He Faked Amnesia To Break Our Vows

I was sealing our wedding invitations with crimson wax when I heard my fiancé through the slightly ajar study door.

Ethan wasn't reciting the poetry he’d written for me over the last seven years. He was outlining the logistics of his betrayal.

"If I fake amnesia after the 'accident' tonight, I can delay the wedding without the family stopping the merger," Ethan laughed, ice clinking in his glass.

"And Ava? The Canary?" his friend asked.

"Ava is property. You maintain property; you don't have fun with it. While she plays nurse, I get a medical exemption to sleep with Chloe."

My world shattered. I fled into the rainy night, blinded by tears, until headlights turned my world upside down.

I woke up in the wreckage, my arm shattered, tasting blood. Ethan arrived moments later.

But he didn't run to me.

He stepped right over my bleeding body to comfort Chloe, who had a minor scratch on her forehead.

"I've got you, baby," he cooed to his mistress, looking at me with nothing but cold annoyance. "Don't worry about her. She's tough."

He left me in the street.

By the next morning, the narrative was set: The tragic Don had lost his memory of his fiancée, but miraculously remembered his 'true love,' Chloe. He evicted me from our penthouse while I was still in surgery.

He thought he had won. He thought the Canary would just die in the cold.

He forgot one thing. I knew where he hid the bodies—literally.

I walked into his staged public proposal, slammed my ring on the table, and left a note under it.

*I remember everything. And so do you.*

Then I boarded a plane with his secret incriminating journal in my bag. The empire was about to burn.

Chapter 1

Ava Miller POV

I was sealing the envelope for our wedding invitation with hot wax when I heard my fiancé outlining the logistics of his betrayal.

The wax was crimson. Blood red. It dripped onto the heavy cream paper, pooling into the crest of the Reed family. A lion holding a rose. I pressed the brass seal down, my movements practiced and perfect.

That was what I was. Practiced. Perfect. The future Mrs. Ethan Reed.

For seven years, I had been the envy of every socialite in New York. Ethan wasn't just the heir to a business empire that operated in the city's grayest shadows; he was a poet. A tortured soul. Or at least, that was the man he showed me.

I looked at the stack of invitations. Five hundred guests. The Plaza Hotel. It was the fairytale ending to a romance that started in the library of Columbia University.

He used to slide poems across the table to me. Sonnets about my eyes. Haikus about my laugh. He told me I was the only pure thing in his dark world. He told me he needed me to breathe.

I believed him.

I was the canary in his golden cage. I sang when he asked. I dressed how he liked. I ignored the whispers about his family, the "business," the *Omertà* code of silence that ruled his life. I told myself it was just background noise. I told myself that as long as Ethan loved me, the darkness couldn't touch us.

I picked up another envelope. My hand trembled slightly. Not from fear, but from excitement. Two weeks. Just two weeks until I was officially his.

The door to his study was ajar. It was usually locked.

I stood up to close it. I didn't want to disturb him; he’d mentioned important calls with the family lawyers.

I walked across the plush carpet, my footsteps absorbed by the wool. I reached for the handle.

"Knock it off, Leo. I'm serious."

Ethan's voice cut through the gap. It wasn't the soft, melodic voice he used with me. It was hard. Cold. Metallic.

"So, let me get this straight," Leo's voice crackled through the speakerphone. "You're actually running the amnesia play?"

I froze. My hand hovered over the brass knob.

"It's the only way," Ethan said. I could hear the clink of ice against glass. Scotch. He was drinking. "If I have amnesia, I can delay the wedding without cancelling it. The family won't let me cancel. Not with the merger pending."

"And the girl? The canary?" Leo asked.

"Ava?" Ethan scoffed. The sound was like a physical blow to my stomach. "Ava will do what she always does. She'll wait. She'll nurse me. She'll cry pretty tears by my bedside."

I couldn't breathe. The air in the hallway suddenly felt thin, vacuumed out by his cruelty.

"And while she's playing nurse," Ethan continued, his voice dripping with amusement, "I get a hall pass. A medical exemption. I can't be held responsible for who I sleep with if I don't remember who I'm engaged to, right?"

"You're evil, man," Leo laughed. "Is this about the influencer? Chloe Vance?"

"Chloe is... fun," Ethan said. "She's wild. Ava is just property. You don't have fun with property. You maintain it."

My knees gave out. I grabbed the doorframe to stop myself from sliding to the floor.

Property.

Seven years of love poems. Seven years of devotion.

Property.

"So, the accident happens tonight?" Leo asked.

"Tonight," Ethan confirmed. "I'll take the Porsche. A little fender bender. A bump to the head. And then, freedom."

I backed away. One step. Two steps.

I turned and ran. I didn't know where I was going. I just knew I had to get out of this house. Out of this cage.

I snatched my keys from the console table. My vision was blurred. I stumbled out the front door into the rainy New York night.

I got into my car. My hands were shaking so hard I could barely turn the ignition.

Property.

I pulled out of the driveway, tires screeching against the wet asphalt. I needed to go to Maya's. She would know what to do. Maya always knew what to do.

I didn't see the black SUV running the red light at the intersection.

I didn't see it until the headlights filled my world with a blinding, sterile white.

Then, there was only the sound of metal screaming against metal, and the world turning upside down.