Chapter 1

Four years ago, my boyfriend was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's.

That day, with bloodshot eyes and tears streaming down his face, he pulled me into his arms, choking back sobs:

"Chloe, I want my memory to freeze forever at the moment I still remember you."

Then, on New Year's Eve, he threw himself into the stormy ocean.

I searched for him like a woman possessed, combing the freezing waters for two whole months, but I never found so much as a single strand of his hair.

Later, though I had never believed in god or fate, I went on a solitary pilgrimage through the blizzard, circling the frozen mountain trails eighty-one times, praying only that we might meet again in another life.

Eventually, my story caught the media's attention. I became a minor influencer, sharing memories of our past on social media.

Until one day, I posted an old photo of his profile.

The comment section exploded: "Girl, stop lying! Isn't that Chad Sterling, the youngest heir to the Sterling Empire? He's alive and well, and he's about to marry a trending young starlet!"

I stared at my phone screen, but I didn't cry. Instead, I burst out laughing.

Because I was getting married, too.

And the man I was going to marry was his uncle.

Hearing Chad's name again four years later didn't surprise me.

My followers had already told me he was alive.

Yet when he walked onto the film set with Sienna Cole clinging to his arm, the hobby knife in my hand still slipped, slicing right across my skin.

How pathetic.

Back then, he had sneered with pure disgust: "A manipulative snake like your stepsister? Looking at her takes years off my life!"

Now, he treated her like she was the center of his universe.

Meanwhile, I, the ex-girlfriend who had spent years mourning him, had become the only person he supposedly "forgot."

"Oops, Chloe! My hand slipped."

Sienna had just deliberately shattered the miniature model I spent seventy-two sleepless hours crafting.

We had only been on set for seven days, and this was already the eighth model she had smashed.

She tilted her head, giving me an innocent, mocking smile.

Unable to take it any longer, I lunged forward and grabbed her wrist. Before I could say a word,

Director Miller shot up from behind his monitor.

"Chloe! Let go of her!"

"Sienna is with our lead investor! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Before I could explain, a deep, icy male voice cut through the air behind me.

"What's going on here?"

My spine froze instantly. My breath caught in my throat.

It was Chad.

Four years had made him look much more mature.

Dressed in a bespoke designer suit, he reeked of effortless wealth from head to toe.

Sienna took the chance to pull away from me and threw herself into his arms, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

"Chad, it's all my fault. I accidentally broke Chloe's model!"

Chad naturally wrapped his arm around her waist—the exact way he used to hold me.

Now, to him, I was just an insignificant nobody.

"A piece of cheap trash like this is worth causing a scene?"

He sneered down at me, lifting his shoe and grinding the broken model into dust beneath his heel.

"Director Miller, I didn't pour eighty million into this production to watch Sienna get bullied."

"Of course, of course!" Miller wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and ordered me to apologize immediately.

Chad scoffed. "An apology? As if that's enough. Tell her to pack her bags and get out!"

I stood frozen in place, my throat tight.

This was the same man who once nearly ripped Sienna's tongue out just because she called me a bad name. Now, he was humiliating me just to protect her.

"Well..." Miller hesitated.

Tomorrow's hospital explosion scene required that miniature. In the entire industry, no one could replicate such intricate detail except me.

Sienna pretended to speak up for me. "Chad, don't be too harsh. Chloe is your ex, after all..."

"Ex?"

Chad raised an eyebrow, sizing me up with pure disgust.

"You think I'd ever settle for cheap garbage like her?"

"Oh, wait—are you the desperate stalker who made up rumors on Ins last year claiming to be my ex? Did you lose your mind over money?"

The surrounding crew burst into mocking laughter.

"Either remake it by tomorrow morning, or get the hell off my set!"

Working late into the night, my eyes burned with exhaustion. I stood up to step outside and catch my breath.

That was when Chad's friends' laughter drifted over from the VIP trailer next door.

"Man, that desperate girl really bought your amnesia story! The way she looked at you today—like a dog in heat waiting to lick your boots!"

"Seriously! You put on a little act four years ago, and she took out massive loans to pay for your 'treatments,' then jumped into the freezing ocean searching for you for two whole months! What a gullible idiot!"

"Hey, she probably thought she was being heroic!"

My breath hitched. The plastic frame in my hands snapped in two.

Chad sounded slightly drunk. "Heroic, my ass! Her eighty-one laps around that stupid mountain almost cursed me to death."

"If Sienna hadn't come up with the fake terminal illness and staged suicide, how else could I have ditched that clingy leech so fast and enjoyed four years of freedom before getting tied down?"

One of his buddies chimed in with a sleazy grin: "So you're completely done with Chloe, right? If you don't want her, pass her to me! A naive, attention-starved beauty like that is so easy to manipulate..."

Chad threw a glass across the room. "Back the fuck off! I'm not done playing with her yet!"

"She waited four years for me. Once I'm married, all it'll take is a snap of my fingers, and she'll come crawling right back with her tail wagging. She can stay on the side and keep Sienna company."

Raucous laughter echoed through the night.

It felt like a bed of nails rolling over my heart, sending bone-chilling pain through my veins.

So the amnesia was fake.

And his tragic suicide wasn't because he loved me too much to let me watch him fade.

Chad, why did you even bother?

Did you really think I was the kind of woman who couldn't let go?

The years of crushing guilt and grief vanished in an instant, replaced by cold, mocking ridicule.

I pulled out my phone and texted my fiancé:

"I've made up my mind. As soon as this shoot wraps, let's get married."