CHAPTER 18 WHO IS LOGAN?

The toy

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“What’s happening?” Jessie asked as she saw the terror in my eyes.

I jerked up. “Logan knew me before our first meeting at the wedding.”

Her eyes widened as she approached me. “What do you mean?”

I picked up the diary from the bed and showed her what I had just read. “Remember when you said something that must have triggered my memory at the restaurant? And I said Logan was the only new thing in my life.”

“And I said Logan didn’t strike me as someone who knew you,” Jessie said, sinking into a chair. “Then why is he acting like he’s never met you?” She took a deep breath. “Don’t you think we’re jumping to conclusions here? There are thousands of Logans out there.”

“Yeah, and they all happen to have the same dark hair and green eyes?” I retorted, still pacing around the room.

“There are more than seven billion people in the world,” Jessie justified.

As expected, Jessie was always trying to be logical.

Out of frustration, I let out a grunt. “Then explain why my memories started coming back after meeting Logan.”

“They have the same eyes and the same name—that’s enough to trigger it,” Jessie explained. “You know what? Let’s go out there and ask him.”

“What? Do you think he’s just going to say yes? If he’s been pretending not to know me, do you think he’ll just admit it?”

“The goal is to see his reaction,” Jessie stated.

She was right; if I asked the question now, it would throw him off balance.

With every step that brought me closer to the living room, nervousness tightened its grip on my throat.

Logan stood up as I entered the sitting room.

“Here.” He handed me purple roses.

“Thank you.” I forced a smile, trying to mask my discomfort.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, moving forward to take my hand in his.

“I have something to ask you.” My stomach clenched as heat coursed through my body. “Did you know me before the wedding?”

Logan stepped back, losing his grip on my hands. “What do you mean?” he asked, quickly regaining his composure.

But it was already too late. I had my answer—he was the one from my diary.

“Were we neighbors in Warwick?”

“Of course not.” He gave me a dismissive laugh.

I glanced over at Jessie, who was mouthing that he was hiding something.

I turned back to him. “Never mind. My mind has just been a mess.”

Logan smiled and settled back into his seat.

“Well, I have to finish making breakfast,” Jessie said, retreating to the kitchen.

“You look beautiful with your new hairstyle,” he commented, flashing his charming smile.

This was the moment I would have blushed—if I didn’t know who he really was.

“Have you thought about my proposal?” he asked.

“What proposal?”

“The one I mentioned at the bar,” Logan replied.

A chill ran down my spine as I remembered what he was talking about—when he told me to use him any way I wanted. He had a hidden agenda, and I needed to find out what he really wanted from me.

I stared at his face as he kept smiling—a smile that once sent a warm glow through me and is now sending shivers down my spine.

“Detectives are here, Ari,” Jessie said, pointing towards the two men.

“Good day. I’m Mr. Johnson, and this is my partner, Mrs. Thorne,” he said, flashing his ID card as they both settled on the sofa across from me.

“Good day,” I replied.

“We have a few questions for you,” Mr. Johnson began. “Well, before the cops arrived, the assailant had already escaped,” he continued.

My eyes widened. Panic surged through me at the thought that the man who had almost killed me was still out there.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Smith, we’ll find him,” Mrs. Thorne reassured me.

“I thought you knocked him out cold.” I turned to Logan.

“I did,” Logan said. “But I had to rush you to the hospital. After calling the cops, I left.”

“So, you’re the one who called the cops?” Mr. Johnson asked.

Logan nodded.

“Did the assailant say anything during the attack?” Mr. Johnson questioned.

“Not at all,” I replied.

“Where in the house did the assailant attack you?” Mr. Johnson continued his interrogation.

“In the kitchen and the living room,” I answered.

“We found strands of your hair in your room. Did the assailant do that?”

I swallowed hard, glancing at Jessie, who leaned against the wall behind the detectives, and then at Logan, who looked uncomfortable.

“Ms. Smith?” Mr. Johnson prompted.

“Yes,” I mumbled, cracking my fingers. “And the shards of broken bottles?” he asked.

“Yes, the assailant did that,” I said, unable to admit that I had done it myself—not with Jessie here.

“How did it happen?” Mrs. Thorne asked.

“Well, it happened so fast,” I said, clutching my gown. I quickly released my grip when I noticed Mr. Johnson staring at me.

“How did the assailant gain entry into your home?” Mr. Johnson asked.

Without thinking, I blurted out, “I opened the door.”

“So you opened the door for a stranger?” Mr. Johnson pressed.

“N-No,” I stammered. “I mean yes.”

“Ms. Smith, do you know the assailant?” Mrs. Thorne asked, bluntly.

“Mr. Logan said he was the one who called the cops and found you unconscious. Are you trying to protect the assailant?” Mr. Johnson asked.

Swallowing hard, I glanced at Jessie again, confusion spelt across her face, then turned to Logan, who was fidgeting and tapping his fingers on his knee.

My eyes widened at their deduction. “I came back from my hometown and was just too tired. Not many people know where I live, so when I heard the knock, I thought it was someone I knew,” I stuttered. “I don’t know the assailant.”

“I need to return to work,” Logan said abruptly, getting up and leaving the house without waiting for a reply.

“Do you have any recent conflicts or issues with anyone that might relate to this incident?” Mr. Johnson asked.

The only person I could think of was Lucy, but she had been happy with Damon and had no reason to attack me.

“No, I haven’t,” I replied, watching him scribble my answers.

“Do you have any idea why this might have happened or any potential motives?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“Is there anything else you remember or think is important for us to know?” he asked.

I racked my brain for any important details but couldn’t think of any.

“No,” I replied.

“That will be all,” Mr. Johnson said as he and his partner rose to their feet.

“Oh, yes. I went back to my hometown, Warwick. But I have amnesia, so I can’t remember if I had enemies there,” I added.

“Did you meet anyone there?” Mr. Johnson asked.

“No, I just went to collect a personal item,” I said.

Mr. Johnson nodded and left the apartment.

Finally, I could breathe. I didn’t know why, but I just couldn’t mention Tony.

“Was it Damon who assaulted you?” Jessie asked, her voice cutting through me, a frown etched across her face.

“Of course not. Damon would never do that,” I shot back.

Damon would never hurt me—at least not physically.

“But are you sure you don’t know the assailant?” Jessie pressed.

“Of course not,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“You and Logan were acting suspiciously like you were hiding something,” Jessie remarked.

“Of course not. I’m not hiding anything,” I said, cracking my fingers again.

“Speaking of Logan, did you notice how he pulled back when I asked?” I quickly changed the topic.

“I did,” she said, leaning in, her voice lowering.

“He’s definitely hiding something.”

“How can I find out what he’s hiding?” I asked, my mind racing for a way to squeeze the truth out of him.

“By taking the bait without swallowing it,” Jessie replied.

I stared at her, my face contorted in confusion.

“Give him what he wants,” she suggested. “Date him and see what he asks of you. That’s what he wants from you,” Jessie added.

She was right. As long as he didn’t know that I knew his true intentions, he would think I had fallen for his bait. Meanwhile, he would be the one falling for mine.