My sugar daddy got into a car crash and lost his memory. He forgot I was his girl. I took the opportunity to get pregnant and run. To give my baby the best of everything, I decided to sell off all the gifts he’d ever given me. My online marketplace listings went up one by one: [Christian Louboutins, worn once for an ex. FOR SALE.] [Diamond-encrusted Montblanc pen, favorite of a flashy finance bro. FOR SALE.] [24k gold anklet, used for... roleplay with a first love. FOR SALE.] [Hermès Birkin from my late husband. FOR SALE.] The weird thing was, every single item was snatched up instantly by the same buyer. No matter how much I jacked up the price, they bought it without hesitation. Until one day, after I’d sold everything, a new message from the mystery buyer popped up: [Is your profile picture for sale? Name your price.] I stared at the selfie on my screen and had a long, hard think. 1 When I got to Julian Croft’s hospital room, I could hear his voice, laced with disdain. "Me? Amnesia? Have you guys been watching too many soap operas?" His mother, Mrs. Croft, grabbed his hand. "Do you remember who we are, then?" Silence. "...No." Mrs. Croft’s eyes welled up. She clutched his hand, her voice thick with emotion. "Your name is Julian Croft. You're the heir to the Crestlight Corporation, and I'm your mother." She wiped a tear from her eye, then turned and gestured to the girl standing behind her, nudging her forward. "And this is your fiancée, Amelia." Through the crack in the door, I saw a bright-eyed, beautiful girl step forward. She was wearing a chic camel-colored trench coat. She gave a playful wink and took Julian’s hand, her smile sickeningly sweet. "Julian, how could you forget me?" she cooed. "It's okay. I'll stay with you until you remember everything." 2 Amelia. I remembered that name. One of Julian's buddies had brought her up at a party once. "That Amelia Hayes has been obsessed with you since you were kids, man. Following you around, telling everyone she was going to marry you." "She’s been waiting for you forever. Aren't you going to give the poor girl an answer?" Julian had just swirled the ice in his glass and chuckled. "Plenty of women chase me. Am I supposed to marry all of them? If you ask me, anyone who gets married is an idiot." He said all this while casually feeding me a spoonful of gelato. I was perched on his lap, playing the part of the perfect, well-behaved sugar baby, pretending I hadn't heard a thing. I always knew Julian was allergic to commitment. He hated being tied down, hated complications. He was a creature of impulse. He’d wake me up at 2 AM to take his private jet to Aspen, just to ski. He’d complain that he’d never seen me in a bikini while tracing the curve of my waist, and the next thing I knew, we were on a flight to the Maldives. We kissed on snow-covered slopes and held each other in crystal-clear water, acting like a couple deeply in love. But we never once said the words. Now, on the other side of the door, Julian was frowning, studying Amelia with a blank expression. When he didn't say anything, Mrs. Croft prompted nervously, "You two were so close... but we can't keep Amelia waiting forever. Julian, what do you think about having the engagement party next month?" Julian closed his eyes and leaned back against the pillows. "She doesn't really seem like my type," he said lazily. "Are you guys messing with me?" Mrs. Croft and Amelia both stiffened. Then, the handsome man on the bed spoke again. "But if it was already decided, then I guess next month is fine." Hearing that, I finally let out the breath I was holding. I looked down and placed a hand on my stomach, a smile spreading across my face instead of tears. 3 Julian didn't know I was pregnant. We were always so careful. I have no idea what went wrong. When I saw the two pink lines on the pregnancy test, my mind went blank. But my very first thought was—I want to keep it. Julian and I had different views on marriage. I didn't care about getting married, but I've always wanted a child of my own. And if I was going to have one, the father should have good genes: handsome, tall, smart... Julian checked all the boxes. At the same time, I knew I could never tell him. He thought marriage was a trap; how would he react to a baby appearing out of nowhere? He’d probably think it was a scheme to lock him down. He would, without a doubt, make me get rid of it. I had been racking my brain for an excuse to end our arrangement. And then, at this perfect moment, Julian got amnesia. He had no idea who I was. Could there be a better time to disappear? My decision was made. I was leaving tonight. 4 While Julian was still in the hospital, I rushed back to his penthouse. I was halfway through packing when the housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, walked in, looking concerned. "Miss Winters, are you... running away?" she asked, wringing her hands. "If Mr. Croft comes back and you're gone, what am I supposed to tell him?" If I just vanished, she'd be a loose end. So, I told her the truth. "Mrs. Croft has arranged his engagement. My contract with Julian is over," I explained. "He has amnesia now; he doesn't remember me. If you want to keep your job here, you'll forget about me too." Mrs. Gable nodded vigorously, getting the message immediately. Just in case, I took out my phone and sent her a generous "severance package" via Zelle. "Please, keep this a secret, Mrs. Gable." The second the words were out of my mouth, my phone buzzed with an incoming call. I answered. A cool, unfamiliar-yet-familiar voice came through the speaker. "Who is this?" 5 The accident was bad. Julian had smashed his phone along with his head. He never saved contacts with names, just numbers. He was probably going through his new phone, trying to figure out who was who. Crap. I almost forgot about that. Thinking fast, I pitched my voice a little higher, a little rougher. "Mr. Croft, this is Maria. I was your housekeeper. You fired me last week because my cooking was terrible." It wasn't a total lie. I had tried to be the domestic type once, pulling up recipes online to cook for him. It was a disaster. The first meal I made gave him food poisoning so bad he spent three days in the hospital on an IV drip. After that, I was banned from the kitchen. There was a pause on the other end. "Was I really that bored?" he mused. "Saving the housekeeper's number." He paused again. "Is that you in your profile picture? You look... familiar." My heart leaped into my throat. I forced myself to sound calm. "No, it's just a picture I found online." "Hm," he said, and hung up. A second later, a notification popped up. Julian Croft is no longer in your contacts. What a jerk, I thought, rolling my eyes. 6 The picture was one Julian had taken. He'd gone through a phase where he bought a fancy new camera, claiming he wanted to get into bird photography. I was his first test subject. In the photo, I had fallen asleep against a trellis in the garden. The backlighting made my face a little blurry, but with the pruning shears and a trowel at my feet, I did kind of look like a gardener. I stared at it for a second, then, without hesitation, I changed it. After triple-checking that I had erased every trace of myself from his life, I walked out of Julian Croft's penthouse with my suitcase. The city lights blurred past the car window as we drove away. Watching the building shrink in the distance, the weight of the pregnancy I'd been carrying on my shoulders finally lifted. I couldn't help but grin. "Baby," I whispered to my stomach, "we finally ditched your deadbeat dad. Let's go home."
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