Page 106 of One of Those Amnesia Stories

Except for the woman who didn’t leave.

Until now.

I reached into my jacket pocket, withdrew the folded article, and placed it on the table between us.

The headline was clear: The End of a Power Couple: Velaré Founder Cassian Sterling and PR Mogul Alessia Quinn Finalize Divorce. Below it was a photograph of them outside the courthouse.

Cassandra’s eyes flew to the paper. She snatched it up, her breath catching in a sharp gasp. “Is this real? Is the bitch finally out of the picture?”

“It’s real,” I confirmed, keeping my voice calm. “She’s gone.”

A brilliant, triumphant smile broke across her face. “I can’t believe it, Dad! You were right! He was only waiting for the right time. He left her.” She clutched the newsprint to her chest as if it were a love letter. “He got rid of her.” Her voice dropped to a reverent whisper, full of awe and possession. “For me.”

Watching the pure, unfiltered joy light up her face filled me with profound satisfaction. “Yes, my darling,” I said, my voice smooth as silk. “He did it all for you.”

She let out a low, triumphant laugh as she looked at the article again. “This smug bitch,” she spat. “Walking around as though she owned him, calling him her husband.” Her fingers twitched. Then she seized the edge of the page and tore Alessia’s picture cleanly from it, shredding the photograph into strips with a violent, satisfying sound.

“Everything was perfect until she showed up. She ruined it all.” A cruel smile touched her lips. “I can’t wait to see her face now. Broken. Pathetic.”

Then, her expression softened into something reverent. She gathered the remaining half of the photograph—the half bearing Cassian’s face—and clutched it against her heart.

When she looked up at me, tears of happiness glistened in her eyes.

“I won’t lie, Dad. For a moment, I thought I’d lost him.” Her fingers tightened around the photograph. “But you were right. He’s still mine. He always has been. I can never lose him.”

I stroked her hair. “He’ll always be yours, my dear.”

Long ago, I had made my daughter a promise: Cassian Sterling would one day be her husband.

It was time to make that promise a reality.

My daughter had waited long enough.

Chapter 18

Someone had been in my apartment.

I knew it before I knew anything else. The key bowl on the entry table had shifted, just slightly, sitting a few inches from where I was certain I’d left it. I stopped in the doorway and stared at it for ten seconds, replaying the morning in my head. Had I knocked it with my bag? Brushed against the table? Forgotten, somehow, that I’d moved it myself?

My hand hovered over the bowl before I nudged it back into place and stepped inside.

The open-plan living area was dim, the curtains still drawn against the morning light. My gaze went instinctively to the kitchen nook on the left. I moved to get some water, setting my bag on the counter. That’s when I noticed: the sink was empty. The dirty dishes from last night were gone. A low hum came from the dishwasher, already mid-cycle.

I turned slowly back toward the living room. This time, my gaze caught on the high-backed armchair facing the window, its back to me.

“I had a game going with the dishes,” I said, my voice flat. “You ruined my system.”

A familiar, annoyed grumble came from the chair. She stood up and walked around to face me, hands on her hips.

“I was trying to scare you! You ruined my thing.”

I tilted my head, a slow smile spreading across my face.

“Well, hello, Mother.” Then the smile dropped. “How did you get the keys this time?”

Suddenly, she became deeply fascinated by the pattern on the throw pillow, turning to examine it with exaggerated interest.

“Mother.”