It took Leo Vance two years of relentless pursuit to finally wear me down. Two years to pry me from the life I knew and make me his. Once we were together, his possessiveness was a beautiful, suffocating storm. Then came the crash. He lost his memory, and I lost him. I fled, seeking refuge in a new city, a new life. Five years later, fate, in its cruel way, threw us back together. The more our paths crossed, the darker and more inscrutable his gaze became whenever he looked at me. Finally, he cornered me, the question burning in his eyes. "Are you married?" "I am," I lied. He took a few seconds to absorb the blow, his jaw tight. "And your husband?" he pressed. "Forgive me for being blunt, but a man who doesn't cherish his wife and child isn't a man at all. Is getting a divorce an option? Because I'd like to marry you." 1. I stood just outside the hospital room, the space inside already crowded with Leo’s friends. Their voices muffled through the door. “Leo, buddy, I know this is going to sound insane, but every word is the God's honest truth,” one of them said, his voice earnest. “You have a girlfriend. You’ve been together for almost six months. And man, you fought for her. Poached her from another guy after a two-year campaign.” Leo’s disbelief was palpable even from the hallway. I could picture him, head cocked, scanning the faces of his friends for the punchline. But every single one of them nodded in solemn confirmation. Just when they thought he might be convinced, his voice cut through the room, laced with incredulous laughter. "Wait, you're telling me I became that guy? A homewrecker? For some woman?" He scoffed. "Get real. I'm not the marrying kind. I’m not even the 'girlfriend' kind." A collective groan went through the room. His friends, undeterred, launched into a chaotic, overlapping narrative, painting a vivid picture of his obsessive quest to win me over—the extravagant gestures, the sleepless nights, the sheer, unrelenting effort it took. But no matter how detailed their stories, Leo remained unconvinced. "Alright, guys, very funny," he said, waving them off. "I lost my memory, I didn't lose my mind. Besides," he added, a note of self-satisfaction in his voice, "I have more integrity than that. I'd never go after one of my own buddy's girlfriends." A bitter laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it. He really had no idea who he was, did he? 2. Just as I was about to push the door open, a woman with a perfectly coiffed helmet of hair and a Chanel suit appeared, flanked by two imposing men in black. "Julia?" she asked, her voice as crisp as a winter morning. "Yes." She didn't waste time with pleasantries. "I'm Leo's mother." Her eyes swept over me, a quick, dismissive appraisal. "Leo is awake. Fortunately, he's fine. He's just forgotten a few… insignificant people and things." She pressed down on the word "insignificant," her disdain for me a tangible thing. "So, let's talk numbers. How much will it take for you to leave my son for good?" She pulled a platinum card from her designer handbag and tossed it onto a nearby table. "A million dollars. Is that enough?" "Take it," she commanded, "and disappear. Don't ever let him see you again." My voice trembled. "Why? Just yesterday, he was…" "Yesterday?" she scoffed, cutting me off. "Yesterday doesn't matter. What matters is that now, he has no idea who you are. You are a complete stranger. Leo needs a partner from a suitable family, someone who can advance our name. Not a piece of trouble who almost got him killed." Her gaze was like ice, making me feel like something she'd found on the bottom of her shoe. "Now, take the money and vanish quietly," she ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Or I'll be forced to use other means to teach you your place." The bodyguards took a step forward, their presence a silent, looming threat. I stumbled back, my heart hammering against my ribs. Seeing my terrified silence, a cruel smirk touched her lips. "Fine. I'll give you a chance to see for yourself." She produced a photograph from her purse. Before I could process what was happening, she had dragged me back to the doorway and pushed the door open. She held the photo out to Leo. "Darling, have you ever seen this woman? They say she's your girlfriend." I watched, my breath caught in my throat, as Leo shook his head, a playful grin on his face. "Mom, you too? What's with all the jokes today?" he said lightly. "I can guarantee you, I've never laid eyes on her in my life." His mother’s lips curved into a triumphant smile. She shot me a look over her shoulder, a final, victorious dismissal. My fingers closed around the cold plastic of the card she'd shoved into my hand. The dam broke. Tears streamed down my face, hot and silent. Inside the room, the conversation continued as if I didn't exist. "The Sheffield girl, Isabelle, is quite taken with you," his mother said. "We should start planning the engagement party." Leo didn't hesitate. "I have no objections. You handle it." I don't remember how I left the hospital. I stumbled back to my apartment and collapsed against the door, sliding down to the floor. My shoulders shook with violent, silent sobs, the tears blurring the world into a watercolor mess. It had all happened too fast, too brutally. Just yesterday, I was dreaming of the moment I’d tell him I was pregnant, picturing him lifting me up and spinning me around in pure joy. And today, he was gone. He remembered everyone, except me. I once asked him, teasingly, if he'd remember me if he ever got amnesia. He’d kissed me then, deep and sure. "Even if I forgot your name," he’d promised, "my heart would recognize you the second I saw you. I would fall for you all over again." He was a liar. 3. It was my fifth year of raising our son alone in Port Blossom. I saw the news online: Leo Vance, heir to the Vance Corporation, was officially engaged to Isabelle Sheffield. A handsome couple, the picture of perfection. I didn't have time for heartbreak. My son, Finn, had a fever. I was standing in the pouring rain, desperately trying to hail a cab to the hospital. And just like that, in a twist of cosmic cruelty, he was there. St. Jude was over a thousand miles from Port Blossom. I had no idea why he would be here, at this hospital, at this exact moment. Seeing him, the fragile thread of composure I held onto snapped. I wanted to march up to him, to scream, to demand answers. But then another woman appeared at his side—beautiful, elegant, laughing at something he'd said. A small, genuine smile touched Leo’s lips. They were in their own world, a bubble no one could penetrate. My stare must have been too intense. He turned his head, and our eyes met across the rain-streaked entrance. Panic seized me. I spun away, clutching Finn tighter, and hurried past them. As I rushed by, I heard her voice, light and curious, drift after me. "Why were you staring at her like that?" And then his, low and thoughtful. "I don't know. She just… looks incredibly familiar." I walked faster, my only thought to disappear. 4. Two days later, Finn was begging to go to the park. I relented, hoping the fresh air would do us both good. I shouldn't have been surprised when I saw him again. "Mommy! Mommy!" Finn tugged on my sleeve, pulling me from my daze. "What is it, sweetie?" I tore my gaze away from Leo, who was walking a magnificent Golden Retriever. Finn’s eyes were wide with delight, instantly captivated. "Mommy, a big doggy!" he squealed. "Can Finn pet him? Please?" Finn. I’d named him that hoping his life would be simple and straightforward, unlike mine. It was the greatest wish I had for him. I knelt down to his level. "Not without asking the owner first, honey," I said softly, stroking his hair. "But look, there's a man selling candy apples over there. How about we get one of those instead?" The candy apple strategy worked. He grabbed my hand and started pulling me in the other direction. We’d only taken a few steps when the Golden Retriever suddenly broke away, bounding towards me, its tail wagging furiously, whining with excitement. I flinched back, startled. Leo's brow furrowed as he yanked firmly on the leash. "Sorry about that," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I have no idea why Gia is acting like this. She’s usually so calm." I scooped Finn into my arms, my eyes fixed on a point just past Leo's shoulder. "It's fine," I mumbled, turning to leave. But his voice stopped me. "Excuse me. Have we met before?" I froze. My heart felt like it had been seized by an icy fist. "No," I managed to say, the word catching in my throat. "Never." The scene in the hospital five years ago flashed in my mind—his mother, the photograph, his easy denial. He didn't know me then. He shouldn't know me now. I hurried away, clutching my son like a shield. This time, he didn't try to stop me. 5. On Monday, a work emergency made me late to pick Finn up from preschool. When I finally arrived, I saw a little girl playing with him on the slide. Standing nearby, watching them, was a man in a tailored suit. As I got closer, my stomach dropped. It was Leo. "Uncle Leo," the little girl's innocent voice piped up, "do you think Finn's mommy abandoned him? She's so late." She looked up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. "If she doesn't want him, can I take him home with me?" Leo's reply was curt. "No." "Mommy!" Finn spotted me and came running, his little legs pumping. I swept him into a hug, burying my face in his hair. Steeling myself, I turned to Leo. "Thank you for watching him." "You're welcome," he said, his voice polite, formal. But his eyes were a different story. From the moment I’d appeared, his gaze had been locked on me—dark, intense, and searching. It never wavered. "Well, we should get going," I said, taking Finn's hand. "Let me give you a ride." Before I could refuse, the little girl had already dragged Finn towards Leo’s sleek black car. "Come on, Mommy! Hurry up! There are so many toys in here!" I looked at my son, his face alight with excitement, and sighed in defeat. I took the passenger seat, leaving the back for the two children. They chattered and played until they eventually tired themselves out and fell asleep. The car pulled up in front of my apartment building. I reached for my seatbelt, eager to escape the charged silence. "Are you married?" Leo’s voice, quiet in the confined space, made me jump. My own voice was barely a whisper. "Yes." The ensuing silence was heavy, suffocating. I could feel his gaze on me, probing, dissecting, trying to unravel the mystery I presented. Then, he spoke again, his tone edged with something I couldn't quite decipher. "So, where is your husband? Why isn't he the one picking up his son? Why does he leave it all to you?" He paused. "Forgive me for being blunt, but any man who doesn't cherish his wife and child isn't worth keeping." 6. The way he spoke… it was an echo from a lifetime ago. Back when I was with Nathan, Leo would say things just like that. Whenever Nathan didn't come home, a video would magically appear on Leo’s social media feed—Nathan, arm draped around some other girl at a club. If I ever accidentally ‘liked’ the post, a private message would follow instantly: 【Hey, I'm sure Nathan still loves you.】 【He's just being a guy, you know? It doesn't mean anything.】 【Not like me. I've never even held a girl's hand.】 【Don't worry, though. I'm keeping an eye on him for you.】 He pretended to be a peacemaker, but every word was a perfectly aimed drop of gasoline on a smoldering fire. Eventually, he dropped the pretense. "He doesn't deserve you, Julia. Give me a chance." I wasn't surprised. His intentions had been clear from the start. Under the relentless pressure of his campaign, my relationship with Nathan crumbled. The day we broke up, Leo swept in, a conquering hero claiming his prize. The night I officially became his girlfriend, he had me pinned against the front door, his kisses fierce and possessive. That’s when Nathan, trying to win me back, let himself in. I’d forgotten to delete his fingerprint from the lock. "What the hell are you two doing?!" he'd roared. "Leo! She's my girlfriend! You're my best friend!" Leo had just laughed, a low, dangerous sound. "Who ever wanted to be your friend? Besides," he'd added, his voice dropping, "don't yell at me. If she didn't want this, do you think I'd even have a chance?" … He was still the same ruthless, infuriating man. He said the most outrageous things as if they were simple facts. "Is getting a divorce an option? I'd like to marry you, too." Boom. It felt like something exploded in my head. I snapped my gaze to his, my heart hammering against my ribs. "What did you just say?" The seconds stretched into an eternity as I waited for his answer. "I'm kidding," he said with a light chuckle. A wave of disappointment, sharp and unwelcome, washed over me. "That's not funny, Mr. Vance," I said, my voice flat. I unbuckled my seatbelt again, but the doors remained locked. "Can I have your number?" he asked, his tone shifting. Then he added, with a faux-apologetic air that was anything but, "I assume your husband wouldn't mind?" My brow tightened. I honestly couldn't tell if this was a game, or if he truly remembered nothing. "Mr. Vance, I don't think we have any reason to be in contact." He was engaged, after all, and I had no desire to be the other woman. I opened the back door, carefully lifted my sleeping son, and walked away without looking back. 7. Life settled into a fragile peace. For a while, I didn't see Leo. I tried to convince myself I was over him, that the feelings were long buried. But a few chance encounters had been enough to stir up a storm inside me. I threw myself into my work, taking on two major projects, hoping to bury my thoughts under deadlines and spreadsheets. But then, during a particularly difficult meeting with my boss, the memory of him rose, unbidden. "Julia, I'm so sorry, but Mr. Henderson specifically requested you for this project," my boss said, his expression pained. He knew as well as I did what a "business meeting" at a private club with a man like Henderson entailed. But the account was too important for our small firm. And I had been the one to pitch for it. I had no choice. That evening, in a dimly lit private lounge thick with the smell of cheap cologne, Mr. Henderson’s hand clamped around my wrist like a vice. "The contract is an easy thing, Ms. Evans," he slurred, his breath hot and sour. "It all depends on how… accommodating you're willing to be." A wave of nausea churned in my stomach. "Let go of me." His face hardened into an ugly sneer. He raised his other hand. "Don't play hard to get with me, little girl." I braced for the slap, but it never came. A hand, lean and powerful with long, elegant fingers, shot out and caught Henderson’s wrist in a grip of steel. Time seemed to freeze. I looked up and met a pair of eyes as deep and dark as a starless night. Leo. His face was a blank mask, but the muscle ticking in his clenched jaw promised a storm. "Henderson," he said, his voice dangerously low. "Getting bold, are we? Causing trouble in my establishment." The next thing I knew, Henderson was on his knees, sputtering apologies. "A misunderstanding, Mr. Vance! Just a joke, a terrible joke!" Leo didn't even glance at him. His entire focus was on the red, angry marks blooming on my wrist. In an instant, the room was empty, save for the two of us. It had been weeks since I’d last seen him. I never imagined our next meeting would be like this. The walls I had so carefully constructed around my heart crumbled into dust, leaving me exposed and humiliated. "Thank you," I whispered, my voice raw. "Julia," he said, his tone unreadable. "Is this how you do your job?" I couldn't tell if it was concern or accusation, but all I felt was shame. I couldn't meet his eyes, terrified of the disgust I might find there. "It's none of your concern, Mr. Vance." I scrubbed at the tears welling in my eyes. "Julia, look at me." I refused, keeping my head bowed. He knelt in front of me, his warm hand gently cupping the back of my neck, forcing my head up. I looked at him then, my vision swimming with tears of frustration and helplessness. If he hadn't lost his memory, if he remembered everything, I wouldn't be in this mess. I wouldn't be suffering like this. "Why are you crying?" he asked, his voice softer now. My resolve shattered. I threw my arms around his neck and buried my face in his shoulder. Just this once. I would allow myself this one moment of weakness. He stiffened for a second, then his arms came around me, holding me securely. After a long moment, I pulled away, composing myself. "Thank you again," I said, my voice steady. Leo looked completely baffled by my sudden shift. He stared at me, then a half-smile played on his lips. "What was that, Julia? Use me and toss me aside?" I managed a small, tight smile. "I'm sorry. I mistook you for him." "Is that so?" he said, his voice laced with a bitter, sarcastic edge. "Then it seems your taste in men is as poor as ever." I had no comeback for that. He was right about Nathan, and he was right about himself. "You're right," I conceded. My agreement seemed to infuriate him more than any argument could have. He turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. A few minutes later, I left too. I stood on the cold street, my phone’s rideshare app endlessly searching for a driver. The wind cut through my thin blouse, and I wrapped my arms around myself. A car screeched to a halt in front of me. The passenger window glided down. "Get in," Leo ordered, his voice clipped. I had decided after that hug that our paths would never cross again. I ignored him, pretending I hadn't heard. "I never figured you for a bad mother, Julia," he said conversationally into the night air. "But I guess you're just as neglectful as a wife. Poor kid, all alone at home." "What are you talking about?" I demanded. "Nothing," he said with a shrug. "Just that it seems I care more about your son's well-being than his own mother does." A nerve twitched in my jaw. The audacity of him, acting like he had any right to care. "He's my son." The subtext was clear: Stay out of it. Leo was unfazed. "I could be his father, you know." Under the dim glow of the streetlight, his face was a collage of shadows and light, as uncertain as our future. "You're joking, Mr. Vance," I said, shaking my head. He turned to face me fully, his expression deadly serious. "I'm not joking, Julia." We stared at each other for a long moment, the city's noise fading into the background. He was the first to look away. "Just get in the car. Your son is probably worried sick." I wanted to tell him Finn was safe at a friend's house. But I didn't. I got in the car.
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