I Saw His Faithless Tomorrow

I had a secret, one I had carried since childhood: whenever skin touched skin, whenever my hand brushed against someone else’s, I caught a glimpse of our future together. When I was seven, I reached for my mother’s hand. What I saw wasn’t a bedtime story or a graduation ceremony. I saw the gray steps of the county courthouse on a rainy Tuesday, my mother and father walking in opposite directions without looking back, leaving me behind like an abandoned umbrella. A month later, their divorce was finalized. I was packed off to my grandmother’s house by the coast, and neither of them ever came back for me. In college, a boy with kind eyes cornered me after class, stammering out a confession of love. I touched his sleeve, letting my fingers graze his wrist. In a split second, my mind filled with the sight of a dim hotel hallway and him wrapped around another girl. Two weeks later, his infidelity exploded across campus gossip boards. That gift was my shield. It saved me from countless traps and guarded me against hollow promises, but it also hollowed me out from the inside. I stopped believing in unconditional love. I stopped believing in forever. Until Sean came into my life. The day we met, my hand accidentally caught his as we reached for the same files in a crowded conference room. Before I could pull away, the vision hit me like a rush of warm air. It was a lazy, golden afternoon. Sunlight poured through sheer linen curtains, dust motes dancing in the haze. Sean was on one knee, pressing his lips against the back of my hand, tears shining in his eyes as he begged me to spend the rest of my life with him. There was no deceit. No bitter betrayal. Just an overwhelming, breathtaking warmth. For three years, that vision only blossomed. Every time our fingers intertwined, I saw fragments of an even sweeter tomorrow: cooking dinner in a sun-drenched kitchen, him pulling a heavy coat over my shoulders in the dead of winter, us growing old together. I let down my walls. I convinced myself that Sean was the one true exception to the universe’s cruelty. Until the elevator plunged. It happened in the corporate tower on an ordinary Tuesday evening. The cables snapped with a sickening groan, the car dropping several floors before the emergency brakes caught with a violent shudder. I was standing right next to him. His secretary, Megan, was three feet farther away, near the emergency panel. Yet when the metal cabin groaned and the lights flickered out, his instinct wasn’t to reach for me. He lunged across the car, wrapping his arms around Megan. When the car lurched a second time, the doors jammed halfway open between floors. I was thrown to the floor, my knee twisting with a sharp crack, but Sean didn't even look down. Without a single second of hesitation, he scooped Megan into his arms and forced his way out through the gap. "Sean..." Agony shot up my leg. I reached out in desperation, my trembling fingertips skimming the edge of his sleeve, just catching the rough skin of his thumb. In that fraction of a second, the vision forced its way into my mind. The future I had held onto for three years fractured. The image shifted. It was Sean and Megan standing before a white altar, their arms wrapped around each other in a fierce, breathless kiss. Then the scene cut violently: Sean staring down at me with cold, curdled disgust, shoving me to the floor, his voice dripping with venom: "Who could ever love a pathetic creature like you?" My hand dropped. For the first time in my life, the future had rewritten itself. … By the time the fire department pried open the doors, I had been trapped in the dark for over two hours. The air had thinned to an icy chill, and my consciousness had begun to slip away. It was a neighbor on the fifth floor who had heard my faint cries and called 911. As they strapped me onto the gurney, a bitter, fragile smile touched my lips. I closed my eyes, but the new future burned against the back of my eyelids. Sean kissing Megan. Sean discarding me like trash. I wanted desperately to believe it was an illusion, a hallucination born of terror, but my gift had never once lied to me. At the hospital, the nurses drew three vials of blood. The room spun. Lean and unsteady, I gripped the corridor wall for support, limping toward the recovery ward, only to pause outside an ajar door. Inside, Sean was sitting on the edge of a bed, coaxing Megan to drink a cup of liquid medication. Her cheeks were flushed pink, her lower lip tucked out in a practiced pout. "Sean... it’s so bitter." Sean let out a soft, helpless chuckle. With familiar ease, he reached into his breast pocket, unwrapped a small strawberry hard candy, and held it to her lips. "Take the medicine first, then you get the sweet." She obeyed, swallowing the dose before burying her face against his chest, murmuring how bad it tasted. I stood in the doorway, frozen. Just last month, I had sprained my ankle slipping on the porch steps. Sean had looked so terrified, his face pale as he carried me all the way to the car, running two red lights to get to the ER. When the doctor told him it was only a minor strain, he had let out a breath that sounded like a sob, kneeling to tie my sneaker with hands that were still trembling. Back then, I had looked at him and thought: "How did I get so lucky to be loved like this?" Now, that entire reservoir of tenderness had been neatly poured into someone else. My heart turned to stone, inch by slow inch. Then Sean looked up. His eyes locked onto mine, and the softness vanished, replaced by an instant flicker of shock. He whispered something to Megan, stood up, and pulled the door shut behind him. "Beth," he said, stepping into the hall, slipping back into his composed, measured tone. "Are you alright?" I stared at him quietly. I didn't scream, and I didn't demand answers. My silence unnerved him. His jaw tightened. "I... I thought you were right behind me when I got out." He paused, lowering his voice as if offering a reasonable defense. "Megan had a severe hypoglycemic episode. She fainted on the spot. I panicked—I had to get her out before she went into shock..." A dry laugh caught in my throat. He had rushed to save her, and he hadn't glanced back once. "Beth..." Sean reached out, his hand hovering toward my arm. I leaned back, avoiding his touch. My eyes dropped to his suit jacket; the pocket was bulging, the shiny silver wrapper of a strawberry candy peeking past the hem. Sean noticed my gaze and instinctively shifted, shielding the pocket from view. I didn't say a word. I turned on my heel and limped back toward my room. Once the door clicked shut, I pulled out my phone and dialed my grandmother. "Nana," I whispered, the lump in my throat finally breaking. "I miss you. I want to come home." Before she could answer, Sean shoved the door open. "Stop acting like a child, Beth. Just listen to me, will you?" He snatched the phone from my hand, ending the call with a curt swipe, and forced me down onto the edge of the mattress. "Megan is my executive assistant. She was on company time with me. It was my responsibility to keep her safe." He paused, his tone hardening with a faint trace of irritation he couldn't quite mask. "She's sensitive, and she's fragile. If she sees you making a scene like this, she’s going to blame herself..." I pulled the coarse hospital blanket over my head, turning my back to him. "Bethany." He used my full name, a sharp edge cutting through his voice. I curled my fingers into fists beneath the sheets. After a heavy, suffocating silence, he let out a harsh sigh, yanked open the door, and walked out. The slam echoed through the sterile room, rattling against my ribs. The next morning, I discharged myself. As I stepped through the main entrance into the gray morning mist, Sean’s black sedan pulled up from the underground garage. Megan was sitting in the passenger seat. Our eyes met through the tinted glass. For a fleeting second, guilt flickered across his face. But Megan acted as if nothing had happened, rolling down her window and leaning out with a cheerful wave. "Beth! You’re discharged too? Do you want a ride?" Without waiting for my reply, she turned and tugged gently on Sean’s sleeve. "Sean, can we please drop Beth off first?" Sean didn't brush her hand away. He looked at me through the windshield, his expression unreadable, waiting for me to yield, waiting for me to step forward and accept his charity. A bitter chuckle escaped me. I ignored them completely and headed straight for the taxi stand. "Bethany, get in the car!" Sean's voice chased after me. The autumn wind bit through my thin cardigan, sending throbbing spikes of pain through my injured leg, but I didn't slow down. Just as I reached for the taxi door, Megan hurried over and grabbed my wrist. "Come on, Beth! Don't be like this—" The moment her bare fingers clasped around my skin, a violent rush of imagery slammed into my skull. In the first flash, she was standing beside Sean in a grand ballroom, glowing as guests toasted their engagement. In the next, she was standing on the porch of our home, dragging a suitcase behind her. Her makeup was ruined, tears cutting black tracks down her cheeks as she screamed at him: "I gave you three whole years! Why can’t you ever let go of Beth?!" I recoiled violently, yanking my arm back. The force sent Megan stumbling backward onto the pavement. Sean was out of the car in an instant, catching her before she hit the ground. "Beth, what the hell is wrong with you?!" he barked. I looked at the two of them—his protective fury, her wide-eyed innocence—and remembered the miserable ending awaiting them both. It was almost laughable. Sean helped Megan back into the passenger seat, then glared at me. "Get in the back. I’m driving you home." The car was suffocatingly quiet. Within ten minutes, Megan had drifted off to sleep, leaning her head against Sean's shoulder. I sat in the back, staring out the window at the blurred city streets, trembling slightly from the draft. Sean caught my reflection in the rearview mirror. He reached into the compartment, pulled out a fleece travel blanket, and offered it behind him. "You just left the hospital. Put this on." I didn't move. Megan stirred, waking instantly. Seeing the blanket in his hand, she beamed, snatched it from him, and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Thank you, Sean! You're so sweet." Sean’s hand hovered in the air for a second, stiffening. But he said nothing. ... Half an hour later, the car came to a halt outside our suburban home. Sean muttered that he had an emergency meeting at the office, told me he would be back late, and drove off with Megan still in the passenger seat. The cold wind whipped down my collar. Shivering, I hurried up the steps and pressed my thumb against the smart lock. "Access Denied." A harsh red light blinked. I froze, wiping the scanner, and tried again. Red light. Red light. My head pounded with a sharp, throbbing ache. Shivering in the cold, I pulled out my phone and called Sean. The line connected on the second ring, but it wasn't Sean's voice. "Beth? Is something wrong?" Megan’s tone was light, deceptively innocent. My knuckles whitened against the glass screen. "Where is Sean? Why won't the door open?" "Oh!" She gasped softly, as if just remembering. "When you went out of town last week, Sean let me stay at the house for a couple of nights while my apartment was being fumigated. He updated the biometric locks and registered my prints instead. I’m so sorry, Beth... you might have to wait on the porch until we get back from the meeting." The line went dead. I stared at the black screen, numb. Last week, I had driven four hours into the mountains, spending three days fasting and praying at an old stone chapel to get a hand-carved cedar protection charm blessed by the priest. I had wanted to give it to Sean for our anniversary. And while I was kneeling on cold stone floors thinking of him, he had brought another woman into our home and overwritten my existence with the press of a finger. I stood there for a long time. Then I reached into my bag, pulled out the cedar charm, and dropped it into the trash can by the curb. Before I could figure out where to go, a new subdivision security guard marched up the driveway, swinging a flashlight. "Hey! What are you doing lurking around here?" "I live here," I said, stepping back. "I'm just trying to get inside." "Bullshit," the guard scoffed. "I know the names on this deed. The female resident registered here is Megan. Are you Megan?" I stared at him, stunned. The down payment on this house had come from our shared savings. When had her name replaced mine? "You're trespassing," the guard snapped, grabbing my jacket. "You're coming down to the station." "Let go of me!" I struggled, but my injured leg buckled. The guard shoved me roughly against the railing, his baton striking my bruised knee. A scream tore from my throat as I dropped to the concrete. He hauled me up by my collar and dragged me to the patrol vehicle like a common thief. By the time the police sorted out my identity and cleared the misunderstanding, twilight had bled into pitch black. I limped out of the precinct, every step feeling like I was walking on shattered glass. Then my phone rang. Sean’s name lit up the display. "Where are you?" His voice was tightly wound, brimming with rage. I stayed silent. My quiet seemed to light his fuse. "Why aren't you answering me?! Do you have any idea what your childish tantrum just caused?!" he roared through the receiver. "What is wrong with you? So the lock was changed and nobody told you—did you really have to run away like a spoiled child?" His breathing was ragged. "Megan felt so guilty when we found you weren't there. She blamed herself, ran out into the street looking for you, and got hit by a car! She’s in the trauma bay right now fighting for her life!" "Get your ass over here right now. Do you hear me—" I hung up. I flagged the first yellow cab that rolled past. "Airport," I told the driver. Outside, the neon lights of the city streaked by in a blur. The pain in my leg seemed to fade behind the singular, urgent thought of escaping. I was going back to my grandmother. I was going home. At the terminal, I dragged my bad leg toward the departure gate. But just as I reached the security line, a hand clamped down on my wrist like a vice. "Bethany." I turned, meeting Sean’s bloodshot, furious eyes. "Megan is lying in a hospital bed, and instead of coming to apologize, you're trying to skip town?" His grip was bruising, his knuckles white. "You're coming with me." He hauled me back through the terminal and shoved me into his car. I watched the silhouette of an airplane lift into the clouds beyond the runway. A strange, quiet calm settled over me. "Sean," I whispered. "It's over. We're done." He froze for a second, then let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "Don't use breakup threats on me. When did you become so venomous? Isn't it enough that you almost killed Megan? Do you have to make my life a living hell too?" He lectured me the entire drive back, demanding that I apologize to Megan, demanding that I nurse her until she recovered. I leaned my head against the cool window, closed my eyes, and stopped listening. When the car screeched to a halt outside the emergency entrance, an ER doctor was already rushing toward us. "Sean! Thank God you're here. She's deteriorating—she's suffering from massive internal bleeding and needs an immediate transfusion, but the regional blood bank is completely out of O-negative units!" Sean’s expression contorted into panic. He hesitated for only a fraction of a second before turning his gaze onto me. "Beth... you're O-negative." A hollow, disbelieving laugh tore from my throat. "Are you out of your mind?" Sean took a deep breath, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Megan was hit by that car because of you. Consider this settling the score." Before I could scream, he grabbed me by the shoulders and dragged me through the double doors into the trauma unit. He barked orders at two nurses, who pinned my arms down to the exam table. "Sean, stop! Let me go!" I thrashed, kicking wildly, my voice raw with terror. Sean stood over me, his eyes dark, set in stone. "Just this once, Beth." He turned to the attending doctor. "Give her a sedative." "Sean, she's clearly injured herself," the doctor protested, looking uneasy. "She has trauma to her leg, and her vitals are unstable. Administering a heavy sedative while drawing multiple units of blood could send her into shock—" "I am her legal emergency contact," Sean cut in, his voice brooking no argument. "I say she donates. Hand me the syringe. If anything happens, I take full responsibility." He snatched the needle from the tray, stepped to my side, and drove it into my arm. A cold, burning ache spread through my veins. The fluorescent lights blurred, bleeding into white noise. The last thing I heard was Sean’s low, muffled murmur hovering above me: "Don't be afraid, Beth. It'll be over soon. It won't hurt..." ... When I woke, my entire body felt as though it had been run through a meat grinder. Two junior nurses were whispering by the window, marveling at how devoted Sean was to Megan—how he had spent the night feeding her broth, changing her IV bags, and holding her hand without closing his eyes once. I stared at the ceiling, trying to block out their voices. When I moved my arm, a sharp sting rippled across my skin. A row of dark, ugly needle punctures ran down my forearm, surrounded by deep purple hematomas. Ignoring the dizziness, I ripped the IV catheter from the back of my hand and dragged myself out of bed. "Miss! You can't leave—Sean said you must stay in bed!" I didn't listen. I limped into the hall, but before I could reach the elevators, two of Sean’s private security guards stepped out, blocking my path. "Excuse us, ma'am." Before I could protest, they seized me by the elbows and hauled me up the stairwell, pushing through the heavy fire door that opened onto the roof. The wind was howling. I was tossed onto the gravel roof deck, catching myself on my palms. Across the rooftop, Megan stood precariously on the outside ledge of the safety railing, her hospital gown fluttering wildly in the gale. "It's all my fault," she wept, her voice trembling. "If it weren't for me, Beth wouldn't have run away... she wouldn't have lost so much blood for me..." Sean stood ten feet away, hands outstretched, his face pale with terror. "Megan, please! Step back inside!" Seeing me, Sean's eyes flashed. He marched over, grabbed my bruised arm, and dragged me toward the ledge. "Tell her, Beth! Tell her you aren't mad! Tell her you gave the blood willingly, that none of this was her fault!" His fingers dug directly into the fresh bruises on my forearm. He saw me flinch, but his guilt was swallowed instantly by his panic for Megan. "Talk to her, damn it!" The wind whipped across my eyes, stinging with cold tears. I refused to speak. Seeing my silence, Megan suddenly reached across the railing and grabbed my wrist. "Please don't blame Sean, Beth... it was all me—" Before I could comprehend what was happening, her grip turned into a sharp, violent shove. My feet slipped on the wet concrete. My center of gravity flipped over the metal rail. The sky tilted. I gasped, tumbling into empty air. "Beth!" Sean’s voice cracked. He lunged forward, his arm extending over the rail, his fingers inches from my flailing hand. In that heartbeat between life and death, Megan’s knees buckled. She cried out, pretending to faint. Sean froze. His body instinctively twitched—shifting one inch toward her. Just one inch. My fingers brushed against his knuckles, slipping off the cold leather of his watch. The wind roared in my ears as gravity ripped me down into the abyss. ... The smell of bleach and antiseptic was the first thing that returned to me. I opened my eyes to the white acoustic tiles of a hospital ceiling. Every breath felt like cracked glass grinding against my ribs. A low groan escaped my throat. Sean appeared instantly, hovering over the bed. "Beth? Are you in pain? I'll call the doctor right now." I turned my head away, avoiding his touch. Sean's hand hung awkwardly in mid-air before he pulled it back, trying to maintain an air of gentle concern. He poured water, brought medicine, and adjusted my pillows. He didn't say a single word about Megan pushing me over the ledge. (I had miraculously survived by landing on a heavy canvas maintenance awning two floors down, though the impact had fractured my ribs and collarbone.) For three days, he acted like the model partner, tending to my every need. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. "What kind of game are you playing, Sean?" His hand paused on the pill bottle. He looked away, shifting uncomfortably. "I know... I was out of line before." A shadow of shame crossed his features. "After you fell, Megan was traumatized. When she woke up, the doctors diagnosed her with psychogenic retrograde amnesia. She... she genuinely believes I am her boyfriend." The mask slipped, revealing his real agenda. "The doctors said any severe shock right now could cause permanent cognitive damage. So... just for a little while, I need you two to swap roles." The room fell into an eerie silence. I looked at him, a dead, humorless smile spreading across my cracked lips. So that was what this three-day display of devotion was for. It wasn't guilt. It was bribery. He wanted to pacify me so I wouldn't ruin his game of playing house with his secretary. "Fine," I said, closing my eyes. "Do whatever you want. I don't care." Sean frowned, thinking I was being sarcastic. "Beth, be reasonable. She had a mental breakdown because of what happened on the roof. It’s temporary. I swear to you, I will only play the part—I won't cross any lines. Once her memory returns, everything will go back to normal." I looked at this man who had once knelt in my visions, promising to love me forever. "I said yes, Sean." "What?" "You heard me. You're Megan's boyfriend now. To me, you're just a stranger." He blinked, caught off guard, then eyed me with suspicion. "What are your conditions?" I turned my face toward the wall, exhausted. "Get out." The following week was marked by gray, endless rain. The doctors forbade me from walking, so I spent my days staring out the window. Sometimes, I saw Megan on the hospital courtyard swing, Sean standing beside her, tilting the black umbrella entirely over her head while his own shoulder was soaked by the drizzle. Sometimes, I saw her looping her arm through his as they strolled along the garden path, tilting her head up to kiss his cheek. She played the spoiled child; he smiled with fond indulgence. Now that they had the official title of lovers, every touch between them looked effortless and natural. I watched them like a stranger watching a movie on a muted screen. My heart didn't even ache anymore. It was entirely numb. On the night before my discharge, Sean finally visited my room, carrying a velvet box. "Beth." His voice was awkward. He slid the box across the nightstand. When the lid popped open, an enormous ruby ring winked under the fluorescent light, its deep, blood-red stone glittering obscenely. I hated red. When I was six years old, my mother had found a velvet box containing a red gemstone ring in my father’s coat pocket. It had triggered the screaming match that shattered my family, leading directly to their divorce. Since then, the color of blood and red gems made me physically sick. Sean used to know that. He had spent our first anniversary searching for a rare pale-blue sapphire just to avoid giving me anything red. Now, he had forgotten. I pushed the box back across the table. "Take it away." Sean opened his mouth to speak, but the door flew open. His head bodyguard stumbled in, out of breath. "Sean! She went to the boutique mall to pick out a gift for you, and a van intercepted her! We lost their trail—she’s been kidnapped!" Sean went white. "What?" Then, his head snapped toward me. "Did you do this?" he hissed. I stared at him, incredulous. "Are you insane? How could I kidnap anyone from this bed?" Suspicion hardened his features into flint. "Who else would want to hurt her? Who else holds a grudge against her besides you?" I parted my lips to defend myself, but the words withered on my tongue. What was the point? When a man decides you are the villain, innocence is just another lie. That night, Sean discharged me forcefully. He brought me back to the suburban house, confiscated my phone, and posted two guards at my bedroom door. During the day, he turned the entire city upside down looking for Megan. At night, he returned smelling of rain and stale smoke, his eyes growing colder, treating me more and more like a prisoner awaiting sentencing. On the third night, he kicked the door open, reeking of bourbon. He gripped my shoulders, slamming me against the wall. "Where did you hide her, Beth?! Tell me!" "I don't know!" I cried out through the pain. "Stop lying!" he roared, his eyes bloodshot. "You hate her because she pushed you! You hate her because she thinks I’m hers! You hired those men to make her pay, didn't you?!" Before he could shake me again, the guard shouted from the hallway: "We found her! She escaped!" Sean dropped his hands instantly. I leaned against the wall, rubbing my bruised collarbone, watching Megan stumble into the room. Her clothes were torn, her face streaked with dirt and tears. "Sean!" she wailed, throwing herself into his arms. Sean held her tightly, running his hands over her hair. "You're safe now, Megan. You're home." Megan sniffled, then caught sight of me standing by the bed. She shrieked, cowering behind Sean like a terrified animal. "No! Keep her away from me!" she screamed, covering her head. "Don't let them hit me again! Don't lock me in the dark!" Sean's chest heaved. "Megan, look at me! It’s me, it’s Sean!" "The men who took me..." Megan sobbed, her voice ringing clear through the silence. "They said Beth paid them! They beat me and told me that's what happens when you steal another woman's man..." Sean’s expression turned utterly lethal. He stepped away from Megan and walked toward me. "Smack!" The slap was so hard my head whipped to the side, my cheek burning like fire. I stumbled, hitting the bedside table. "You vile, heartless bitch," Sean ground out through clenched teeth. I held my throbbing jaw, staring up at him. "She is lying. I have been locked in this room for three days—" "She has amnesia!" Sean smashed a glass lamp against the wall, shards flying across the floor. "She doesn't even know who she is! Why would she lie?!" A piece of glass nicked my calf, a tiny bead of blood welling up. The stinging pain cleared the fog in my mind, and I let out a low, ragged laugh. I looked past Sean, straight into Megan's eyes. Beneath the tears and the trembling hands, there was a faint, triumphant gleam in her pupils. "Have you had your fun yet, Megan?" I asked quietly. Megan flinched, burying her face into Sean's back. "You think amnesia is a joke, don't you?" Sean's voice was shaking with disgusted rage. "You think losing your mind is something people play pretend with? Fine. If you think it’s so easy, you can experience it yourself." He signaled the guards. Two heavy hands clamped down on my shoulders, forcing me to my knees amidst the broken glass. Sean crouched before me, pulling a plastic bottle of experimental neuro-inhibitors from his pocket. "The neurologist prescribed this for Megan this morning to stabilize her neuro-pathways. In a patient with cognitive trauma, it repairs the receptors. But in a healthy brain, a high dose induces violent hallucinations and severe retrograde memory loss within seventy-two hours." My eyes widened in pure horror. "Sean, no—" He clamped his hand over my jaw, prying my mouth open, and shoved three bitter pills down my throat, forcing water past my lips until I choked and swallowed. "Let’s see if you can still play the innocent victim when you don't even remember your own name." He stood up, turning his back on me as the chemical fire hit my stomach. He gently placed his hand over Megan's eyes. "Don't look, sweetheart. It’s dirty in here. Let's go to sleep." ... The agony began twenty minutes later. My skull felt like it was being cracked open with an iron wedge. I collapsed in the corner of the locked bedroom, dry-heaving violently, clawing at my scalp just to distract from the searing pressure behind my eyes. For three days, the door stayed locked. No food. No water. Just the guards forcing another dose of the bitter pills down my throat every morning. The drug tore through my thoughts like acid. Reality dissolved into fever dreams. Sometimes I saw an eighteen-year-old Sean running through a field of wild clover, turning to flash me that bright, boyish grin under the summer sun. Sometimes I saw Megan standing over me with a pair of shears, sneering as she cut my hair. And once, in the dead of the night, I saw my grandmother sitting by the edge of the mattress, humming the old lullaby she used to sing when I had the measles as a little girl. By the fourth morning, I woke to a vast, hollow white canvas. When Sean entered the room, I was sitting on the floor, staring blankly at the wall. It took me nearly two minutes of squinting at his face to register who he was. When he called my name, I noticed a flicker of panic—maybe even remorse—in his eyes. "Give her the neutralizing agent," he ordered the private doctor waiting in the hall. The needle slid into my arm. Sean winced, snapping at the doctor, "Be gentler." He looked down at me, his voice tight. "If you hadn't pushed things this far, Beth, I would never have had to scare you like this." As the counter-agent worked through my system, a brief wave of clarity washed over me. "I want to go home..." I rasped. Sean’s expression softened into something possessive. "This "is" our home." I tried to pull away, but my shoulder knocked against the nightstand, dislodging a thick, worn leather book. It fell open on the carpet. Sean bent down and picked it up. On the first page, written in faded colored ink, were the words: "Sean & Beth: Our Story." His breath caught. He turned the pages. Over a hundred pages of handwritten memories, ticket stubs, and dried flower petals—the living proof of how fiercely, completely I had once loved him. "Silly girl," he murmured, his voice cracking with sudden tenderness. "Once you recover, I’m taking you to the family estate to meet my grandfather. You have to be on your best behavior. Don't let them down." His phone buzzed before he could say more. He tucked the journal under his arm and stepped out, ordering the guard outside: "Watch the door. Don't let anything happen to her." His footsteps faded down the hall. A little while later, the bedroom door swung open again. I dragged myself toward the hall, leaning against the doorframe, only to see Megan lounging on the living room sofa, watching me like a cat watching a wounded sparrow. "Poor little thing," she whispered, rising and gliding toward me. "You were right, you know. I never had amnesia. I faked the whole thing. But what does it matter? Sean chose to believe me anyway." Seeing my dazed expression, she laughed, a high, mocking titter. "He really thought that doctor gave him mild neuro-blockers. He didn't know I swapped the prescription for an off-market degenerative compound." She waved an amber pill bottle in front of my face. "You're going to be a drooling vegetable by next week." A phantom bolt of agony ripped through my temples. The haze in my mind split wide open. The humiliation, the forced blood draws, the terror on the rooftop, the days of torture—all of it exploded into blinding, incandescent fury. I lunged forward, shoving Megan onto the glass coffee table, and grabbed the fruit knife resting on the silver platter. "Get away from me!" "Ahhh!" Megan shrieked as I swung the blade in a wild arc. The edge caught her across the cheek. Blood welled up instantly, spilling through her manicured fingers. "You crazy bitch!" she screamed, her face contorting with monstrous rage. "Grab her! Kill her!" The two guards lunged into the foyer. Gripping the bloody knife, I threw a decorative lamp at the nearest guard, ducked beneath his outstretched arm, and bolted through the heavy front doors into the pouring rain. "Bethany! You're dead! You hear me?!" Her screams were swallowed by the thunder. I ran blindly down the suburban avenue, the icy deluge soakin