
My husband is one of the worldâs leading hypnotists. But when the woman he could never forget killed someone in a car accident, he hypnotized me to clear her name. âClara is fragile,â he whispered, his voice a soothing poison. âSheâs terrified of prison. Just forget this memory and take her place. When you get out, Iâll make it up to you.â Our five-year-old son nodded along. âBesides, youâre just a useless housekeeper. When you go to jail, Aunt Clara can finally be my real mom!â A serene smile touched my lips. I gave them their wish. I forgot them completely. But now that Iâm free of them, my memory wiped clean, they stand at my door every day, begging me to just look at them one more time. 1 After serving eleven months, I walked out of the prison gates. My husband, Adrian, was waiting for me with our son. âLetâs go home. Weâre here to pick you up.â He patted the little boyâs shoulder. âLeo, go help your mother with her things.â âNo way!â Five-year-old Leo ducked behind his father, sticking his tongue out at me. âSheâs a convict, not my mom! My mom is Aunt Clara.â He tugged on Adrianâs sleeve. âDad, isnât it Aunt Claraâs birthday today? Letâs go celebrate with her. I donât want to see some jailbird.â Adrianâs face paled. He shot me a panicked look. âEvelyn, heâs just a child. He doesnât know what heâs saying. Donât take it to heart.â I shook my head. âI wonât. Heâs just a boy with a father who never taught him any manners.â âWhat?â Adrian froze, his eyes snapping to mine. âEvelyn, how can you say that? This is Leo.â Leo burst into tears. âI donât want a convict for a mom! I want Aunt Clara! Dad, letâs go! Send her away! We donât want her home!â He wailed, watching me through his tears. When he saw my expression was nothing more than a mild frown, he cried even louder. Adrian was flustered. âHeâs crying. You should comfort him. You used to dote on him more than anything.â He was right. The person I supposedly doted on was calling me a convict and rejecting me as his mother. It was a good thing I couldn’t remember them. How agonizing would it be to be stabbed in the heart by the people you love most? âI donât remember you,â I said. âAdrian, letâs get a divorce.â It was the only logical path. We go our separate ways, and everyone is better off. Adrian went rigid. A stiff, forced smile stretched his lips. âDonât be ridiculous. Weâre not getting a divorce. Youâre just suffering from temporary amnesia due to the trauma. Youâll remember soon.â He leaned closer, his voice confident. âWe are the people you love most in this world. Once you remember, you wonât be able to leave us. Letâs go home. You need to rest.â He brought me to a three-story villa. I scanned the property, but it stirred no memories. If it werenât for the fact that the house was filled with things I recognized as my own personal habits and preferences, I would have doubted Iâd ever lived there at all. So, I really had lost my memory. No wonder I couldnât recall the details of the car accident. I explored the villa, trying to jog something loose. As I pushed open the door to a cluttered attic, a figure who had been sneakily following me lunged forward, shoving me inside. I crashed into a pile of junk, and boxes and old furniture came tumbling down on top of me. An old chair leg struck my forehead, and a sharp, hot pain made me break out in a cold sweat. Clutching my head, I looked back at the culprit standing in the doorway. âYou really are a spoiled little brat. Is your father dead? Is that why you turned out like this?â Leoâs face, which had been pale with shock, twisted into a look of disgust when he heard me insult his father. âItâs your own fault for coming back today. Itâs Aunt Claraâs birthday. Dad and I are celebrating with her. Youâre not going to ruin it!â With that, he stepped back and slammed the door shut. I heard the distinct sound of a lock clicking into place. A sense of dread washed over me. I scrambled to my feet and banged on the door, telling him to open it, but Leo just giggled and ran off. âYouâre a bad woman! You can just stay in there forever!â 2 I kicked the door in frustration as the attic was plunged into darkness. Almost immediately, a wave of discomfort washed over me. The enclosed space felt like drowning, stealing the air from my lungs. I slid down the door, slumping to the floor as the world spun around me. A phantom hand seemed to be squeezing my throat. âOpen the doorâŚâ I rasped, weakly pounding on the wood. The suffocating panic was so overwhelming that I could no longer feel the throbbing pain in my forehead. My eyes fluttered shut, and I fell into unconsciousness. When I woke up, I was in a hospital. My head was bandaged. A thin, lanky boy was standing over me. âYouâre awake. Do you want some water?â His eyes were clear and bright as he leaned down. The clothes he wore were faded from countless washings. When he noticed me staring, he grew visibly flustered. A small smile touched my lips. âDid you save me? Thank you.â The boy shook his head quickly, stammering, âN-No need. I was just delivering a package and heard a noise from the attic, so I called the police.â He pointed towards the door, where two police officers were standing. âWell,â I said, turning back to him, âeither way, youâre the one who found me. Thank you for saving my life.â The boyâs face turned bright red. He waved his hands dismissively and hurried out to get the officers. They explained the situation, I expressed my gratitude, and they left. I learned that the boy who saved me was eight years old. His name was Sam Lee. His parents had passed away two years ago, and he was supposed to go to an orphanage, but he had run away. He survived by running errands and delivering packages for people in the neighborhood for a few dollars. I was speechless. After a moment, I looked at him and asked, âSam, would you like to come home with me?â He looked up, his eyes wide and hopeful. âCan I?â âOf course.â He nodded frantically. âYes, I want to. I really do.â âGood. Weâll go home as soon as Iâm done here.â After my IV drip was finished, I took Sam back to the apartment my parents had left me. It was a cozy three-bedroom, not huge, but warm. Sam was a whirlwind of help, carrying boxes and cleaning rooms without a single complaintâa world away from a certain brat I knew. A wave of contentment washed over me. This was the kind of son I should have had. After we finished unpacking, I went to the kitchen and made a pot of braised pork rib noodles. The rich aroma filled the small apartment, and Samâs eyes lit up. âIt smells amazing.â He took a bowl and filled it to the brim with pork ribs, placing it in front of me. âYouâre hurt. You need to eat lots of meat to get better.â Then he sat down and served himself a small portion of plain noodles, eating them quietly. I looked at the stark contrast between our bowls and couldnât help but ruffle his hair. âI need to recover, but so do you. Youâre a growing boy. You need meat even more than I do.â I spooned a generous helping of ribs into his bowl. Sam let me fuss over him, his face flushing a happy pink as he nodded. âOkay. Thanks, Mom.â A week passed. I completed the adoption paperwork for Sam and enrolled him in a local school. He was officially Sam Evans nowâcoincidentally, the same last name as his birth mother. I figured it was fate. That weekend, I planned to take him shopping for new clothes. But early that morning, my phone began to ring, shrill and insistent. Adrianâs cursed name flashed across the screen. 3 I hung up without a second thought. He called back twice more, and I rejected them both. A moment later, two text messages came through. It was Adrian. âWhere are you?â âThe housekeeper said you havenât been home all week. Where did you go?â Where I went was none of his damn business. I promptly blocked his number. It took him an entire week to notice I was gone. If Sam hadnât found me, I would have been dead in that attic. I blocked every possible way he could contact me, then took Sam to the mall. We both picked out several new outfits. As we were about to leave, Samâs gaze fell on a display of matching parent-child outfits in the window. âWant to try them on?â I asked, a smile tugging at my lips. He nodded shyly. âAlright, letâs go try on our matching outfits.â I changed quickly and waited for Sam outside the dressing room. And just my luck, thatâs when I ran into Adrian and his entourage. He saw me and froze. âEvelyn? What are you doing here?â I ignored him, my gaze sliding away indifferently. Adrianâs expression faltered, a hint of guilt in his eyes. âI know about what Leo did, locking you in the attic. Iâve already punished him. Iâm making him apologize.â He motioned for Leo, who shuffled forward and mumbled a half-hearted, âSorry.â I laughed softly. âLocked me in an attic for what could have been a week, and a simple âsorryâ is supposed to fix it? Why not wait until Iâm dead and burn some paper offerings as an apology instead?â Adrianâs face stiffened. He clearly hadn’t expected me to be so confrontational. Leoâs face was pale as he stared at the floor. Clara, the woman standing beside them, stepped forward as if she couldn’t bear to watch. She took my hand, her voice soft and persuasive. âSweetie, Leo didnât do it on purpose. Why make things so hard on a child? Blame me. After my birthday, I begged them to take a week-long trip with me. Thatâs why we didn’t realize you were gone.â She smiled sweetly. âHow about this? You just got out of prison. Weâll throw you a welcome home party. Itâll be our apology and a way to wash away all the bad luck. What do you think?â Adrianâs face lit up. âThatâs a great idea, Clara. Very thoughtful.â Neither of them noticed how the surrounding shoppers and store clerks took a subtle step back, their eyes now filled with a mixture of fear and disgust as they looked at me. I sneered. So, they locked me in an attic and ran off to play with the other woman? I yanked my hand away from Claraâs, disgustedly brushing off my new clothes. âWhat could possibly be more unlucky than running into you? My husband and son are tangled up with you. If you like them so much, tell him to divorce me. Iâll gift-wrap them both and send them over to you.â Claraâs face turned ashen. She never imagined I would be so blunt in public. The crowdâs scornful gaze immediately shifted from me to her. âOh, sheâs the other woman. So shameless, hooking up with someone elseâs husband and son.â âLook at them. I honestly thought they were the family.â âThe manâs no good either. Parading his mistress in front of his wife. How pathetic.â âSo trashy. If I were the wife, Iâd be furious.â Listening to the whispers, Adrianâs expression turned ugly. âWhat nonsense are you spouting? Thereâs nothing going on between Clara and me! Go home and reflect on your behavior, now!â Claraâs eyes welled with tears as she explained weakly, âSweetie, youâve misunderstood. Iâm not trying to take Adrian and Leo from you. I just⌠I canât bear to see them so lonely.â âBullshit! You shameless homewrecker!â someone from the crowd yelled, spitting in her direction. 4 âThe husband yells at his wife to protect his mistress, and the mistress makes pathetic excuses. Are you two even human?â âScumbags like you deserve each other. Get lost before you blind us all!â Assailed by the crowd, Adrian and Clara looked increasingly cornered. Clara looked like she was about to faint. Leo, his face red with anger, rushed forward. âDonât you bully Aunt Clara! Apologize to her!â He lunged at me. But before he could touch me, another small body slammed into him, knocking him aside. âMom, are you okay?â Sam stood in front of me like a protective lion cub, glaring at the three of them. I shook my head, stroking his hair. âIâm fine, sweetie. Don’t worry.â âMom?â Leo scrambled up from the floor, his face a mask of disbelief. When his eyes landed on our matching outfits, his expression morphed into one of shock and heartbreak. Suddenly, he launched himself at Sam, scratching and hitting him. âWhoâs your mom? Sheâs my mom! Stop calling her that!â he shrieked. âYouâre not allowed to wear matching clothes with her! Go away! Go away!â He tore frantically at Samâs new shirt. Sam, who had been about to fight back, froze when he heard Leoâs words, letting the blows rain down on him. That silly boy. I strode over and pulled Leo off him. âYour mother is over there. Donât get confused.â I held Sam close and glared at Adrian. âControl your little demon. If he causes any more trouble, Iâm calling the police.â Adrianâs jaw was tight. âEvelyn, heâs your son!â Sam immediately wrapped his arms around my waist and shot them a defiant look. âIâm Momâs son.â Leo looked like he was about to attack again, but Adrian held him back, shaking his head at me in disappointment. âEvelyn, youâre being completely unreasonable. When you get your memory back, youâre going to regret this.â âThatâs right, sweetie,â Clara chimed in, comforting the crying Leo. âEven if youâre jealous that Adrian and Leo are nice to me, you shouldnât just pick up some stray off the street and call him your son. Think of how much that hurts Leo!â I looked at her coldly. âWhereâs your father?â âWhat?â She was taken aback. âI asked where your father is,â I repeated patiently. âIâd like to find him, slap him across the face, and ask him how he raised a daughter with no class, throwing around words like âstray.ââ âYou! How dare you say I have no class?â Clara sputtered, her face crimson. âIâm talking about you, Miss Other Woman.â A smirk played on my lips as I took Samâs hand and started to walk away. I called back to the sales clerk, âThis man is paying for our clothes. His son ripped my sonâs shirt, so he owes us a new one. My outfit is for emotional damages.â Behind me, I could hear Leoâs heartbroken sobs. âYou donât remember me? Well, I donât like you anymore! I never want to see you again! Waaaaah!â I didnât even bother to turn around. Back home, Sam apologized guiltily. âMom, Iâm sorry. I made my⌠I made that boy sad. Maybe you should go check on him?â âWhat does that have to do with you?â I said, exasperated. âHe started it. Whatâs wrong with me protecting my own son? Besides, heâs the one who didnât want me. Heâs not lacking for attention. You, on the other hand⌠does that long scratch on your neck not hurt?â I pulled him over to treat the wound. The tears he had been holding back all day finally fell. That night, I got a call from an unknown number. It was Adrian, using the housekeeperâs phone. âEvelyn,â he said, his voice demanding, âLeo is sick.â âOh.â ââOhâ? Whatâs that supposed to mean? Arenât you worried? Arenât you coming to see him?â âIâm not a doctor. Is he going to magically get better if I look at him? Is there anything else? If not, Iâm hanging up.â I disconnected before he could reply, catching the sound of a childâs crying just before the line went dead. But what did that have to do with me? Another week went by.
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