Footsteps echoed nearby as several staff members hurried over, drawn by the shouting.
"Simon."
Elena's voice cut cleanly through the chaos.
He froze.
She placed a gentle hand on his arm, stopping him just as he was about to explode. Simon turned to look at her, chest heaving, but obediently stepped back half a pace.
Only then did Elena move forward.
Her gaze swept over the three women, calm and distant, as though she were looking at strangers on the street. Her voice was soft, deceptively gentle.
"I don't know if you've heard," she said slowly, "but I was in a serious accident two years ago. I was comatose for a year. As a result, I suffer from selective amnesia."
She tilted her head slightly, eyes clear and empty.
"Excuse me, but I don't remember who you are. At all. Please move aside. We need to return to my dressing room."
The words landed harder than any slap.
