The night before my engagement party, I took a tumble down a flight of stairs. After being unconscious for a day and a night, I overheard the doctor telling my fiancé that I might have amnesia. A wicked little idea sparked in my mind—a prank on Graham. So, I pretended. “Who are you?” The smile on Graham’s face froze for a fraction of a second, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. But in the next instant, he wrapped his arm around the woman standing beside him, pulling her into his embrace. “I’m your best friend’s boyfriend.” 1 Ava was my best friend. And at this moment, she was being held in my boyfriend’s arms. A flicker of surprise crossed her face, but it was quickly swallowed by a wave of joy she could barely contain. “That’s right! I’m your best friend, Sadie. And this is my boyfriend!” A tremor shot through my body, a violent, electric shock. It felt like all the blood in my veins was reversing course, rushing back to my heart in a painful flood. I had started a small, silly joke. I hadn't expected to become the punchline. “You’re kidding, right?” I managed to force the words out. This had to be a joke. They must have seen through my act and decided to play one back on me, right? “Why would we be kidding?” Ava said, wiggling the fingers of her right hand. An enormous diamond on her ring finger caught the sterile hospital light and threw it back in my face, nearly blinding me. “See? Graham and I were supposed to have our engagement party today. We had to cancel it when you had your accident.” That ring. A ten-carat, Asscher-cut diamond. The one Graham had spent months designing just for me. Now it was on my best friend’s hand. “You two…” I started, my voice trembling. “When did you get together?” Ava leaned her head against Graham’s chest, looking up at him lovingly. “Oh, us? We’ve been together for five years.” Graham’s expression tightened. He shot a nervous glance in my direction, gauging my reaction. When he saw nothing but blank confusion, a subtle sigh of relief escaped him. Five years. I had been with Graham for five years, too. So, it had been happening from the very beginning. My best friend and my boyfriend, a shared life behind my back. 2 Graham made a quick call. A few minutes later, a devastatingly handsome man appeared in the doorway of my hospital room. Declan. Graham’s best friend, and the one person in our circle who seemed to truly despise me. Both Graham and Declan were scions of New York’s oldest, wealthiest families. I was from a small, forgettable town in Ohio. From the moment Graham introduced me, his trust-fund friends made it clear they thought I was a gold digger. Their condescension was a constant, low-grade hum in my life. Declan’s was the loudest. He was the master of the dismissive glance, the cold shoulder. He hadn't even deigned to RSVP to our engagement party. And now, here he was, his deep-set eyes locked on mine. “This,” Graham announced with the smooth, unbothered air of a master manipulator, “is your boyfriend.” He paused for effect. “Declan.” Just like that, my boyfriend was switched out like a player on a bench. Graham delivered the lie without a single flicker of hesitation, but I couldn’t believe Declan would go along with such a ridiculous, cruel charade. A slow, deliberate smile spread across Declan’s lips. “That’s right,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “I’m your boyfriend.” I was so profoundly shocked, I couldn't speak. Graham handed me off to Declan as if I were a piece of luggage, then left with Ava. Declan and I stood there, staring at each other in a silence that stretched for what felt like an eternity. Finally, I broke it, my voice barely a whisper. “Take me home.” 3 Declan handled my discharge paperwork, and I numbly followed him out of the hospital and into a sleek black car that whispered through the city streets. He told me we’d been together for years. As I walked into his sprawling, minimalist penthouse overlooking Central Park, I saw no trace of myself anywhere—no photos, no clothes, no clutter. But I played my part, nodding along like a fool. He found a pair of women’s slippers for me in a closet. When I slid my feet into them, they fit perfectly. With a startling gentleness, he swept me into his arms, carried me to the couch, and laid me down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. I flinched, instinctively trying to pull away, but he cupped my chin, holding me steady. There was nowhere to run. “Easy, Sadie,” he murmured. “I’m going to make you something to eat.” I’d almost forgotten. I hadn’t eaten in days. It struck me as odd that a man like Declan, a titan of industry, didn’t have a chef or even a housekeeper. It was hard to picture him coming home after a day of corporate warfare to cook his own dinner. Drawn by the sounds, I found my way to the kitchen. He was standing at a marble island, methodically cracking eggs into a bowl. A voice message was playing from his phone, which was propped up against a knife block. It was Graham. “Just look after her for me for a bit, man.” Declan’s voice, a low response: “Aren’t you afraid she’ll break up with you when she gets her memory back?” Graham’s laugh was arrogant, dismissive. “Afraid? Please. The whole city knows how much she loves me. She could catch me in bed with another woman and she’d still marry me.” “If you want to be with Ava, why not just break up with Sadie?” “Because I do love Sadie,” Graham said, his tone shifting as if that explained everything. “She’s just… boring in bed. Utterly vanilla. Once I’m done having my fun, I’ll come get her. She’ll be right where I left her.” Declan didn’t reply, focusing on whisking the eggs with intense concentration. “Declan,” Graham’s voice sharpened with a sudden possessiveness. “You’re my best friend, so I know you’d never go for a girl like Sadie anyway. But I’m warning you: don’t touch her. She’s the woman I’m going to marry.” Before Graham could finish, Declan ended the call. My knees felt weak. I grabbed the doorframe to keep from collapsing. So that was the truth. The man who had showered me with affection, who had made me feel cherished, was a complete fabrication. All along, he’d seen me as dull. Uninteresting. Declan looked up and saw me. He put down the bowl, wiped his hands on a towel with swift precision, and crossed the kitchen in three long strides. He pulled me into his arms, his body a solid wall against my trembling. “What are you doing up?” he asked, his voice soft. “Isn’t it… isn’t it fun?” My own voice was a strained whisper. I shook my head. “I just… I wanted to see if you needed any help.” Declan’s hand came up to gently stroke my hair. “My Sadie doesn’t do things like this. You don’t lift a finger.” His thumb brushed my cheek. “Leave everything to me.” Another lie. He was a better liar than Graham. Every day of my life with Graham had been a cycle of domestic labor. He hated having strangers in the house, so we never had a cleaner. As his girlfriend, I had assumed the role of his unpaid housekeeper. I woke up early to cook his breakfast, I did his laundry, I scrubbed every inch of his massive townhouse until it gleamed. My hands were rough with calluses, the skin etched with fine lines from cleaning products. I had seen him as my future husband, so I’d done it all without a single complaint. “So… your wife wouldn’t have to do any housework?” I asked, my voice muffled against his chest. I could feel the strong, steady beat of his heart. “Of course not,” he said, his voice resonating through me. “You’re the person I love most in the world. I would never let you do any of it.” His tenderness was so convincing, so absolute, that for a moment I almost forgot this was all just a game. Declan’s cooking was incredible. And everything he made was exactly to my taste—that perfect blend of sweet and spicy I adored. “Declan, do you like sweet and spicy food too?” “I made it because you love it,” he said simply. A knot of confusion tightened in my stomach. How could he possibly know that? Even Graham, after five years, had no idea. Graham hated anything sweet. I had trained myself to cook without a pinch of sugar. But Declan knew. It must be a coincidence, I told myself. A lucky guess. That night, I fell asleep in Declan’s enormous bed. Sometime in the middle of the night, I felt him slide in behind me, his arm curling around my waist. His body was a furnace, radiating a warmth that seeped into my bones. It felt safe. I love the heat, so I didn’t move. I let him hold me. I felt his lips brush against the hair at the nape of my neck, followed by a whispered, mournful sigh. “How did he ever let you get so thin?” 5 I slept more deeply than I had in years, and when I woke up, the sun was already high in the sky. Declan’s phone was buzzing incessantly on the nightstand. With a low groan of annoyance, he disentangled himself just enough to grab it, answering the call before settling back against me, pulling me tighter into his arms. “Declan, don’t forget about the get-together tonight.” The voice was clear. It was Graham. Declan idly began twirling a strand of my hair around his finger. It tickled. I made a small sound of protest, a little "tsk," not realizing it would be audible over the phone. “What was that noise?” Graham’s voice sharpened instantly. “Are you in bed with someone?” Declan hung up without a word. He silenced the phone and tossed it aside, then enveloped me completely, his body pressing against mine. The space between us suddenly felt charged, dangerous. The heat radiating from him intensified. I tried to push him away, but his arm was like a steel band around me. “What are you doing!?” My voice was a mix of shock and anger. He didn't loosen his grip. “What am I doing?” he murmured, his voice husky. “I’m doing what boyfriends and girlfriends do.” His beautifully shaped lips moved closer to mine. My heart hammered against my ribs, a wild drumbeat of panic and a strange, illicit thrill. A backlash of misplaced morality choked me. I shoved him with all my might, scrambled out of bed, and fled to the en-suite bathroom. Before I could slam the door, I heard his low, rumbling chuckle from the bedroom. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My face was flushed a shade of crimson that was far from normal. I stayed in that bathroom for nearly half an hour, waiting for my pulse to return to something resembling a resting rate. He had told me we used to kiss all the time, that we’d done everything intimate couples do. He was lying again. The thought was so absurd it almost made me laugh. 6 That evening, Declan took me to dinner. It wasn’t until we arrived that I realized it was the get-together Graham had called about. Ava was there, along with the entire trust-fund crew from the city’s upper crust. Ava was seated next to Graham, wearing a strapless white cocktail dress. Around her neck was the Starlight Sapphire, the necklace Declan had bought for me at an auction last week. I had deemed it too precious to wear, keeping it safe in a glass display case in my walk-in closet. I would just look at it every day, admiring how it caught the light. Graham had teased me, asking if I was ever going to actually put it on. Of course I was. I was saving it for my wedding day. But it was becoming painfully clear that my wedding day with Graham was never going to happen. “Sadie!” Ava cried, jumping up from her seat. She rushed over, grabbing my hand with the same familiar warmth she always had. “Tonight is kind of a do-over for our engagement party.” Her eyes, sparkling with unconcealed triumph, bored into mine. “I’m so, so happy you could make it!” An engagement party? So this was it. Their official celebration. Her smile was a blatant provocation. I almost dropped my facade right then and there, the truth clawing at my throat. But Declan’s arm slid around my waist, pulling me firmly against his side. His movement was so smooth it also served to disengage my hand from Ava’s grip. Graham hadn’t been paying attention, but the sight of me in Declan’s arms made his eyes narrow. “What are you two talking about?” he asked, his tone low and laced with something dark. “Nothing,” Declan replied evenly. He guided me to a pair of empty chairs at the far end of the long table, as far away from Graham and Ava as possible. The dinner was a cacophony of loud toasts and louder laughter as Graham and his friends drank. The noise pounded in my head. Through it all, Declan was a quiet presence beside me, methodically placing food on my plate. “Hey! Declan!” one of Graham’s friends shouted down the table. “How come you’re not drinking tonight?” Declan didn’t even look up from arranging a piece of salmon on my plate. “I’m driving later.” “Let Sadie drive.” “Driving is stressful,” Declan said, finally lifting his eyes. His gaze was steady. “I don’t like her to do it.” A chorus of oohs and aahs went around the table. The women cooed; the men whistled. The only person not smiling was Graham, whose face had hardened into a granite mask. “How thoughtful of you, Declan,” Graham said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. The festive atmosphere instantly chilled. Someone, sensing the shift, tried to liven things up. “Hey, it’s an engagement party! The happy couple should kiss!” Ava needed no encouragement. She leaned into Graham, pressing her lips to his. For a moment, his expression remained stony, but then the tension eased from his shoulders and he sank into the kiss, deepening it. They kissed like they were the only two people in the room, a tangled, desperate mess of lips and tongues. I thought I had reached the absolute limit of my disappointment in him, but watching them, a wave of nausea so profound it brought tears to my eyes washed over me. It was disgusting. My vision blurred. I fled the table and ran to the restroom. Standing just inside, I heard one of Graham’s friends ask him a question through the door. “Is it a rush, man? Cheating on her right in front of her face?” Graham’s laugh was reckless and wild. “A rush? You have no idea. Besides, Sadie’s lost her memory. And even if she gets it back, she’s never going to leave me.”
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