A name slipped from my lips before I even realized it. "Is it… Jacob Cabot?"

The moment I said it, I froze. I didn't even know who that was.

Jake gave a cold snort, his eyes flashing with the unspoken words: I knew it.

But who was this person… and why did I know his name?

…

I kept pressing Jake for answers, but he refused to acknowledge me.

Only when the bodyguard came to escort him to school did he finally pause, throwing a scathing look over his shoulder.

"If you keep following me, when you're old, I'll dump you in a nursing home."

I stopped in my tracks, stunned, and could only watch him leave.

What on earth had happened these past few years? The last thing I remember was that I was twenty-three.

Grabbing my phone, I instinctively entered Alicia's birthday as the password. Sure enough, it unlocked.

But when I opened the contacts list, there was only one entry—hers.

I thought I must be hallucinating. I checked again. Still, only her name remained.

At least I knew she had become the CEO of Reinfield Group. Without hesitation, I hailed a cab and rushed to her company.

What I didn't expect was to be blocked at the entrance by bodyguards. Even after I stated my identity, they refused to let me in.

"Ms. Reinfield gave strict orders. You are not allowed inside."

I was dumbfounded. I never thought Alicia would go this far.

Yet the more ruthless she was, the more desperate I became to uncover the truth.

So I sat down right there in the lobby entrance, drawing stares from employees as they passed.

Before long, a woman approached, claiming to be Alicia's assistant. Her brows knit together, her tone dripping with mockery. "Mr. Deacon, have you seriously forgotten today is the anniversary of Jacob's death?"

Death anniversary? Jacob… was dead?

Seeing me rooted in shock, she let out a derisive snort.

"No wonder Ms. Reinfield called ahead, saying your act was convincing. Seeing you now, I agree—you really are putting on a show, to the point of pretending you don't even remember the day of Jacob's passing.

"Or maybe you chose to fake amnesia today, of all days. Are you afraid Jacob will come back to claim your life?"

I stood there in utter bewilderment. Maybe the twenty-eight-year-old me knew Jacob—but the twenty-three-year-old me truly didn't.

Before I could explain, the assistant summoned security and had me thrown out.

With no other options, I returned home, hoping my family might finally give me answers.

When I arrived at my parents' estate, the house was shrouded in silence.

The servants looked at me as though I were some kind of monster.

Only the old butler rushed over, panic in his eyes.

"Young master, why did you come back today of all days? You must leave at once!"

Before I could react, hurried footsteps echoed through the hall.

I turned my head, just in time to take a hard slap across the face.

Stunned, I looked up to see my mother.

She was nothing like the elegant, radiant woman from my memories. Her hair had turned silver, and wrinkles carved deep lines across her face.

"Mom… why did you hit me?" I asked, bewildered.

But before I could finish, her hand lifted again.

I dodged instinctively, only to see her trembling with rage, her whole body quaking.

"You monster! How dare you come back here? You killed your father and Jacob. Was that not enough? Do you want to take me down with you too? Get out! Get out of this house!"

Her fury left me stunned, unable to comprehend. Just as I was about to ask for an explanation, the butler dragged me away, his face clouded with unease.

"Young master… please. Come back another day."

His voice dropped to a pained whisper.

"You've used this trick before. It won't work."

I stared at him blankly. Why were his words the same as Alicia's?

But I wasn't pretending. I truly couldn't remember anything.

…

Only after I pleaded and sought clarification again and again did the butler finally believe me—believe that I really had lost my memory.

At last, he revealed the truth.

"Jacob was your father's illegitimate son. He bore his mother's surname. Because your wife and father both favored him, you were consumed by jealousy… and caused the car accident."

"The scar on your face was from back then. Ms. Reinfield only married you because you used it to threaten her."

The butler's voice faltered, but I already understood what he was implying.

"So… I was the one who killed Jacob?"

He nodded. "When your father found out, his rage triggered a stroke. He passed not long after."

My mind went blank. I couldn't breathe. But how could that be? I wasn't someone so extreme. I could never do such a thing.

Staggering home in a daze, I found Alicia already there. Compared to this morning, she looked utterly worn down, her face streaked with tears.

The words slipped out of me instinctively. "It wasn't me…"

But she snapped, her voice breaking into a hysterical scream.

"There were only the two of you in that car! Who else could it have been but you? Your jealousy is terrifying! I praised Jacob once—just once—and you killed him for it!"

Her bloodshot eyes fixed on me, burning with the conviction that I was a monster beyond redemption.

I tried to explain, but before I could, a small body barreled into me. I stumbled back under the force.

It was Jake. Tiny fists raised, he stood between me and his mother, glaring.

"Don't bully Mommy!"

My heart lurched. Looking at him, one thought struck me with chilling clarity—his name.

I forced the question out, my throat tight. "So… Jake's name… It's short for Jacob?"

Alicia drew in sharp, deliberate breaths, as though trying to suppress her emotions. After a long silence, she looked at me again. Her earlier hysteria was gone, replaced by an icy calm.

"You just admitted it yourself. Why keep pretending?"

Without giving me a chance to speak, she turned and left.

Despair hollowed me out, but still I wanted to explain.

Yet Jake clung to my sleeve with all his strength, his little face twisted from the effort. His voice, soft yet relentless, repeated like a curse, "Bad man. Don't bully Mommy!"

A crushing sense of helplessness swallowed me whole. In the end, I yielded to his demand.

I sank into the living room sofa, mind spiraling. No matter how I turned it over, I could not believe I was capable of such a crime.

Across from me, Jake sat watchful, eyes sharp as blades, guarding against me as though I were some predator.

"Jake," I ventured, voice low, "can you tell Daddy what happened between me and Mommy?"

His face hardened, his glare searing with hatred.

"You don't deserve to mention Mommy. I wish you two would divorce already!"

The words pierced me. For a moment, I froze, then met his icy gaze and realized—he wasn't lying.

I shook my head in despair, a bitter smile tugging at my lips.

If Jacob were still alive, I could confront him and demand to know why he had framed me. But now… the dead leave no testimony.

With a long, heavy sigh, I rose to return to my room.

At once, Jake sprang up too, eyes wary and locked on me.

I raised a hand in surrender, offering a helpless explanation. "I'm not going to your Mommy. I just want to rest."

Only then did he relax, visibly relieved.

I should have felt proud—proud that my son, still so young, already knew how to protect his mother.

So why did my heart ache instead?

…

Lying in bed, grief pressed down on me from every side.

I racked my brain for ways to prove my innocence, but no thread led anywhere.

I was sure my 23-year-old self was not capable of such a crime. But could I say the same for my 28-year-old self?

No wonder the reflection I had seen in the mirror that morning had been disheveled and broken.

Still, I couldn't just give up. I loved Alicia too much to watch our love vanish without a fight.

Then, suddenly, an idea sparked—hire a private investigator.

I grabbed my phone in haste, searching for contacts, but by accident opened the Notes app instead.

What I saw there made my blood run cold.

Pages and pages, crammed with entries.

I had always kept notes before, recording Alicia's preferences and our anniversaries.

But now—now every entry belonged to the twenty-eight-year-old me. Each line bled with helplessness and despair.

I scrolled through them all, reading every word.

And at last… the truth of what happened that year revealed itself.