His Amnesiac Lie: My Stolen Life

ship was a lie from a conversati

areer, hadn't lost his memory. It was all a long con to steal my life's

she publicly humiliated me, burned my arm wit

o an icy shower w

down while doctors drew my blood and s

that destroyed my c

ning me into a prisoner in his m

orgot wh

reclaimed my secret identity as th

at would bring their empire

pte

ena

ship was a lie from a conversati

r, just a crack, but their voices sliced thro

thing?" That was Carina Sparks. A v

spered promises in my ear every night, was confident, dismissive.

nd suffocating, began

Carina pressed, her tone sharpening. "Morrison Dynamics is banki

s launched, she'll be irrelevant. I'll make sure the press release is per

Ath

internet, no cell service. She won't hear a thing about our wedding or

the glacial chill of betrayal. The warmth of the

bed through my chest. It was like my heart had been se

e cold wall of the hallway with a soft thud, the im

unshed tears blurring the orn

, a blur of black metal spinning towards the cliff's edge. I didn't think. I just ac

gend in the indie game world, the anonymous developer known only as "PixelVixen." The surgery had left me w

of his life, not even of his own name. All he knew, he said, was my

him, helped him with physical therapy, and to

din Morrison, the ruthless CEO of Morrison Dynamics, a titan of the gaming ind

e. He said I was his only conn

ed wrist as if it were a sacred relic, finding the best doctor

ed me soup, wiping my brow with a cool cloth, his eyes

fairy tale. He once flew to Paris for a day just to bring back a

hand that glittered with the light of a thousand promises. He told me he couldn' t imagin

a shard of glass in my gut.

t anyone. C

. The one who stole my senior project, a rudimentary version of a

zed my eyes shut, trying t

ed from the study, dripping with satisfaction. "It's a sha

flat, devoid of any emotion. "The accident was only meant t

the injury that ended

erfere," Carina warned. "If she

D made for her under a different name. After the wedding, I'll tell her we need to

sn't just a placeholder. I was a pa

arnest expression, the weight of the ring in his palm,

meticulously crafted performance to keep me compliant while he stole

eap on the marble floor. A single, choked sob escaped my lips,

s through the foundation I'd so carefully applied that morning. Th

pulled a small, leather-bound notebook from my nightstand drawer. A

one was filled with my looping scr

e to see the cherry blossoms

o build me a custom s

would be on a beach at sunset,

y tears. The words that had once been my gre

first page out. Then the next, and the next, tearing

the floor, my phone buzzed on the b

ld needs you. Are you rea

or. A respected indie publisher wh

harsh, ugly sound. Comeback? My wrist was still a

k-up. "Six more weeks, Athena. The final nerve graft is hea

we

ace, cold and sharp as a razor'

ying across the screen, the tremor i

ed. "Give me