name?" Daniella said, glancing up at him with a grin.
Arian met her gaze briefly before pulling out his phone, making a call without acknowledging her further.
Meanwhile, Lynette watched the exchange with unease.
She called Daniella her friend, but the truth was different—Daniella knew her, while Lynette barely knew Daniella at all.
A strange feeling settled in her chest.
Bringing Daniella into this dimension felt like a mistake.
There were some feelings that shouldn't be ignored.
"What do we do?" Lynette asked, stepping forward.
"You'll have to stay at the guest house in the other residence. Like I said before, I'll speak to my mo—"
"Lynette," Daniella interrupted with a chuckle, her gaze sharp as she stared at her.
Her eyes darkened slightly.
Lynette stiffened.
More reason not to let her stay here.
"I thought you said you understood?" Daniella teased, chuckling again.
Lynette exhaled slowly, keeping her expression neutral.
"I'll handle my matters myself," she said, brushing past Daniella and heading toward the stairs.
Then, she turned back briefly.
"And you should take care of yours too. In a few days, we'll learn more about you."
Without waiting for a response, she continued climbing.
Just then, the front door opened.
A man stepped inside—it was the driver who had escorted Daniella to the couple's residence.
"Mr. Csepel says to escort you to the main residence," he announced.
Daniella's expression twisted in annoyance.
She glanced up, eyes flicking between Arian standing above and Lynette disappearing up the stairs.
As Daniella stared at Lynette, she unlocked her phone and dialed a number.
Almost immediately, Lynette's phone began to ring.
Her brows furrowed.
It was a new phone—who could possibly be calling her?
She picked it up hesitantly, pressing it to her ear. "Hello?"
A familiar voice answered.
Lynette turned back, her eyes widening slightly.
Daniella was holding her phone, watching her.
Then—the call ended.
Without another word, Daniella turned and walked away, her steps sharp with irritation.
Lynette lingered for a moment, unease creeping in, but then she headed upstairs.
At the top of the staircase, her eyes met Arian's.
"About tonight… I need to be alone," she said, walking toward him.
Arian's expression shifted, his brows briefly furrowing before smoothing into something more composed.
"If you want to be alone, fine. I'll respect that," he said evenly. "But if you plan to leave the house—even if it's just for a walk—please let me know."
His voice held an edge of concern.
"I don't want you disappearing again," he continued, his tone quieter now. "I'll blame myself… because I wouldn't be able to bear it."
A pause settled between them. Then his voice softened further.
"You'll have to endure some inconvenience. After you were declared missing, your parents pulled away all the guards and helpers. But they should be returning today."
There was worry in his gaze.
"I'll let you know," Lynette murmured, turning away.
She reached for her door, opened it, and stepped inside.
The lock clicked behind her.
She impatiently opened the browser, diving into a search for **Lynette Daelan** in this world.
Videos. Photos. Articles.
She clicked through them rapidly, absorbing details of Lynette's life.
The lavish elite parties she attended stood out the most—glamorous gatherings where she mingled effortlessly with high-profile figures.
Through these events, she pinpointed names of people Lynette seemed close to on camera—Leonardo Leonardo, the CEO of L2 group ; Azaela, her best friend who was an Influencer; and a string of other wealthy individuals.
Memorizing their names became her new task. If she were to meet them, she had to blend in seamlessly—pretending, adapting, becoming Lynette Daelan.
She studied everything—the way Lynette spoke, the way she walked, the effortless grace in her posture, the poised elegance of her dress.
Every detail mattered.
Then, she stumbled across photos of Lynette and her husband, Arian.
Something about the images struck her.
In most of them, Arian appeared distant—almost like he was third-wheeling Lynette and Leonardo.
Curious, she searched deeper.
More pictures. More articles. But oddly, very few featured Lynette and Arian together.
Then, she found the wedding video.
The luxurious affair was nothing short of breathtaking.
She stared at the gown Lynette wore, her fingers absentmindedly pressing against her lips.
"This dress must have cost thousands… maybe even millions," she murmured, eyes fixed on the screen, watching from the bed.
On her wedding day, Lynette had made a bold declaration—every five years, she and Arian would renew their vows.
She adored the feeling of a wedding day—the magic, the elegance, the dress.
But then—
Another search result caught her attention.
"Lynette Daelan announces months before her wedding anniversary that a wedding won't be done. Why?"
Her pulse quickened.
What had changed?
Lynette read the article carefully, scanning for answers.
Yet, there was nothing—no explanation, no reason for canceling the re-wedding.
She frowned slightly, her thoughts drifting elsewhere.
Then, she remembered—her mother had said a party must be held for her return.
That meant she had very little time to prepare.
She quickly stood and made her way to the closet room.
Watching videos and studying Lynette Daelan wasn't enough. If she wanted to be the Lynette, she had to act like her.
She slipped into a black wedge heel and a two-piece tweed ensemble—an outfit carefully chosen based on what she had seen Lynette wearing most often.
Standing in front of the massive mirror, she studied herself.
She took a step back, then forward, mimicking Lynette's poised movements.
She imagined herself at an elite gathering, surrounded by people, engaging in conversation. She spoke like her, laughed like her, tested every subtle gesture she had seen online.
One dress after another, she tried them on, walking, posing, refining the act—until a sudden knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts.
Her pulse quickened.
She hurriedly changed into a casual dress and walked toward the door, pausing for a moment to compose herself.
Then, she opened it.
A woman stood before her, dressed in attire similar to the maids she had seen at the main residence.
Her blonde hair was neatly tied into a bun, and though she appeared in her early forties, there was a warmth in her expression.
The woman's eyes widened.
"Young miss, you're really alive!" she exclaimed, her smile broad and filled with emotion.
Lynette hesitated, uncertainty flooding her.
She had no idea who this woman was.
Before she could speak, the lady gently placed a hand on her forehead, concern flickering in her gaze.
"Do forgive me, young miss. I forgot that you have memory loss."
Then, she smiled reassuringly.
"But do not worry. I—your assistant, Abigail—will help you through this."
Lynette blinked, trying to recall anything about an assistant named Abigail from her research.
But nothing came to mind.
"Young miss, it's fine if you don't remember me. It's never too late to get to know me," Abigail said enthusiastically, speaking faster than Lynette expected. "But first, we need to talk about the welcome-back party attendance list."
Lynette opened her mouth to respond. "Mrs—"
Abigail cut her off with a light chuckle.
"Miss. Young miss," she corrected playfully.
"I divorced my husband four years ago. I can't believe I settled for less !"
Lynette hesitated before nodding slightly. "Oh, sorry, Miss Abigail. I don't know how much I can help with the attendance list… I don't remember who those people were."
Abigail waved away the concern.
"Do not worry, just be with me, and everything will be fine."
Then, her tone shifted ever so slightly.
"There's one person the madam wanted to add," she said, watching Lynette carefully. "She asked me to check if you were comfortable with it."
"You both… kind of had a history," Abigail added.
A history?
"I don't know if I can remember that person," Lynette murmured. "But who is it?"
Abigail met her gaze.
"Kevin Gael."