Forget Me Not Melissa Morgan Novels & Stories

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

"Please. You have to remember. You have to remember me." She flinched at his touch, pulling away. Her brow furrowed, confusion etched across her pale features. "I don't... I don't know you. I don't know anything." The words hit him like a physical blow. He felt his heart crack, splintering into a thousand pieces. Five years of fighting, of loving, of building a life together and she didn't remember any of it. Morgana rushed forward, her face pale with horror. "Elena, it's me. It's Morgana. Your cousin. Please, you have to remember."

“Where are you? Send me the—“ “Um, Melissa, are you sure this is the right one?” My spine straightens the moment I hear Morgana’s breathy voice. “Yes yes! It’s so beautiful, Mor. I can’t even decide which one suits you best!” She clears her throat. “Sorry, busy day over here. You were saying?” “Send me the address. Now.” She lets out a long whine. “It’s for me and my girls only! You’re not invited.” “Yeah well you made it my fucking problem when you invited that fucker Karl. I swear to the moon, Melissa, if I find you myself, heavens help you.”

She'd taken a flight all the way here to my hometown to look for me, and yet, the only things she could remember were the smaller, menial events. "So, you think that I'm going to stop being angry at you just because you've already apologized to me? Is that why you came to apologize in the first place? "What about the next time you forget again? Are you going to accuse me of not telling you about my phobias or allergies again?" Bridget looked up at once. "No way! I just really forgot about them this time. I've been too busy—" "Busy with what?" She froze. I continued, "Busy getting together with your friends? Busy going for barbecues at the beach? Busy meeting up with your high school teacher

"We're the Sullivans, and one of us might marry Summer someday. You’d better watch out, or you might lose your jobs!" I heard him and laughed, but I was really mad. "Acting all high and mighty in front of my hospital room? I don't even know you guys. Why would I marry any one of you?" Nelson ran up to me, trying to grab my hand, but I pulled away. His eyes were red, as if he had been crying a lot. "Summer, I talked to the doctor. He said you might have lost your memory because of the surgery. "It's okay. If you forgot us, we'll make new, happy memories together. It'll be our way of making things right, okay?"

he instructed as the king shook his hands. "And what happens if he doesn't regain the memories?" I asked the doctor, and he simply shrugged before he left the house after a few exchanges of some more pleasantries between him and the king. "Thank you, Doctor Griffin; we will do exactly as you have instructed," I responded and hurried into the house. Maera was seated on the sofa, looking sorrowful. I went to her, and she didn't even realize that I was in the room until I touched her gently on the shoulder. She jolted and held her chest as she looked at me.

She sounded exasperated. “Breathe…” Killian cautioned her, coming to sit on the desk as she pushed papers over trying to find something he had no idea about. She was the most organized person Killian knew outside his father who had his mental illness to thank for his ability to organize even the most largest cases. A little guilt lurked in his chest as he watched her rough hair fall over her face. “Melissa, maybe you should take a break—” “So who's gonna make sure things get done?” Melissa looked at him, blowing a hair strand that tickled the side of her face with frustration. They both knew the answer.

Melissa asked, looking between Christian and me. I squared my shoulders, feeling a sense of determination settle over me. "Now, we get answers. Christian, can you get in touch with that hypnotherapist? We need to know exactly what Melissa remembers about the night her mother died." Christian nodded, already pulling out his phone. "Melissa," I continued, turning to my cousin. "I need you to write down everything you can remember about that night. Every detail, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem." "What about you?" Christian asked, his hand finding mine.

It was as if they'd teleported them out, without a single sound. I'd read of teleportation recently in the journal from Elder Micha, it spoke of a number of basic spells and enchantments. I couldn't help but wonder if Remi had an old journal or family heirlooms that he too was able to learn his witchcraft from. It plagued my mind so much that I'd struggled restlessly to get any sleep last night. There were still so many unanswered questions surrounding the entire situation and no where to find the answers. As well as the lingering threat of today supposedly being the last day of Carn's countdown.

Sofia answered, “yes. Congratulation.” “Thank you so much!” Tasha appreciated, excitedly, “You are welcome. Hope to see you soon.” Sofia smiled and ended the call. “Wow!” Tasha jumped on the bed excitedly. She got down from the bed and ran out of the room to share the good news with Malachi, and as she stepped out, she saw a note in front of her toe. She picked it up and readout. “Go to the dinning?” She smiled and walked to the dining to meet the table set. She saw another note on the table and read the instruction. “Sit down.”