Aurora's POV
I knew he wouldn't easily buy my amnesia act, but I hadn't expected him to be so blunt.
I put on a mask of polite confusion.
"I'm afraid I don't quite follow, Mr. Gallagher," I replied, my tone perfectly even. "My doctors have been very clear about my condition. Perhaps you're confusing me with someone else?"
I gently tugged on Elliot's arm. "Elliot, I really need to step away for a moment. This conversation is getting a bit... confusing."
Elliot offered a polite, somewhat stiff nod. "Conrad, if you'll excuse us. Aurora needs to rest."
Hand on my back, he guided me away, weaving through the thinning crowd. I could feel the heat of Conrad's stare burning into my back the entire way.
As we walked, we cast a stealthy glance over our shoulders.
Conrad was still standing there, watching us, his dark, commanding figure standing out starkly against the glittering backdrop of the ballroom.
"Hurry, Elliot," I whispered.
"Copy that." Elliot picked up the pace, leading me down a secluded corridor toward a private lounge.
He pulled the heavy double doors shut behind him, instantly blanketing the room in silence.
He turned to me, a sly grin playing on his lips. "Well, that was a dramatic exit, wouldn't you say? Straight out of a movie. I half expected him to declare his undying love and sweep you away in a horse-drawn carriage."
I rolled my eyes. "Don't be ridiculous, Elliot. Even if true love bit him on the ass, he wouldn't recognize it. A carriage? Please. He'd probably have a self-driving Tesla waiting."
Elliot's laughter always had a way of grounding me.
Like me, he came from old money. However, Elliot had always bucked family expectations, choosing architecture over finance, pursuing passion over profit.
He knew the suffocating weight of family expectations all too well. Because of that, he understood my need for this fake engagement—a mutual escape hatch from our respective families' pressures.
It was a partnership, a strategic alliance, but it felt like much more than that.
"So," Elliot's tone softened, "five years together. Any regrets?"
I shook my head. "It's only a relationship if the love is mutual. One-sided devotion is just playing the martyr."
As I spoke, my hand accidentally brushed against the soft fabric of Conrad's coat, which was still draped over my shoulders.
"Oh, for god's sake." I yanked the coat off. "Elliot, please, go give this back to him."
Elliot took the coat. "On it."
"I'll be right here, waiting by the window," I said, pointing to a secluded alcove. "Make it quick."
He nodded, gave my hand a comforting squeeze, and disappeared back through the double doors. I watched him go, then walked over to the window, gazing out at the city lights.
Suddenly, a deep, abrupt voice sounded behind me: "Looking for someone?"
I froze, my blood running cold. I knew that voice. It was Conrad.
I turned around slowly, my heart hammering in my chest.
"Mr. Gallagher," I said, striving for a perfectly neutral tone. "I assumed you had left. I sent Elliot to return your jacket..."
Before I could finish, he moved. His hand shot out, wrapping like a vice around my wrist.
"I need to talk to you," he said, his voice raspy.
"What do you want?" I demanded, wrenching myself free from his grip.
"Aurora," he murmured, his voice low and dark. "Tell me, have you really forgotten everything we shared? Forgotten everything about us?"
I hesitated, my breath catching in my throat. "I... I told you," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. "My memory... isn't what it used to be."
"Oh? You remember Elliot, but conveniently forgot me?"
I pressed my lips together, finding that difficult to answer.
"And what about this?" His voice was thick with gravel. Without waiting for a reply, he lunged forward and crashed his lips onto mine, rough and domineering.
The sudden assault shocked me, panic instantly short-circuiting my brain. His hands, resting on my shoulders, slid up my neck to cup my jaw, pulling me flush against him.
His kiss was aggressive. My head spun, and I couldn't breathe.
This wasn't love; it was a violation.
Conrad must have sensed my revulsion and my violent resistance. He pulled back slightly, his breathing heavy and ragged. In the dim light, his eyes were wild and desperate. But he didn't let me go; his arms remained locked around my waist, holding me captive.
"You're so beautiful, Aurora," he whispered hoarsely. "There's no way you've forgotten everything."
"Tell me, Aurora. Do you really have amnesia? Or is it... selective amnesia? Are you forgetting me on purpose?"
