Little Did She Know, I Was the Real VIP

After five years of amnesia, I suddenly regained my memory and got back in touch with my biological parents, who were in Regalton.

I headed straight for the study, eager to share the good news with my wife, Christine Blackwell.

But from inside the study, I overheard my mother-in-law, Irina Fawcett, asking impatiently, "Why haven't you divorced Timothy yet?"

Christine soothed Irina and said in a low voice, "There's no need for a divorce. We were never really married."

Irina was stunned. And so was I.

Christine let out a soft, mocking laugh. "The marriage certificate I got with him back then was fake. It didn't even have an official seal on it."

Irina was overjoyed and quickly urged, "Then hurry up and marry Edison and go with him to Regalton!"

"The transfer approval came through," Christine said. "I secretly applied for a transfer, and I've also registered my marriage with Edison. I'll be going with him to the capital soon enough."

Irina happily agreed, then added coldly that she'd send me back to the countryside tomorrow.

Christine hesitated before saying softly, "Mom, he can earn an income, take care of chores around the house, and take care of you too. It's actually better to keep him around than to drive him out.

"In fact, it'd be best if we could string him along for the rest of his life."

I felt as if I'd been struck by lightning and plunged into an ice cave. My hands and feet trembled badly.

Late that night, I pretended to be sound asleep when Christine tiptoed back into the room.

She tucked the blanket around me, then snuggled into my arms in the same intimate way as always. The bed was warm, but I felt chilled to the bone.

Early the next morning, I ran to the post office and queued up to make a phone call.

The moment I heard the familiar kind, authoritative voice from my memories, I choked up and blurted out, "Dad…"

The household erupted in excitement. My family wept with joy, each fighting to grab the phone and speak to me.

I kept it short, explaining that after I fell off a cliff years ago, I'd hit my head and was lucky to have been rescued by a farmer downstream. It wasn't until yesterday that my memory unexpectedly returned.

My dad, Franklin Carrington, said he would come down south himself to pick me up and told me to wait at a designated meeting spot in five days.

I agreed.

He also asked if I had a sweetheart or someone close who would want to come home together with me.

Thinking of what I'd heard the night before, I felt my heart twist with pain. "No, it'll be just me."

After the call, I ran to the military factory for my shift.

A sea of bicycles flooded toward the factory gate, but I could only run on foot.

As a temporary worker, I made only 16 dollars an hour, and Christine demanded I hand over every cent. I could never save enough for a bicycle, so I commuted on foot every day.

Just then, a car horn blared behind me. The bicycles scattered to make way, and I was pushed into a corner.

An army truck rolled up smoothly.

Behind the wheel sat a handsome man with a bright smile. It was Edison Whitman.

He held the steering wheel, occasionally glancing at Christine in the passenger seat with a tender, adoring gaze.

Christine, in the blue factory uniform and her hair down, smiled charmingly back at him.

Someone in the crowd exclaimed, "Hey! Isn't that Christine, the most beautiful woman at the factory? She's gorgeous."

"Hey, don't you get any ideas, lad. She's about to marry Edison, the factory director's son."

The army truck drove off toward the administration building, leaving only a trail of exhaust.