His Perfect Prescription, My Royal Betrayal

e rescued and cherished. He was Dawson Nash, a handsome

0,000 encounters, Dawson. You chose well. She's c

p him pure for his true obsession:

red "I love you"-all a calculated lie. He called me di

ter a car accident. When I saved Arleen from drowning, he accused

oon rose, I saw my chance. No

nt well on his family's estat

amnesia. I was a princess from a lost ki

pte

awson's therapist's clinical voice, "10,000 encounters, Dawson. You

in this bustling, overwhelming city of Los Angeles three years ago, my mind a blank slate. The last thing I remembered was the suffocating smoke of a

onfused, a stranger with no name, no past, and no memory. He told me he'd found me near a construction site, disoriented and mu

ce a low, soothing melody that had instantly

nformation and connections to a world I couldn' t fathom. He introduced me to social media, a place where people shared snippets of their lives

ock me; he indulged my "quirks," as he called them. He'd explain everything with a patient smile, his eyes sparkling with what I thought was affection. He' d even buy me

ng my skin, making shivers run down my spine. "My innocent, beautiful Dora." Those words, that feeling of being completely possessed by him, had been my entire world. I lived for hi

er blue blood moon, appearing in the Los Angeles sky just a few nights ago. Looking up at it, a strange sense of longing, a pull towards something ancient and forgotten, had stirred within m

niable. I had dreamt of showing him this part of my past, of eventually returning with him to wherever I t

t a private club, a place I rarely visited, feeling out of place among the glittering elite. But tonight, I needed to see h

voices. Dawson's, deep and resonant, and another, sharper, more professional. I

had ever heard it, almost reverent. "S

friend. A sophisticated, elegant woman, ten years his s

voice laced with a knowing chuckle. "So, the 10,0

ran cold.

bored. "Clean, uncomplicated. Doesn't ask questions. Exactl

voice, now clearer, echoed my worst fears. "You always said you needed someone... disposable. Someone

ng deeper. Every gentle touch, every whispered endearment, every patient lesson, every shared laugh

ntense passion, the feeling of being cherished-they were all artificial, manufactured for his twisted purpose. My mind replayed his words, "My innocen

elly. I turned, blindly stumbling away from the horror, my heart a raw, bleeding wound. I had to leave. I ha

low. I stripped off the silk dress Dawson had bought me, pushing it away as if it were contaminated. I turned on the shower, letting the scalding water beat down on my

ly way out. I wouldn't tell Dawson. He didn't deserve to know. He didn't deserve a

ended to leave me. But I would leave on my o