The Dead Ex-Fiancée He Destroyed Came Back as a Billionaire

I have severe prosopagnosia. Every face looks the same to me.

The only thing I ever recognized was the red burn scar on the back of my fiancé Abner Harding's neck.

I gave him that mark the night I carried him out of a burning building on my back, nearly dying in the process.

He always held my hand tight in crowds：“It doesn't matter that you can't tell people apart, Maud Simmons. As long as I can find my bride in a sea of faces, that's enough.”

When I went to his private villa looking for him, I heard soft moaning through a half-open guest room door.

I pushed the door wider. A man and a woman, tangled together.

Abner's voice was hoarse, coaxing：“Be good, Wendy. Just a little longer.”

“Tomorrow, after I cut the cake with her and get the Simmons family heirloom to trade for the controlling shares, I'll take you abroad to treat your leg.”

“Every time I look at her standing there, too stupid to even recognize who I am, it turns my stomach.”

The laughter from inside was sweet and coy, but the triumph underneath couldn't be hidden：“And yet you put on that devoted lover act every single day. I'm getting jealous~”

Outside the door, I said nothing. My gaze locked on the red mark shifting on the back of his neck.

So all this time, he believed the person who wrecked her legs saving him from that fire was my younger sister, Wendy Simmons.

All this time, he had the wrong person. And everything I felt for him, he ground under his heel.

Let that fire have taken me, too, then.

……

I went home.

Locked the bedroom door behind me.

Took out my phone, scrolled through my contacts, and dialed the overseas number.

“Doctor, I agree to fly to Los Angeles next month for the surgery.”

A pause on the other end. Then relief crept into his voice.

“Miss Simmons, you've finally come around. Your severe prosopagnosia was caused by nerve damage to the brain from the fire. If you keep putting this off, the condition will only deteriorate. Has Mr. Harding agreed to come with you?”

“No.”

I cut him off.

“I'm going alone. Set up confidential processing for me.”

I hung up, pulled open the drawer, and dug out the thick photo album.

In every picture, Abner had his arms around me, smiling gently.

Those photos were the only happiness I had left from the past three years.

I picked up the scissors.

One clean cut.

Split the two of us apart.

His half went straight into the trash.

The next morning.

The sound of a car engine dying in the driveway below.

The bedroom door swung open.

Abner walked in carrying the cold of early morning on his coat and a bag of crab roe buns from that old shop on the south side of town.

“Maud, you awake?”

His voice was warm and smooth.

I sat on the edge of the bed.

Looking at his face, which to my eyes was still nothing but a blank page.

Then he turned to pour water at the table, and the dark red burn scar on the back of his neck came into view.

I stared at that scar.

Last night's “turns my stomach” stabbed straight into my brain nerves.

He brought the water over and held the bag of buns out to me.

“Wendy's leg was hurting badly last night. I took her to the hospital and stayed with her.”

“Sorry I didn't make it back for dinner.”

He reached out to stroke my hair.

I turned my head away.

Dodged his touch completely.

His hand froze in midair.

“Maud?”

A thread of displeasure slipped into his voice. “What's wrong? Are you upset I wasn't here?”

Wendy was wheeled in.

“I'm sorry, Maud.”

Her eyes were rimmed red, her voice soft and fragile.

“It's all because of my leg……the doctor says it's damage left over from the fire. Every time the weather changes, the pain is unbearable.”

“Abner was just worried something might happen to me. Please don't be mad at him.”