Faking Amnesia For A New Life

I lost my memory. Or rather, I faked it.

Conrad Gallagher, the boyfriend I had been secretly dating for five years, effortlessly erased our entire relationship.

"You're only fit to be a casual hookup."

Then, he announced his engagement to a woman approved by his parents.

To save myself from utter humiliation, I faked amnesia, conveniently forgetting no one but Conrad.

But when it was time for me to get married, Conrad regretted it. He kidnapped me right out of my wedding and spirited me away: "Don't marry him, okay?"

Chapter 1

Aurora's POV

Inside the ballroom of the Omni Parker House, I ran into him again.

Conrad.

I drew in a sharp breath, the champagne flute trembling slightly in my grip.

It had been two months since the accident, two months since I had last seen his face, and two months since I had made the conscious decision to scrub him from my memory entirely.

Now, catching sight of him in the bustling crowd, he was impossible to ignore.

Impeccably dressed as always, his dark suit was tailored to perfection. His undeniable charm acted like a gravitational pull, drawing people toward him. My heart pounded, slamming violently against my ribs.

Conrad’s gaze landed on me. His confident stride faltered for a fraction of a second before he changed direction, heading straight for me. Every step he took was heavy and deliberate, like fate itself closing in.

"Aurora," he said.

I turned my head slowly, meeting his gaze with a blank, uncomprehending stare. "Excuse me, do you know me?"

His eyes flicked from my face, dropping to the neckline of my dress, then sweeping all the way down to my legs. That familiar possessiveness gave me goosebumps.

In the past, whenever he thought no one was watching—whenever he felt I was his exclusive plaything—he would always look at me like that.

Conrad glanced around, his eyes darting quickly over the curious faces nearby.

He had always been hyper-aware of his public image, always needing to maintain control. He noticed the subtle stares and caught the faint whispers drifting from the edges of the conversation.

Without a word, he shrugged off his expensive wool overcoat and draped it over my bare shoulders.

His hand gripped my arm tightly, pulling me into his personal space.

"Aurora, drop the act. You haven't contacted me for two months. Are you really that mad?" He leaned in, his lips practically brushing my ear. "Are we going to my condo or your hotel today? You choose."

I struggled to pull away from his grasp, but his hand held me in an iron grip, refusing to budge.

I finally looked up at him. "Sir, please maintain a polite distance. I don't like being touched without permission."

He narrowed his eyes, a dangerous glint flashing in their depths.

His charming veneer cracked, revealing a flash of irritation.

"Aurora Buchanan," he began, his tone laced with a distinct warning. He only ever used my full name when anger was