Forget Me Not Bombshell Novels & Stories

My parents shrank under the stares, their proud expression fading into stiff, pale faces. Suddenly, Audrey's eyes widened, as if she'd just thought of a way out. She jabbed her finger at the screen, shouting, "That woman in the video isn't me! "I have a twin sister—her name's Aurora. She's the one in that footage!"

The symbol beneath her flared. And then— Fire exploded outward. I stumbled back. “No…” “That is where it began,” he said. I shook my head slowly. “No, no, no… this is not real.” “It is,” he said. “I would never do that,” I insisted. “You already did,” he replied. Tears filled my eyes. “Then why do not I remember?” “Because someone made sure you did not,” he said. I froze. “What?” “You were not meant to forget forever,” he continued. “Just long enough.”

It was not until the next day that the real bombshell dropped. A reliable source — one that the media had come to trust over the years — confirmed what many had suspected: Felicity Vermont was the mastermind behind the entire plot. Within hours, the news was everywhere. Felicity’s face was plastered across television screens, her name trending on social media. The stepmother of Alexander Vermont, the wife of Alessandro Vermont, had orchestrated a kidnapping and a bombing in a desperate bid to maintain her power within the Vermont Corporation.

Aaron threw a bomb at her as she was first shocked then she looked at everyone who were anxious about their Queen. "No." She said while crying. " No you can't do this to me. I don't want to forget you and anyone of you." " You have to." Aaron said as she ran upstairs inside her room nodding her head in no. She didn't want to forget the first love of her life. •••••••••~~~♪♪♪~~~••••••••••

"And the person behind you was the man who failed to attend today, makes sense right? Because he could smell that his identity will be no longer a secret today. And their sh*ts will unfold. None other than, the CEO of Coleman Empire, Mr.Achilles Coleman." "And inside of this flash drive I am holding was the footage of their conversation before the recent bombing in Russia, and pieces of evidence to prove my claim. Let's all watch it."

she pleaded with him. Lesly ignored her and one of his gang members brought a briefcase to him. I was weak and couldn’t get a word out at this point, I had no strength to fight for my own life and Kate managed to get up and wiped the blood from her nose with the palm of her hand. Lesly opened the briefcase and took out an injection, he turned his attention to me. “This here is a special medicine and you’re lucky to be the first one to receive it. The good thing is that it doesn’t kill you but it wipes your memory and you forget who you are. It takes away your identity” he explained, as he prepared the injection.

My social psychology professor gave us a simple assignment: text the words I love you to the family member we were closest to, then record their first reaction. My parents had died seven years earlier in an ambush meant for the DeLuca family. With no one else to text, I sent the message to Roman DeLuca—the youngest Don in New York’s underworld and the man the court had once appointed as my temporary guardian. The typing bubble appeared and disappeared all night. At two in the morning, his answer finally came. [Mara, don’t confuse dependence with love. Whatever exists between us can never cross that line.] The next day, he stripped away every privilege he had ever given me, disconnected our p

"You're clueless about who created that drug, aren't you? It was Macie, your ex-wife. "Here's another bombshell for you. There's no cure for the memory loss. Macie's forgotten you for good. She's not coming back to you, so go ahead and live it up with your new flame."

Like something in me cracked and no one noticed. Sophia flinched next to me. Her fingers trembled against mine. "He’s not here. He left twenty minutes before the blast." My stomach turned. I pulled my hand from hers and stormed toward what used to be my car. The front end was gone. Blackened. Twisted. Smelled like death. That bomb was meant for me. I knew it. Everyone knew it. "He’s out. Effective immediately. Lock him out of every damn line. Finance, shipping, and ports. Pull everything."

“Never used.” And then there was a photograph. I lift it with trembling fingers. Dad and Marcus on the deck of the “Scheherazade”, shaking hands. *Three hours before my father shot himself.* The edges are singed, as if someone tried to burn it but changed their mind. “Damien.” Elena answers on the first ring. “You’re not going to believe what I just found.” Her screen shares a document a Blackstone internal memo, marked **CONFIDENTIAL** in bold red letters.