Chapter 1

The first thing Ethan Miller knew was the smell of antiseptic, a clean, sharp scent that cut through the fog in his head. He blinked, and the ceiling above him was a stark, unforgiving white.

A machine beeped steadily to his left, a quiet rhythm in a silent room. He tried to sit up, but a dull ache spread through his body, pinning him to the thin mattress.

He looked down at his arm, at the IV needle taped to his skin. He didn't know how it got there. He didn't know where "here" was. He didn't know who he was. Panic began to prickle at the edges of his mind, a cold, rising tide.

The door swung open, and three people walked in. A man and a woman, both impeccably dressed in expensive, somber clothes, and a younger man who looked effortlessly confident in a tailored suit.

The woman, his adoptive mother, Mrs. Reed, sighed, her face a mask of weary frustration. "Oh, for God's sake, Ethan. Are you done with this charade? Another one of your pathetic stunts to get attention."

The man, his adoptive father, Mr. Reed, didn't even look at him. His eyes were fixed on the younger man. "Liam, are you alright? This must have been a shock for you. Having to deal with his drama again."

Liam Reed, his adoptive brother, stepped forward, his expression a perfect blend of concern and superiority. "I'm fine, Dad. I'm just worried about Ethan. He seems... confused."

Ethan stared at them, the names and faces meaning nothing to him. The words, however, landed like stones, painting a picture of a person he didn't recognize, a person who was a disappointment, a burden.

"Who... who are you?" Ethan asked, his voice raspy.

Mrs. Reed scoffed. "Now he's pretending to have amnesia. How original. You fall into a pool, and suddenly you're the star of a soap opera? Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused?"

The door opened again. A woman stood there, her presence commanding the room. She was beautiful, with sharp, intelligent eyes and a severe expression. Her gaze fell on Ethan, and it was cold, devoid of any warmth.

"Olivia," Liam said, his voice softening instantly.

"Is he done making a fool of himself? And me?" Olivia Reed, his wife, said, her voice cutting through the air. She walked to the foot of the bed, her arms crossed. "The press is already sniffing around. 'Tech CEO Olivia Reed's husband in another suicide attempt.' Is this the life you want for me, Ethan?"

He heard nurses whispering in the hallway.

"That's him, the artist who married Olivia Reed."

"Poor guy. He's always trying something. They say she's in love with his brother."

"You can see it. Look at how she looks at Liam."

The words floated into the room, each one a small, sharp jab. Humiliation washed over him, a feeling that seemed horribly familiar even if the memories were gone. He was a joke, a burden, a fool in a loveless marriage.

Later, they all left. The room was quiet again, except for the beeping of the machine. Ethan lay there, staring at the white ceiling. He didn't remember the pain they spoke of, the desperation, the love for a woman who despised him. He couldn't feel the history they layered on top of him.

This emptiness... it wasn't a void. It was a blank slate.

The amnesia wasn't a curse. It was a mercy.

It was a chance to escape a life he couldn't even remember, a life that sounded like a prison. He didn't have to be that pathetic man from their stories. He didn't have to carry that weight.

A sudden, clear thought cut through the confusion. He was going to get out. He was going to start over.

He fumbled for the phone on the bedside table. He scrolled through the contacts, his finger stopping on a single entry: "Lawyer." He didn't know why it was there, but it felt like a lifeline thrown by his former self.

He pressed the call button. A man answered on the second ring.

"Ethan Miller," Ethan said, his voice stronger now, filled with a newfound resolve. "We need to proceed."