The Forgotten Past, The Found Self

Chapter 2

Word Count: 997 | Released on: 03/07/2025

the preliminary paperwork drawn up by the next day. I hung up the phone feeling a sense of purpose I hadn't known just hours before. This amnesia

ake me to the address listed as "Home." As I got in, I started searching for flights out of the

the hospital wristband still on my

st n

around here. Though, I hear he's a cold one. My buddy used to drive for him. Said the m

talking about me, the "real wife" who got nothing. It didn't sting. It was just a fact

tiful and imposing, but it felt cold, like a museum, not a home. The driver let me

s that a married couple lived here. It was Liam's house, not ours. I wandered through the rooms, a ghost in a life that was supposed to be mine. In the master bedroom, th

woman who must have stood in this room, hopin

d it. A leather-bound journal. My name, Olivia Reynolds, wa

ecognized it instinctively. T

perfume. He didn't even look at me. He just went into the guest

should be more understanding of Liam. They said Scarlet

this big, empty house alone. I painted a portrait of him, hoping he might like it. When he

's Day. He bought Scarlett a diamond n

ut how I had learned to cook his favorite meals, how I studied business to have something to talk to him a

s from the day be

had never met me. He said Scarlett is the only one who matters. I don't know how muc

ly who had abandoned me. They were for the woman who wrote these words. The Olivia who had loved

t of my former self. "I will not let you down," I whispered into the empty room.

lothes or jewelry. I packed my sketchbooks, my paints, and a few simple

nline and booked it for a month. It wa

ang. The caller ID said "Mom." I he

t's birthday party is tomorrow night at the Sterling estate. Liam is ho

arlett. Hosted by my husband. And I was being ordered to attend. T

sn't her

Chapter End

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The Forgotten Past, The Found Self

Yixi Yuhuan Romance

“The sterile smell of antiseptic was the first thing I registered, a dull ache throbbing in my head. I was in a hospital bed, my mind a complete blank. "You're finally awake," a woman with a tired, angry face snapped. "Do you know how much trouble you've caused? Trying to kill yourself over a man. Olivia, you are a disgrace to the Hayes family." More names were thrown at me by a man equally displeased: Liam, Scarlett, Olivia Reynolds-my name. They painted a picture of a pathetic woman, obsessed with her adopted sister Scarlett's fiancé, Liam Sterling. According to them, I had forced Liam into marriage and was now attempting suicide because he wouldn't love me back. My adoptive parents and husband spoke about me as if I wasn' t there, their words cold, cruel, and utterly foreign. Then came the demand: "Scarlett needs a blood transfusion. You have the same rare type. You're going to the operating room now to donate blood to your sister." It wasn't a request. It was an order. I was dragged to the donation room, where Liam-the object of my supposed obsession-followed. "Make sure you take enough," he told the nurse, his eyes burning with contempt. "Don't think this changes anything, Olivia. After this, you'll sign the divorce papers." He even threw a million-dollar check on the bed, a brutal payment for my blood. The old Olivia, who they claimed would have shattered, was gone. The memories, the pain, the love-it felt like a stranger's story. Amnesia had wiped the slate clean, leaving an eerie calm. Lying there, listening to nurses whisper about my pathetic desperation, I realized something profound. The woman they were talking about wasn't me. The past wasn't mine. And my future? It was a blank canvas, finally mine to paint. I took out my phone, found a lawyer's number, and dialed. "I want to file for divorce," I said, my voice steady. "And I want to sever all legal ties with my adoptive parents."”