Amnesia Secret

Ava’s point of view

Damian had been watching me all evening. I felt his eyes on me even when I wasn’t looking. There was an intensity to it, a silent question burning in his gaze, as though he was trying to solve a puzzle I didn’t want him to complete.

I took a sip of my wine, trying to focus on the meaningless conversation around me. The restaurant was elegant, the soft hum of conversation blending with the clinking of glasses and silverware. A violinist played in the background, but I barely heard it over the pounding of my heart.

He knew something.

I wasn’t sure how much, but the way he had pulled me aside earlier, the way he kept staring at me like he was peeling back my layers—it was only a matter of time before he confronted me.

And I wasn’t ready for that.

I forced myself to smile at one of the socialites sitting beside me, but my fingers clenched around my fork as I felt a presence behind me. A shadow loomed over the table, and then—

“Ava.”

Damian’s deep voice cut through the chatter, and the entire table fell silent. My breath caught, my back stiffened, but I slowly turned to look at him.

“Yes?” I said, keeping my voice even.

His dark eyes burned into mine, unreadable yet filled with something raw. Something dangerous.

“Step outside with me.” It wasn’t a request.

I swallowed, glancing at the curious stares around me, but I knew I couldn’t refuse. Not without making it obvious that I had something to hide.

Pushing my chair back, I rose to my feet, smoothing down my dress with shaky fingers before following him out onto the quiet rooftop terrace. The crisp night air brushed against my skin, but it did nothing to cool the heat rising inside me.

He waited until the door shut behind us before he spoke.

“You’re hiding something,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I can feel it, Ava.”

I let out a soft, humorless laugh, crossing my arms over my chest. “That’s quite an assumption.”

His jaw tightened. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Lie to me.”

I sucked in a breath, my pulse pounding against my skin.

Damian took a step closer, his eyes searching mine. “Every time I look at you, I feel like I should know you. It’s not just attraction. It’s… deeper. There are moments—flashes—where it’s like I remember something. A feeling. A voice. A touch.” His voice grew rougher. “It’s you, Ava. It’s always you.”

My throat tightened, but I forced myself to stay composed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. “I don’t believe you.”

I turned away, gripping the balcony railing. The city lights stretched before us, but I couldn’t focus on anything except the war raging inside me.

I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to pay for the years of pain he caused me.

But what if… what if he wasn’t the one responsible?

The thought had been eating at me ever since I discovered the truth—since I learned that his father was the one who had ensured Damian forgot me. That his amnesia wasn’t an accident.

The man I had spent years hating, the man I had blamed for everything, might have been just as much a pawn in his father’s game as I was.

And now, he was standing here, desperate for answers he didn’t even know he was looking for.

“Ava,” Damian said again, softer this time. “Who are you to me?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. If I told him, if I let him remember, would that change everything?

Would it change me?

I exhaled sharply, then turned to face him. “You want the truth?”

His entire body went still. “Yes.”

I stared at him for a long moment, then shook my head. “Then find it yourself.”

And with that, I walked away.

Later that night, I sat in my dimly lit office, staring at the files scattered across my desk.

Damian’s medical records. His father had buried them deep, but I had resources too. And what I found had made my blood run cold.

The accident that caused his amnesia… wasn’t an accident at all.

The truth stared back at me in black and white: He had been drugged.

And not by just anyone.

By his own father.

I pressed my fingers against my temple, my mind spinning. Damian had always been stubborn, always ready to fight against his father’s control. But he had been too valuable—too important—to simply let go.

So his father had wiped his mind clean. Erased me. Erased us.

And I had spent years hating the wrong person.

A knock at the door snapped me from my thoughts.

I quickly shoved the papers into a drawer. “Come in.”

Sophia, my best friend and the only person I truly trusted, stepped inside. She took one look at me and sighed. “You found something, didn’t you?”

I nodded slowly.

She sat across from me, leaning forward. “And?”

I swallowed hard. “Damian wasn’t responsible.” My voice was barely above a whisper. “His father orchestrated everything. His memory loss… it wasn’t an accident. It was a setup.”

Sophia’s eyes widened. “Oh my God.”

I leaned back, exhaling shakily. “All this time, I wanted revenge. I wanted to hurt him the way he hurt me. But now…” I shook my head, my voice breaking. “Now, I don’t even know what’s real anymore.”

Sophia reached across the desk, squeezing my hand. “You don’t have to decide anything tonight. Just breathe.”

I nodded, but deep down, I knew—nothing would ever be the same again.

For the next few days, I avoided Damian. Every time I saw him, my stomach twisted with guilt.

But fate had other plans.

At a high-profile charity event, I found myself trapped in another photo-op with my fake fiancé.

Damian’s hand rested lightly on my waist as the cameras flashed around us. He played the role of the devoted lover effortlessly, but when he leaned in, his voice was anything but playful.

“I need to talk to you,” he murmured against my ear.

I forced a smile for the cameras. “Not now.”

“Yes, now.”

I sighed, but before I could protest, something else caught my attention.

Or rather, someone.

A woman stood near the entrance, her sharp eyes locked on us. She was tall, poised, with a smirk that sent a chill down my spine.

I knew that face.

Rachel.

Damian’s ex-fiancée.

She wasn’t supposed to be here.

The moment Damian saw her, his entire body tensed. His grip on my waist tightened, his posture stiffening.

“Rachel?” His voice was full of disbelief.

She smiled sweetly, tilting her head. “Miss me, darling?”

The crowd gasped. The reporters were already whispering, and a cold sensation spread through my chest.