Aurora's POV

I knew he wouldn't easily buy my amnesia act, but I hadn't expected him to be so blunt.

I put on a mask of polite confusion.

"I'm afraid I don't quite follow, Mr. Gallagher," I replied, my tone perfectly even. "My doctors have been very clear about my condition. Perhaps you're confusing me with someone else?"

I gently tugged on Elliot's arm. "Elliot, I really need to step away for a moment. This conversation is getting a bit... confusing."

Elliot offered a polite, somewhat stiff nod. "Conrad, if you'll excuse us. Aurora needs to rest."

Hand on my back, he guided me away, weaving through the thinning crowd. I could feel the heat of Conrad's stare burning into my back the entire way.

As we walked, we cast a stealthy glance over our shoulders.

Conrad was still standing there, watching us, his dark, commanding figure standing out starkly against the glittering backdrop of the ballroom.

"Hurry, Elliot," I whispered.

"Copy that." Elliot picked up the pace, leading me down a secluded corridor toward a private lounge.

He pulled the heavy double doors shut behind him, instantly blanketing the room in silence.

He turned to me, a sly grin playing on his lips. "Well, that was a dramatic exit, wouldn't you say? Straight out of a movie. I half expected him to declare his undying love and sweep you away in a horse-drawn carriage."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't be ridiculous, Elliot. Even if true love bit him on the ass, he wouldn't recognize it. A carriage? Please. He'd probably have a self-driving Tesla waiting."

Elliot's laughter always had a way of grounding me.

Like me, he came from old money. However, Elliot had always bucked family expectations, choosing architecture over finance, pursuing passion over profit.

He knew the suffocating weight of family expectations all too well. Because of that, he understood my need for this fake engagement—a mutual escape hatch from our respective families' pressures.

It was a partnership, a strategic alliance, but it felt like much more than that.

"So," Elliot's tone softened, "five years together. Any regrets?"

I shook my head. "It's only a relationship if the love is mutual. One-sided devotion is just playing the martyr."

As I spoke, my hand accidentally brushed against the soft fabric of Conrad's coat, which was still draped over my shoulders.

"Oh, for god's sake." I yanked the coat off. "Elliot, please, go give this back to him."

Elliot took the coat. "On it."

"I'll be right here, waiting by the window," I said, pointing to a secluded alcove. "Make it quick."

He nodded, gave my hand a comforting squeeze, and disappeared back through the double doors. I watched him go, then walked over to the window, gazing out at the city lights.

Suddenly, a deep, abrupt voice sounded behind me: "Looking for someone?"

I froze, my blood running cold. I knew that voice. It was Conrad.

I turned around slowly, my heart hammering in my chest.

"Mr. Gallagher," I said, striving for a perfectly neutral tone. "I assumed you had left. I sent Elliot to return your jacket..."

Before I could finish, he moved. His hand shot out, wrapping like a vice around my wrist.

"I need to talk to you," he said, his voice raspy.

"What do you want?" I demanded, wrenching myself free from his grip.

"Aurora," he murmured, his voice low and dark. "Tell me, have you really forgotten everything we shared? Forgotten everything about us?"

I hesitated, my breath catching in my throat. "I... I told you," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. "My memory... isn't what it used to be."

"Oh? You remember Elliot, but conveniently forgot me?"

I pressed my lips together, finding that difficult to answer.

"And what about this?" His voice was thick with gravel. Without waiting for a reply, he lunged forward and crashed his lips onto mine, rough and domineering.

The sudden assault shocked me, panic instantly short-circuiting my brain. His hands, resting on my shoulders, slid up my neck to cup my jaw, pulling me flush against him.

His kiss was aggressive. My head spun, and I couldn't breathe.

This wasn't love; it was a violation.

Conrad must have sensed my revulsion and my violent resistance. He pulled back slightly, his breathing heavy and ragged. In the dim light, his eyes were wild and desperate. But he didn't let me go; his arms remained locked around my waist, holding me captive.

"You're so beautiful, Aurora," he whispered hoarsely. "There's no way you've forgotten everything."

"Tell me, Aurora. Do you really have amnesia? Or is it... selective amnesia? Are you forgetting me on purpose?"

Aurora's POV

My eyes burned with raw fury.

"Selective amnesia?" I scoffed. "Is that what you call it? That's hilarious."

I jabbed a finger at his chest, my voice rising. "Mr. Gallagher, based on what you just did, my lawyers would be well within their rights to press charges."

"You yourself denied that we ever had an intimate relationship. Mere acquaintances, or old friends, remember?"

"What? Was our past relationship something that couldn't be mentioned in front of my fiancé? Was I just your hookup?"

I sneered, "I am a Buchanan. Does it make any logical sense that I would lower myself to be your dirty little secret bedmate?"

"Are you really that irresistible?" I deliberately gave his body a slow, appraising once-over. "Looks pretty average to me."

"So, was I played by you, or was I scammed by you?"

"Aurora Buchanan!" he ground out through clenched teeth.

"Alright, alright." I threw my hands up in mock surrender. "Let's just say I had terrible taste back then. And since we were just 'friends with benefits,' maybe Mr. Gallagher doesn't have the standing to question me."

He was the one who said I was just a hookup.

If that was the case, I was going to throw the word right back in his face.

Conrad took a deep breath. "Don't be like this, Aurora. I didn't know you wanted to marry me, or that you wanted the title of girlfriend."

"I broke it off with my fiancée. If you want to be my girlfriend, then be my girlfriend."

"I've missed you so much lately. What I said that day was wrong. I do care about you."

"So stop throwing a tantrum, and let's go back to the way things were, okay?"

My face remained entirely blank.

Conrad didn't get it at all. He still thought this was about the title of fiancée or girlfriend.

The biggest issue was that he had never, ever respected me.

I held up my left hand, the diamond on my ring catching the dim light. "I told you, I don't remember the past. I'm engaged. Engaged to Elliot."

My tone hardened. "In fact, I find you completely unappealing right now. You're just not my type. Not anymore."

Conrad's jaw tightened further, the grinding of his teeth clearly audible. His eyes locked onto my ring, dark and dangerous.

"I am completely indifferent to you," I said, holding his gaze with eerie calm. "You're a stranger to me. And honestly, you're just not attractive to me. My fiancé is more charming, more considerate, and better than you in every conceivable way."

"Better in every way?" he repeated through gritted teeth.

I looked up at him. "Mr. Gallagher, this is the last time. The next time we meet, we are strangers."

I turned on my heel, grabbed the doorknob, pulled the door open, and stepped out into the hallway.

Once I was safely away, out of his line of sight, my carefully constructed composure instantly crumbled. A wave of exhaustion washed over me, heavy and suffocating.

The calm, resolute expression I had just worn twisted into a grimace of pain.

An ache flared in my chest, a bitter reminder of the five years I had wasted, of the person I used to be, and of the sheer agony he had put me through.

Just for fun. The words echoed in my mind, biting and cruel.

Back in the lounge, Conrad stood perfectly still.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

He slowly pulled it out and answered, his voice low and gravelly, "Hello?"

"Conrad? Did you find her? Is Aurora okay?"

"Yeah," Conrad said flatly, devoid of emotion. "I found her."

"Thank god! Are you bringing her back?"

Conrad let out a harsh, humorless laugh. "She has amnesia. She forgot me. And she's engaged to Elliot Brooks..."

Aurora's POV

I walked down the hotel corridor until I spotted Elliot waiting for me. His eyes kept darting to my face.

"Darling, your lipstick is a little smudged," he noted, keeping his tone light to break the awkward tension. "Did he really get that close?"

I instinctively raised my hand and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand in sheer disgust.

Once we were in the car, Elliot watched me, his fingers lightly tapping the steering wheel, his expression unreadable. He was handsome—a slightly messy, effortless kind of good looks, with dark, tousled hair. His eyes, which usually danced with a playful light, were dark and unfathomable right now.

"So," he murmured, "what's the plan now? Rekindling the old flame? Or are you ready to unleash the full fury of a woman scorned?"

I shrugged, resting my head against the cool window glass. "He's already out of my life, Elliot. That's the only plan I need. I'm not looking back. Never."

"I just want him to disappear completely. To become a total stranger."

He used me, threw me away, and made me feel invisible. Now, I was making him invisible. It seemed the universe really did have a twisted sense of humor.

Elliot flashed his signature cynical grin. "Good," he said, taking one hand off the wheel to make an exaggerated gesture. "Because if he ever tries to mess with you again, I'll make sure he regrets it."

I laughed, a genuine, joyful sound.

My phone buzzed, vibrating against my leg. I pulled it out. It was a new text message.

Seeing the sender's name—Conrad Gallagher—made my stomach tie itself into knots.

The message was brief: "You left your favorite pen in my office. Pick a time and come get it."

My favorite pen. It was a limited-edition Montblanc, a graduation gift from college.

I drew all my most important design sketches with it.

"Damn it," I cursed under my breath. "He actually kept my pen. My good pen." I needed that pen. It was a tool, yes, but it was also a symbol of my career and my independence. I absolutely refused to let him keep it.

I quickly fired back a text, keeping up the amnesia charade.

"Hello, Mr. Gallagher. A pen? I'm afraid I don't recall leaving anything in your office. Could you please mail it to my studio address? I'll cover the courier fees." I deliberately included the full address of my studio, right down to the zip code and instructions for the front desk. Every detail had to be perfect to maintain the illusion.

I hit send, assuming that would be the end of it. A simple transaction, no big deal. But almost immediately, another message popped up.

"I also have your copy of The Master and Margarita. The one with all your annotations."

I held my breath, my heart rate skyrocketing. That book was incredibly precious to me. Its margins were filled with my thoughts, my dreams, pieces of my very soul.

The thought of him holding that book, reading my private thoughts, made my skin crawl.

It felt like a violation. He had never paid any attention to my academic interests before, always brushing them off as "cute" or "quirky." Now, suddenly, these things mattered to him?

It infuriated me. He was actually weaponizing my own past against me.

God, he was a manipulative bastard.

I replied, my fingers trembling slightly with rage. "Mr. Gallagher, your messages are making me uncomfortable. If those items were truly so important, why didn't you return them sooner?"

The three typing dots appeared on the screen. Then they vanished. Then they appeared again. He was hesitating. Good. Let him sweat.

I let out a humorless scoff, locked my phone, and tossed it onto the dashboard. I was done indulging him. He wasn't worth my energy. My right hand involuntarily bunched up the fabric of my dress, twisting it tightly. The anger was just a thin veil masking the lingering hurt underneath.

Later that night, long after I had tried venting my frustrations to Elliot, my phone buzzed again on my nightstand. It was another text from Conrad.

"Aurora, you used to love me so much."

"You lost your memory. Maybe... we can start over."

A wave of nausea hit me. I deleted the message before even finishing it.

I wasn't going to reply. I wasn't giving him an inch.

After that, Conrad went quiet for a while.

I threw myself entirely into my work, designing branding for a new startup while simultaneously planning my wedding to Elliot. The sheer busyness of it all was a welcome distraction.

One afternoon, I was hunched over the drafting table in my studio, hard at work.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed.

"Elliot," I muttered, my eyes glued to the screen. "Could you check that for me? I'm knee-deep in this design."

Elliot was lounging in a cozy armchair in my studio, a half-eaten sandwich dangling over his chest as he studied a blueprint.

He sighed dramatically. "Do I have to? It's probably another desperate plea from your ex-admirer. Who knows, maybe he's seen the light and wants to donate his entire fortune to charity, just for your forgiveness."

He picked up my phone, his eyes scanning the message.

In a high-pitched, theatrical voice, he mocked what he imagined to be Conrad's tone. "'Dearest Aurora, I found your childhood teddy bear, Mr. Snuggles. He misses you, and so do I. Please come back to me.'"

I glared at him. "Elliot, stop being an ass. Just tell me what it says."

He chuckled, but then his expression shifted slightly. "Alright, alright. It says, 'I'll be dropping by your studio this afternoon to return your things.'"

I was just about to tell him to reply with a hard "No," when my eyes caught sight of a half-eaten bag of chips on the coffee table. My stomach rumbled loudly. I had been so hyper-focused on work that I'd forgotten to eat.

"Chips!" I exclaimed, practically leaping out of my chair.

Elliot grunted, swiping the bag of chips just out of my reach. "I am supervising your wedding prep, making sure everything is perfect for our big day. Someone has to do it, seeing as you seem far more interested in consuming your own body weight in snacks."

I waved a hand dismissively. "Relax. It's just a wedding, it's fine. We're only doing it for our families, remember? Just to get them off our backs."

Elliot's usually fluid movements suddenly froze. His back was to me, but I could see his posture go rigid.

A strange, almost desolate silence filled the room.

My heart sank. I had crossed a line. I had forgotten the unspoken undertones beneath this "marriage of convenience."

Yet, when he finally spoke, his voice was very soft. "Aurora," he said without turning around, "this might be convenient for our families, but to me... this is still our wedding. It matters."