Falling for the wrong memoryUpdated at Aug 22, 2025, 05:57
Two years ago, I fell down a flight of stairs. Or I was pushed down, depending on who is telling the story. I woke up with a new name, scribbled on a paper at the side of my bed, no memory of what happened before, and a growing fear that I was forgetting something important.
Now, I know what it is.
The man standing in front of me isn’t just the billionaire I signed a secret surrogacy agreement with. He’s the man I used to love. The man I used to be pregnant for. The man I was supposed to marry, before someone came along, stealing my identity, my place, like I never existed.”
“I should hate you,” he mutters. “But I can’t stop thinking about how these lips used to say my name.”
“And I can’t forget how easily you let her replace me,” I whisper, overwhelmed as the memory comes flooding back.
I am carrying his child again, but this time, there are rules.
And the woman who once tried to kill me just found out that I am still alive, pregnant with his child. But someone else, hiding in the shadows, wants me dead before I remember everything.
They’ve already killed for less. If I don’t play it smart, they’ll make sure I disappear for good this time around.