The Billionaire’s Secret Guardian

A steady, rhythmic beeping filled the silence, a sound both foreign and strangely familiar. It cut through the thick fog in his mind, dragging him toward consciousness, pulling him from the abyss of nothingness.

Damian Steele’s eyelids fluttered, heavy as lead, resisting his attempts to open them. His body felt foreign, weighted down as though he had been buried under a mountain. The scent of antiseptic filled his nostrils, sharp and clinical.

Where… am I?

His fingers twitched, a slow, sluggish movement that felt like a victory. He tried again, curling them into a fist, but pain flared up his arm, sharp and unrelenting. A low groan escaped his lips. The sound startled him. It had been so long since he had heard his own voice.

He pried his eyes open, the world around him swimming in and out of focus. Blinding fluorescent lights burned his retinas, making him squint. The ceiling was white, smooth, unfamiliar. Machines surrounded him, their monitors blinking in silent vigilance. The room was quiet, save for the steady beep of the heart monitor attached to him.

Then, the door creaked open.

A nurse stepped in, her eyes landing on him. She gasped, dropping the clipboard she was holding. It clattered against the tiled floor, the sharp sound echoing through the sterile room.

"Mr. Steele… you're awake!" she breathed, pressing a button on the wall. "Doctor! He's awake!"

Footsteps thundered in the hallway, growing louder by the second. Within moments, a team of doctors and nurses rushed in, their voices overlapping, questions firing at him from every direction.

"Mr. Steele, can you hear me?"

"Do you know where you are?"

"How do you feel?"

His throat was dry, sandpaper scraping against flesh. He swallowed, wincing at the effort it took. "Water," he rasped.

One of the nurses quickly poured a glass, bringing it to his lips. The liquid was cool, soothing as it trickled down his parched throat.

"You've been unconscious for a long time, Mr. Steele," the doctor said. He was an older man with graying hair and sharp, observant eyes. "Do you remember what happened?"

Damian frowned, his mind reaching into the void, grasping at memories that refused to surface. What happened? He tried to think, to recall anything before waking up here.

Flashes of light. The roar of an engine. The sharp sound of metal crunching, glass shattering. Pain. Darkness.

He winced, a sharp stab of pain shooting through his skull. "No," he admitted, frustration curling in his gut. "I… I don't remember."

The doctor exchanged a glance with one of the nurses. "That's not uncommon for patients who have been in prolonged comas. Your brain is still adjusting. The memories might return over time."

Damian let the words sink in. He had been in a coma? For how long?

"How long?" he asked, his voice stronger now.

The doctor hesitated. "Two years."

Silence crashed into the room.

His chest tightened. Two years? Two whole years of his life—gone. The weight of it pressed down on him like an invisible force, suffocating, disorienting.

His company. His responsibilities. His life. What had happened in his absence? What had he lost?

His head pounded, the questions swirling inside him like a storm. But then, something else surfaced, something strange—a voice.

"Hold on, Damian. You have to live."

It was soft, urgent, yet familiar. A woman’s voice.

His heartbeat spiked.

He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the memory. The voice had been there in the darkness, pulling him back from the brink, whispering to him when the silence had threatened to consume him. She had been real. She had spoken to him.

His eyes snapped open. "Who was here with me?"

The doctor blinked in surprise. "Your family visited from time to time. Your business associates checked in occasionally—"

"No," Damian interrupted, his tone firm. "A woman. There was a woman here. She spoke to me."

The doctor exchanged another glance with the nurse. "There were many people who came and went, Mr. Steele. Are you sure—?"

"I heard her." His jaw tightened. "She was there."

But no one had an answer.

A deep unease settled in his gut. He didn’t know who she was, but he was certain of one thing—he had to find her.

Across the City…

In a dimly lit gym on the outskirts of the city, Elena Knight delivered a sharp, precise punch to the heavy bag, the impact reverberating through her bones. Sweat dripped down her temple, her breath coming in steady, controlled exhales.

She had spent the last two years hiding in plain sight, pushing her body to its limits, staying sharp, staying ready. Because she knew—one day, her past would catch up to her.

Her past had a name. Damian Steele.

The thought of him sent a chill down her spine. She had promised herself she would never think about him again. She had cut all ties, buried every trace of the life she had left behind. But now, the past was clawing its way back.

Her phone buzzed on the bench beside her.

She ignored it, throwing another punch, harder this time.

The phone vibrated again.

With a frustrated sigh, she grabbed it, wiping her hands against her leggings before looking at the screen.

Breaking News: Billionaire Damian Steele Wakes from Two-Year Coma.

Her breath hitched.

The words blurred together as a wave of emotions crashed into her—relief, fear, something dangerously close to longing.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to breathe.

"It doesn’t matter," she told herself. "He won’t remember me. He can’t."

But deep down, she knew the truth.

If Damian Steele ever found out what truly happened that night, he would never forgive her.

And that was a risk she wasn’t willing to take.