Fake Amnesia, Real Betrayal

ndows of my office. I was Sarah Miller, an architect, and my world was built on straight lines

Chen from Unive

uddenly seemed meaningless.

dn't soothe the fear that shot through me. "A collision on the int

ide my chest. David Thompson, my David. The boy I'd loved since we were kids, the charismatic tech entrepreneur who was the vibrant color in my monochr

right now, not this. I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles white, my mind replaying the last time I saw him this morning. He kissed

ospital's automatic doors hissed open, and I was hit with the sterile smell of antisep

e said, giving me a sympathetic l

a kind, middle-aged man who had been our f

m so glad you're here. He's physically lucky, j

asked, my he

. It's not uncommon with head trauma." He paused, loo

ed. "What do you

hed the door open for

armed. But he wasn't alone. A young woman was sitting on the edge of his bed, holding his hand. Chloe Da

es I had looked into a million times, were completely blank. Th

oice was bare

nd from Chloe's to grip her

took a step forward, my hand outstretched

t, ugly sound. "I'm not marri

t I saw a flicker of something else in them. Trium

ied for ten years." I turned to him, my gaze desperate. "We live on Oak Street. We have a g

you're upsetting Chloe." He turned to his assistant, his voice softening. "Don't worry, Ch

the science, the way trauma can erase specific people or periods of time. He said D

gaping hole that had just been torn in my life. The

esia. It was temporary. I would be patient. I would wait. I would do whatever it took to bring my