The most notorious playboy in our circle, Julian Keane, crashed his car and hit his head. When he woke up, his memory had stopped three years in the past. He found me, his voice tight with irritation. "It was just dinner with my ex. How long are you going to throw a fit about it?" I froze. When I finally came to my senses, I lifted the little girl from the floor and held her close. Looking into his bewildered eyes, I said softly, "Julian, we broke up three years ago." "I'm… married now. I have a child." 1 After tucking my daughter into bed for the night, I leaned against the headboard, scrolling through my phone. A news alert popped up on the screen. "February 17th, 9:00 PM: Julian Keane, Chairman and CEO of Apex Global, was involved in a car accident in Los Angeles. He has been rushed to the hospital for emergency treatment. Sources report Mr. Keane suffered severe head trauma and is currently in a coma. For further updates, follow Apex News..." The accompanying photo showed a Bugatti Veyron, mangled almost beyond recognition. Julian was on a stretcher, his head slick with blood, his eyes closed. Even unconscious, his brows were locked in a tight frown. A wave of dizziness washed over me. I hadn't seen him in three years. The whispered intimacies, the heart-shattering pain… back then, I thought I'd carry those memories forever. But in the space of a thousand short days, they had blurred, becoming distant echoes from another lifetime. I lowered my gaze, ready to put my phone away and sleep, when a frantic pounding erupted at my front door. Terrified the noise would wake my daughter, I threw on my slippers and rushed to the living room. When I peered through the peephole, I froze. It was Julian. A bandage was wrapped around his head, already seeping blood, and his face was a mask of pure frustration. "Ava, open the damn door!" he yelled. "I know you're in there, I checked with the doorman!" My mind reeled. I felt a confusing mix of shock and dread as I unlocked the door. "You were just in an accident a few days ago," I stammered. "How are you—" He brushed past me as if he owned the place, his gaze briefly snagging on a pair of men's slippers by the door before moving on. "It's freezing out there," he grumbled, shoving his jacket into my hands. "What are you doing in a godforsaken place like this? What about the villa I bought for you? Why aren't you living there?" His casual, possessive tone left me speechless. I couldn't find the words to respond. The last time we’d seen each other, three years ago, our breakup had been a maelstrom of ugly words and shattered trust. Julian’s face had been a storm cloud of fury, his eyes burning with a look so intense I thought he might actually kill me. "You and your little lover better stay the hell away from me," he’d snarled. "Or I can't guarantee he'll live to see another day." But now, he acted as if none of that had ever happened. He sank into the sofa, patted his thigh, and glanced up at me with a lazy, familiar air. "Come here." The warm, yellow light of the lamp cast long shadows across his face. His eyes, just as I remembered, were slightly upturned, sharp with a cutting arrogance. But he was so devastatingly handsome that the cruelty melted into a kind of untamable charisma. I took a step back, my brow furrowed. "What are you doing here? We're not together anymore." Julian scoffed. "Give me a break. You think I don't know you?" He smirked. "You've probably been crying your eyes out the last two days, haven't you?" "That's enough," he said, waving his hand impatiently. "So I took Isabelle to the hospital. Is that really a reason to be this petty?" When I didn't move, Julian's patience wore thin. He stood up, grabbed my arm, and pulled me towards him. His long, elegant fingers rested on my stomach, his voice softening with a sudden tenderness. "I know. You're pregnant, and your hormones are all over the place, right?" he murmured. "If you really want this baby, then we'll have it. I've even picked out names. If it's a boy, we'll call him Noah. If it's a girl…" That’s when it finally clicked. Something was terribly wrong. The things Julian was saying… they were from three years ago. I grabbed his wrist, my voice catching in my throat. "Julian… do you have amnesia?" He paused for a second, then shrugged it off. "That's what they're all saying, that I scrambled my brain. It's bullshit. My head's a little fuzzy, but it's nothing important. You can fill me in on the details later." He wrapped his arms around me, tilting his head back to look at me with eyes full of adoration, as if the last three years of silence and separation had never happened. I pushed him away, struggling to keep my voice steady. "Julian, we broke up. I—" He cut me off, the warmth vanishing from his smile. "Ava, don't push it." A haughty curve touched his lips. "You think I'd believe that? You've been by my side for years. If you were going to leave, you would've done it a long time ago." He leaned in, his voice a low, confident whisper. "You can't live without me." Just then, the sound of a doorknob turning echoed from the hallway. I shoved Julian away with all my might. My daughter, Rosie, emerged, rubbing her sleepy eyes. In her tiny hand, she clutched her favorite stuffed rabbit. "Mommy?" She frowned, her small gaze landing on Julian. "Who is he?" 2 My breakup with Julian was anything but peaceful. I was adopted by the Keane family. They called me their child, but in reality, I was little more than a companion they’d hired for their son. From the day I walked into their home, everyone made one thing clear: I was there to accommodate Julian, to take care of Julian. I was three years older than him, so I naturally fell into the role of the protective big sister. Julian was spoiled rotten from birth and had a temper to match. In the beginning, he made my life a living hell. He’d put snakes, my deepest fear, in my bed. He’d gather his friends to mock me for being an orphan. He'd burst into my room in the dead of night, dragging me out of bed just to hiss in my face. "Don't you dare think you're my real sister, Ava," he’d snarl. "You're just a dog my family took in. You get that?" I knew. I knew I didn't have the right to fight back. In truth, I was grateful to Julian’s parents. They had rescued me from the orphanage. If it wasn't for them, the director, who secretly trafficked the pretty children under his care, would have sold me to God knows who. But a child's anger is a fleeting thing. Under my constant, patient care, Julian's sharp edges began to soften. He grew closer to me, defending me from others, seeking me out on sleepless nights. He even started calling me his sister. I thought that’s all I would ever be to him. Then, when I was nineteen, Julian started dating. He fell for Isabelle. Her family was on par with the Keanes, and like Julian, she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. She was a radiant, stunning girl, crowned the campus queen her freshman year, and she quickly caught Julian’s eye. They got together, a perfect match on paper. But they were both used to getting their own way, and their relationship was a constant storm of arguments. During one of their fights, Julian, wanting to spite Isabelle, kissed me right in front of her. In that single moment, everything between us changed. He and Isabelle made up soon after, but Julian never explained the kiss. We both silently agreed to never speak of it again, but we both knew. We could never go back to the simple, easy way we were before. Julian and Isabelle dated for three years, but their fiery tempers finally led to a bitter breakup. Heartbroken, Isabelle left the country. And Julian, drunk and lost, found his way into my bed. I can still feel the chaos of that night. The scent of alcohol on his breath as he murmured against my neck, his hands pinning mine above my head. "Don't say no," he pleaded, his actions forceful, but his voice was fragile, almost desperate. "Please, don't say no." I was trapped. After a long silence, I managed to ask, my voice trembling, "Julian, do you even know who I am?" His answer was a kiss. Much later, as I was drifting off to sleep, exhausted, I faintly heard him whisper into my ear. "You're Ava." ... And just like that, we were together. There was no confession, no ceremony, not even a single "I love you" exchanged between us. I continued to play the part of his sister, managing his life, but now our interactions were laced with a new, dangerous intimacy. We’d walk along the beach at sunset, cuddle on the couch watching movies late into the night, and hold each other close as thunderstorms raged outside. For a while, I was truly happy. I don't know when I fell in love with him, but I knew I did. So when Isabelle returned and sought out Julian, I swallowed my pride. When he ditched my birthday dinner to be with her, I endured it. I loved Julian, and I knew he was still just a boy in many ways. I was willing to give him the space to make mistakes and find his way back to me. Until I found out I was pregnant. I sent a picture of the positive test to Julian. He called back after what felt like an eternity. His voice was distorted over the phone, laced with annoyance. "Ava, I'm not ready for a kid." "I haven't had my fun yet. There's no way I can be a father. You need to get rid of it." Half an hour later, a friend of mine, an intern at the hospital, sent me a photo. It was Julian and Isabelle. He was holding her carefully, his touch as gentle as if she were the most precious treasure in the world. My friend sent a voice note: "Why is Julian at the OB-GYN with another girl? She's pregnant. Who is she?" In that moment, I understood. Julian didn't want to be a father to my child. He had never gotten over Isabelle. She was the girl who’d given him his first taste of love, the one he could never truly forget. Now that she was back, I, the placeholder, had to step aside. My baby and I were just trash to be discarded. I told Julian I wanted to break up. For some reason, he refused, dragging it out. Desperate, I asked an old classmate to help me stage a scene, pretending he was a new lover. I will never forget the look in Julian’s eyes that day. He stared at me as if he wanted to burn me to ashes with his gaze alone. "You and your little lover better stay the hell away from me," he'd said. "Or I can't guarantee he'll live to see another day." Then, with a final, contemptuous sneer, he’d delivered the killing blow. "You were always just a dog I kept around." "And remember this: I'm the one dumping you. Not the other way around." After that day, I never saw him again. He moved his business abroad and, from what I heard, got engaged to Isabelle. Both families were thrilled; they were a perfect match. The engagement party was so lavish it made the front page of the society pages. And now, here he was. A car crash had rewound his life by three years. The living room was suffocatingly quiet, the sound of late-night traffic muffled by the windows. The silence felt thick, heavy. I clutched my daughter tighter, and looking at Julian's shocked face, I repeated myself, my voice soft but firm. "Julian, we broke up three years ago." "I'm… married now. I have a child." 3 It took a moment for Julian to react. His mouth opened, then closed, a look of absurd disbelief on his face. He reached for me, his hand trembling. "No, that's impossible," he muttered, as if trying to convince himself more than me. "Ava, there's no way you'd marry someone else." "You love me." His gaze shifted to the child in my arms, and he forced a brittle smile. "I have amnesia, right? So... this is my daughter, isn't she?" His voice was desperate. "You kept the baby behind my back?" I took a step back. "Julian, stop this madness!" "She is not your child!" The light in Julian's eyes flickered and died, replaced by a gathering storm. "Not mine? Then whose is she?" He lunged forward and grabbed my wrist, his voice turning sharp and dangerous. "Ava, who the hell is the father?!" "That would be me." Just as I was about to panic, the door swung open. Ethan Hayes walked in and gently took my daughter from my arms. The night air was damp, and his black suit was misted with dew, yet he looked anything but disheveled. A powerful confidence radiated from him as he studied Julian with a look of detached amusement. "We have a guest? You should have told me," he said to me, completely ignoring Julian's darkening expression as he handed me a small box. "That bakery you like," he said, his voice low and intimate. "I got there late. Almost missed out on the last one." Julian's eyes raked over Ethan, his hands clenching into fists. "Ava, when did you get involved with him?" Before I could answer, Ethan let out a soft laugh, a sound devoid of warmth, laced instead with icy mockery. "When?" he mused. "Well, let's see. We got together three years ago. We had our daughter two years ago. We got married this year. Which 'when' are you asking about, Mr. Keane?" In the silent living room, the two tall men faced off. Fury blazed in Julian's eyes, while Ethan looked on as if observing a petulant child, exuding an air of effortless, victorious superiority. I sighed, stepping forward to take Ethan's arm. I turned back to Julian. "He's right." "Julian, it's been over for a long time. We both have our own lives now. You and Isabelle are getting married. I'm married and I have a child." "You're only confused because of the accident. We agreed… a long time ago…" I paused, searching for the right words. "We agreed not to bother each other anymore." "Bother?" Julian stumbled back a step, a bitter, almost comical expression twisting his features. "Ava, we lived together for more than a decade." "And now you call it bothering?" I looked down, my voice barely a whisper. "You've grown up, Julian. We were always meant to have our own lives." Ethan moved closer, his left arm holding our daughter while his right hand found mine, a silent declaration of ownership. The three of us stood together, and though we were only a few feet from Julian, it was as if an unbridgeable chasm had opened between us. After a long, tense silence, Julian laughed. A cold, harsh sound. He stared at me, his eyes like chips of ice. "Fine, Ava," he sneered. "You win." 4 Ethan didn't say anything after Julian left, but I could tell his petty streak was showing. Even when Rosie asked for a kiss, his was perfunctory and distracted. He was radiating a low-grade storm cloud of "I'm angry, you'd better explain yourself." I sighed and wrapped my arms around him from behind. "I had no idea he was coming," I murmured. "He just showed up, and he has amnesia. I made everything clear to him." "It won't happen again, okay?" Ethan ripped off his tie and threw it on the floor, sinking onto the sofa without a word. After a few minutes of stewing, he finally spoke, his voice tight. "The moment I heard he'd gotten on a plane back here after his accident, I knew something was wrong. I rushed over, but I was still too late to stop him from getting in." He looked genuinely furious, and for the first time since I'd known him, the man who only ever dealt in sarcasm let a curse slip. "Dammit. Why didn't the crash just kill him?" I almost laughed. Ethan always seemed so calm and composed, as if nothing in the world could faze him. But when it came to Julian, his composure evaporated. When Julian had first moved abroad, Ethan had been ready to throw him a farewell party just to get rid of him for good. Now, right after we'd finally gotten married, Julian was back to stir up trouble. Of course he was pissed. I spent a long time soothing him, swearing up and down that I wouldn't get entangled with Julian again. He eventually calmed down, but he made sure to take out his frustrations on me later that night after Rosie was asleep. The next morning, I dragged my aching body out of bed, silently cursing Ethan. For a man pushing thirty, he seemed to have more energy than ever. Wasn't there some rule about men going downhill after twenty-five? As if on cue, my phone rang. A number I didn't recognize. Thinking it was a delivery, I answered, but a familiar female voice cut me off. Even through the phone, Isabelle's condescension was palpable. "Ava, we need to meet." I frowned. "What about?" "I think we need to talk about Julian, don't you?" I rubbed my temples, annoyed. "I have nothing to do with Julian," I said bluntly. "I didn't cause his accident or his amnesia. Whatever issues you have, you can sort them out between yourselves. It has nothing to do with me." I hung up before she could reply. I’d never liked Isabelle. It wasn't just because Julian had chosen her over me; his feelings weren't her fault. It was her attitude—the way she always looked down on me, as if I were something dirty she’d found on the bottom of her shoe. She was the one who had interfered in my relationship with Julian, yet she always carried herself with the air of a wronged queen. I had finally escaped that past and built a new life. The last thing I wanted was to get dragged back into the drama with Julian and Isabelle. ...
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