Page 186 of One of Those Amnesia Stories

Something flickered across his face, so brief I might have missed it if I hadn’t been watching him so carefully.

“In the end… I won.”

He smiled. But it didn’t reach his eyes. It didn’t look like victory.

“I spent my whole life running after a name. And when I finally got it…” He shook his head slowly. “It didn’t feel good. It felt tainted. Because the voices were still there. All those kids, still inside my head, telling me I didn’t belong here. That I wasn’t supposed to be here. That I didn’t deserve any of it.”

His voice dropped to something almost confessional.

“And then new voices joined them. Voices telling me I was a fraud. That I wasn’t a real Hartley. That I hadn’t earned the legacy—I’d just bought it.” He looked down at his hands. “No matter what I did, those voices wouldn’t go away. Jameson didn’t give me the name. I worked for it, I earned it in every way that mattered. But it still felt like I was wearing someone else’s clothes.”

He looked up, and his eyes found Cassian’s.

“Most people didn’t notice. Didn’t care. Except for one.”

Cassian froze beside me. His fingers tightened around the chair handle until his knuckles blanched, bracing himself.

Michael’s voice softened into a murmur.

“Charles.”

Neither of us had expected him to bring up Cassian’s father.

His gaze was fixed on Cassian now, intent and burning.

“He talked to me. He always did.” Michael’s voice had dropped, becoming almost reverent. “Even when I was Bay—” He stopped himself, the name catching in his throat. “Even when I wasn’t a Hartley yet. He was old money. Generations of it. He could have looked down on me, dismissed me like everyone else.” A pause. “But he didn’t. He became my friend. And he stayed my friend.”

He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the desk, his eyes locked on Cassian.

“When he saw me struggling, when he saw what that name was doing to me, how it was eating me alive, he made me a promise.”

He drew a breath.

“He said that if a name was twisting me up so badly, then he’d give me his. Through our children. He promised that when we had children, they’d marry. And then my child would carry the Sterling name. A real legacy name. One that no one could take away. Earned through family, not purchased through money.”

I shifted in my seat, moving just enough that my arm rested against Cassian’s hand on the chair. His grip loosened slightly. A small thing, but I felt it.

Michael kept going, the words pouring out now, unstoppable.

“Years passed. My wife was pregnant, and Charles and Camilla still didn’t have children. I started to worry. What if he backed out? What if the promise meant nothing?” His jaw tightened. He resumed pacing, slower, his gaze far beyond the walls of the office.

“But then, when Liam was only a few months old, Cassian appeared out of nowhere.”

He looked at Cassian.

“I knew. I knew Camilla had never been pregnant. But there you were.”

Cassian remained utterly still.

“One night, Charles got drunk and told me everything. Everything about you.” Michael swallowed. “And I was relieved. He wasn’t backing out. He was keeping his word.” He smiled fondly. “He was my friend. My real friend.”

“Two years later, my Cassandra was born. Perfect. Beautiful. Destined for greatness. My daughter would have what I never could. The name, given freely, with intention. She would belong in a way I never did.” His voice softened, almost tender. “All was right in the world.”

The tenderness vanished. His face twisted, hatred flooding back in.

“But then Charles left. Ran away like a coward. Abandoned everything—his family, his name, his promises.” He shook his head, disgusted. “But it was fine. You were still here, Cassian. The promise could still be kept. You just had to see Cassandra. I raised her to be perfect for you. Taught her everything she needed to know. She spent her entire life learning how to be the wife Cassian Sterling deserved.”

His eyes snapped to me, and the hatred in them was so pure it was almost impressive.