Chapter 1

The first thing I felt was a dull ache at the back of my head, a rhythmic throb that matched the steady beep of a machine somewhere to my right. I opened my eyes to a world of blinding white, the ceiling, the walls, the thin blanket covering me, all of it sterile and impersonal. I didn't know where I was. I didn't even know who I was.

A fog hung heavy in my mind, and when I tried to grasp a thought, a name, a memory, it slipped away like smoke. Panic started to build in my chest, a cold, tight feeling. I tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness pushed me back down onto the stiff pillow.

A nurse walked in, her shoes squeaking softly on the polished floor. She smiled a practiced, professional smile.

"Mr. Miller, you' re awake. That' s good. How are you feeling?"

Miller. Was that my name? It sounded foreign.

"Where am I?" I asked, my voice raspy and unfamiliar.

"You' re at St. Jude' s Hospital. You had a bad fall. You' ve been unconscious for two days," she explained, checking the IV drip connected to my arm. "Your family is here. They' ve been very worried."

The word "family" meant nothing to me. It was just a word, a hollow shape in my empty mind. Before I could ask more, the door swung open again.

A man and a woman who looked to be in their late fifties walked in, their faces etched with impatience rather than concern. They were followed by a younger man, handsome and dressed in an expensive suit, who moved with an easy confidence.

"See? He' s fine," the older man, Mr. Reed, said, his voice dripping with annoyance. "Wasting all this time and money. I told you it was just another one of his stunts."

The woman, Mrs. Reed, sighed dramatically, smoothing down her perfectly styled hair. "Ethan, must you always seek attention in the most troublesome ways? Liam has a major product launch next week, and we have to deal with this."

Liam, the younger man, stepped forward, a concerned look on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Ethan, brother, you really scared us. But Dad' s right, your timing is terrible."

They spoke as if I wasn't there, or as if I were a piece of furniture. Their words were sharp, and though I didn't understand the history behind them, I felt the sting of their disapproval. Brother? Why did they call him Liam, but call me Ethan, if we were brothers?

My head hurt, and their voices were making it worse. I just looked at them, trying to find a flicker of recognition, a hint of affection. There was none. They looked at me with a mixture of frustration and disdain.

The door opened a third time, and a woman of stunning beauty and cold composure entered. She was dressed in a sharp business suit, her expression unreadable. Her eyes met mine for a fraction of a second, and in them, I saw a deep, unyielding dislike. It was so potent it felt like a physical blow.

"Olivia," Liam said, his voice softening instantly. He went to her side, placing a hand on her arm. "You came."

"Is he conscious?" she asked, her gaze fixed on Liam, completely ignoring me.

"He is," Mrs. Reed answered for her. "Just lying there, like always. Honestly, Olivia, I don't know how you put up with him."

Olivia' s lips thinned into a hard line. "It' s been difficult." She finally looked at me, her eyes sweeping over my hospital gown with contempt. "The press is already sniffing around. They' re asking if the CEO of Reed Tech' s husband tried to kill himself again. It' s humiliating."

Husband. The word landed in the silent room with a thud. I was married to this woman who clearly hated me. Her heart, her attention, it was all for Liam. The way they looked at each other, the easy familiarity between them, told a story I couldn't remember but could suddenly, instinctively, understand.

The Reeds continued their conversation, their voices a low murmur of complaints and plans that didn't involve me. Whispers from the hallway drifted in. "That' s him, the artist who married Olivia Reed." "I heard it was a shotgun wedding." "He' s always trying to get attention, but she' s in love with his brother."

Each word was a piece of a puzzle, forming a picture of a miserable, pathetic life. My life. A life of begging for love from people who had none to give me. A life spent in the shadow of a favored brother. A life chained to a woman who despised me.

And I couldn't remember any of it.

A strange sense of calm washed over me, pushing aside the panic and the pain. They looked at me and saw a failure, a burden. They saw years of desperate behavior, of faked illnesses and stunts for attention. But I didn't see that. I saw a blank page.

The amnesia... it wasn' t a curse. It was a mercy. It was a chance to escape a prison I didn' t even remember being in. They thought I was the same weak, desperate Ethan. They were wrong. I wasn't him anymore. I was no one. And I could become anyone.

I made a decision, right there in that cold, white room, surrounded by people who wished I didn't exist. I would grant them their wish.

As they finally left, their duty done, their annoyance clear, I reached for the phone on the bedside table. My fingers felt clumsy, but my mind was sharp and clear for the first time.

I didn't call a friend. I didn't call for comfort.

I called a lawyer.

"I need to file for a divorce," I said, my voice steady. "And I want to discuss severing ties with my adoptive family."

A new chapter was about to begin. The old one was a book I never had to read again.