A year after the car accident stole my memories, I got married. On my way to my prenatal checkup, a kid blocked my path. He scowled at me, voice ice-cold: "Dad sent me to bring you home. Are you done throwing your tantrum?" I almost laughed. I crouched down, reaching to pat his head. "Hey sweetie, I think you've got the wrong person." He jerked away from my hand, irritated. "Stop pretending. Fine—I'll let you tuck me in from now on." I felt bad for him, but for safety's sake, I walked him back to his house. Outside a massive mansion stood a man—tall, sharp-featured, radiating cold authority. When he saw me, something flickered in his expression. But his voice dripped with contempt: "Chloe. So you finally decided to come back." He grabbed my hand, trying to drag me inside. I yanked free and dialed my husband: "Babe, I think I just ran into a family of psychos!" ... Before he could respond, my phone was slapped from my hand. It shattered against the stone driveway. The man's jaw clenched with barely controlled rage: "Chloe, quit the act." "So what if you took the fall for Evelyn and did three years? You weren't exactly suffering." "But no—you had to jump out of the car on your way home from prison. Made Evelyn feel guilty for a whole year!" "When you see her, you're going to apologize." My chest tightened with sudden, inexplicable pain. My hands trembled as I reached for my broken phone. "You've got the wrong person. I don't know you!" I turned to run. He caught my wrist and pulled me against his chest. Close enough to feel his breath, I could see the impatience in his eyes: "Chloe, how many years in prison does it take for you to learn? Nobody's watching your little performance!" My heart felt like it was being ripped apart. I couldn't breathe. Nameless terror wrapped around me. I opened my mouth but couldn't speak. Then a strange woman emerged from the house. She wore a fitted lace nightgown, peeking out from behind the man: "Chloe! You're back!" "Where have you been this whole year? You abandoned your husband and your son!" "What Julian did back then was wrong, I already punished him for you..." Julian. The name was familiar. But I couldn't remember who he was. "Don't touch me!" I instinctively shoved her hand away. She cried out and fell. "I don't know any of you! I need to go home, I need to find my—" Pain exploded across my forehead. Blood dripped down my face. The kid had thrown a rock at me. "Bad woman! Don't bully my mommy!" Julian glanced at me with something like concern, but he scooped Evelyn into his arms first. She struggled free, eyes red as she grabbed my hand: "Chloe, don't blame Leo. He's been raised by me these past few years—he forgot you're his real mother." She pulled me inside, grabbing iodine and bandages to patch me up. "You have no idea how hard Julian searched for you..." I realized I was trapped. I stopped resisting. Silent, I scanned the photos covering the walls. A happy family of three. Holding hands through spring, summer, fall, winter. The dates ranged from last January through December. I smiled bitterly, pointing at the glaring kid. "You say I'm his mother. So who are you?" "I..." Evelyn flushed, glancing at Julian. The man frowned, his voice sharp: "Evelyn is your sister-in-law. Why are you playing dumb?" "All those years you were locked up, she took care of me and our son. You should be thanking her." I almost laughed. I turned to Julian. "You say I'm your wife. Then answer me this." "Why would I go to prison in her place?" He froze. His voice rose: "Evelyn's delicate. She can't handle suffering. How could you compare to her?" I stood, pressing him: "Then what do I like? What's my favorite flower? What size do I wear?" He retreated, step by step, his face draining of color. His lips moved. No words came out. I asked my final question, each word deliberate: "When is my birthday?" Julian went silent. His fists clenched. Then he exploded: "Enough! Stop this!" I laughed coldly, raising my left hand to show the massive diamond on my ring finger. "I'm sorry, Mr. whatever-your-name-is. I don't know what kind of delusion you're all having, but I really don't know you." "And I'm already married. My husband is waiting for me at home." "As for my injuries and damages—my lawyer will be in touch."
Evelyn dropped the ointment in her hand. She stood in disbelief: "Chloe, what did you say? Husband?" "No wonder you wouldn't come home—you did something to betray Julian!" Julian's eyes went dark. He gripped my wrist so hard his knuckles turned white. "Chloe, who's the bastard?" "Is that why you're pretending not to know me?!" Like a madman, he dragged me upstairs by my arm and threw me onto a bed. "Let's see if that bastard left any marks on your body." "Get off me!" I screamed, slapping him across the face. "If you touch me, my husband will make you pay—" Before I could finish, he covered my mouth with his. Julian ripped at my clothes with one hand, shoving the other inside my body. He kissed and bit my neck, voice hoarse: "Chloe, you've got some nerve." "If I can't touch you, who can?" I sobbed and struggled. Then he suddenly froze. His hand found not smooth skin, but layer after layer of crisscrossing scars. Julian's hand trembled. He reached for the nightstand lamp. Someone pounded on the bedroom door. Evelyn's soft crying filtered through: "Julian, I dreamed about your brother again! I dreamed he was hitting me, coming for my life!" The man immediately released me and rushed out to hold her, soothing her. "Sweet Evelyn, it wasn't your fault." "If he hadn't abused you, you wouldn't have killed him in self-defense." "It's over now. Don't be afraid. I'm here." His gentle words drifted to my ears. I trembled as I buttoned my clothes. When I touched my face, I felt wetness. I crawled to the door, pounding desperately. Even when my fingers bled, no one came. I curled up in the corner, whispering his name over and over. Silas, when will you find me? I sat alone in that room all night. The next morning, a maid finally let me out. When she saw the dead snake, she wasn't even surprised—just tossed it in the trash like routine. Julian sat downstairs reading the financial paper. When he saw me, he ordered: "Evelyn wants the chicken soup you make. Go cook it." "And Leo's milk needs to be room temperature." "I'm putting you in charge of ironing my shirts too. The staff don't have your touch." The words felt coded into my DNA. I actually started walking toward the kitchen. Only when my hand touched an apron did I snap out of it. I stormed out, shaking with rage: "You're holding me against my will. I'm calling the cops!" Julian looked up, tossing the paper aside with a cold laugh: "Chloe, what game are you playing now?" I was about to answer when I caught sight of the newspaper. There was a photo of Silas at last week's charity gala. My voice burst out, excited: "That's my husband! If you don't believe me, call him!"
Julian narrowed his eyes, about to speak. Evelyn stood on the spiral staircase, eyes full of contempt. "Chloe, what kind of joke is this?" "Everyone knows Silas Thorne doesn't do women. Hell, he won't even get a female dog—only males." "Plus, our companies have been collaborating. We'd know if he got married." I clenched my fists to argue back when a sharp pain hit my abdomen. My baby... I saw the unguarded front door and bolted. "Chloe, where are you going?" Evelyn rushed down and grabbed me. I'd had enough. I bit down on her hand, hard enough to taste blood. She fell screaming, clutching her hand: "Julian, my hand—it hurts so much..." The tenderness in his eyes as he looked at her turned to ice when he looked at me. "Chloe, have you lost your mind?!" CRACK. A vicious slap across my face. My vision went black. My ears rang. When I came to, Julian had dragged me in front of Evelyn and kicked my knees out from under me. "Apologize to Evelyn. On your knees." "You hurt my mommy! I'll kill you!" The kid swung his toy car at my head over and over. The wound split open. Blood poured out. I swallowed blood and struggled to my feet, trying to run. Someone shoved me hard. My stomach slammed into the steps. Sharp, brutal pain engulfed me. Blood ran down my thighs. Feeling the blood beneath me, tears streamed down my face: "My baby—please, get me to a hospital..." I shakily tried to stand. The world spun. Everything went black. When I woke up, the smell of disinfectant filled my nose. Muffled voices nearby: "Pregnant? Amnesia? What the hell does that mean!" "Mr. Montgomery, it's dissociative amnesia—the patient's defense mechanism against trauma." Julian's voice was barely controlled fury: "She was pampered and spoiled. How could she have this?!" The doctor sighed. "The patient has lacerations from sharp objects, contusions and fractures from blunt force trauma—clear signs of long-term, sustained violent abuse." "Her body has endured unimaginable torture. When her mind finally broke, it activated self-protection and selectively erased all painful memories." Silence. Then Julian's voice, hoarse and raw: "I'll investigate..." "But the baby goes. I'm not raising another man's kid." Terror seized me. I forced my eyes open but couldn't move. They want to hurt my baby! Medical staff approached. A needle slid into my arm. Julian stood beside me, eyes red-rimmed, jaw tight. I used my last strength to grab his collar. "Don't..." He covered my desperate eyes with his hand. I lost consciousness. When I woke again, I was back at the Montgomery house. Strapped to a metal chair. Electrodes clamped to my head. "Chloe, you're awake." Evelyn crouched in front of me, smiling with cruel satisfaction: "I just heard from Julian about your amnesia." "Don't worry. We'll help you remember real soon." I touched my empty, aching stomach and broke down sobbing. Julian knelt, kissing my tears, his eyes red: "The doctor said 99 shocks and you'll remember everything." "Then everyone who hurt you will pay. Every single one." "As for the baby—I won't hold it against you anymore." I shook uncontrollably, shaking my head: "No, I really don't know you, please—" "Do it." Julian stood and gave the order. The button was pressed. Electricity—like molten wire—shot through my veins, from fingertips to organs. Every jolt brought bone-shattering agony. I screamed until my throat was raw. Blood poured from my lips. My vision went black. Only endless, tearing pain remained. The dam of memory finally broke. Numb tears fell one after another as I whispered: "I remember..." I remembered eight years of soul-crushing pain.
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