Forgotten Juliet Novels & Stories

But the pain of his initial rejection had acted like a slow poison, killing the fragile, hopeful girl she used to be. "You are a stranger, Julian," she whispered. "The Julian I loved wouldn't have signed those severance papers. The Julian I loved wouldn't have let Cynthia humiliate me for weeks while he watched from the dais. You killed that version of yourself the day you decided a human mate wasn't worth the political trouble." Julian’s face drained of color, his hands dropping to the floor. The truth of her words was a physical weight, crushing him into the dirt. Before he could respond, a sharp, rhythmic knock sounded at the double doors.

“You think my silence means it’s forgotten?” My grip tightened slightly, just enough for a thin line of blood to form on his skin. “Five years ago… you think I have forgotten who killed Juliet?” The room froze. Even the air seemed to stop moving. I turned my head slightly, my gaze slicing toward Laura, who was curled tightly in Victor’s arms. Her scent spiked sharply with fear and guilt. “And then…” I continued, my voice rising, “when they cling to each other like that… why don't you call it what it is?”

Happy was more complicated, but she didn't say that out loud. After she hung up, Juliet couldn't sleep. She kept thinking about Victor Oba's visit. About the South African investors who were probably already digging into her past. About how quickly her simple life had become complicated. She'd signed up for a year of playing a role. She hadn't signed up for her family being targeted. Around midnight, she gave up on sleep and went downstairs. The house was dark except for the security lights. She wandered through the empty rooms, feeling like a ghost in someone else's life.

Every memory cut like a sharp blade into my heart, leaving me in agony beyond bearing. I often drank alone, until I was blind with liquor, then screamed Seraphina’s name into the empty air, whispering I’m sorry over and over again. But I knew it was useless. No amount of apologies could bring her back, could undo the hurt I’d inflicted on her. I sent my men to every corner of Sicily, to Milan, to Rome, to countless cities across the globe. But not a single trace of her was ever found. It was as if she had never existed at all.

My fingertips hover above her cheek as I remember summer nights when touching her wasn’t complicated by years of bitterness. Five years ago, her brother stole everything from me—my business, my reputation, nearly my life. Tonight, fate delivered his most precious possession directly into my hands. Complete amnesia. The words echo through my mind and settle like foundation stones beneath a plan that forms with each passing second. “If you don’t remember who you are,” I whisper to her sleeping form, “then I’ll tell you exactly who you need to be.” A wedding ring sits heavy in my pocket—a prop from an undercover operation last year that I had Mateo fetch. Perfect for convincing a woman with no

“These are… Why are they sending these? They’re absurd!” It was several texts informing Atlas I would never forgive him so easily. One, and I quote, said ‘You think any woman would forget losing their identity? Do you think Julia will forget that she lost six years with her children and her freedom because of you? No woman can forget that Atlas. She must be waiting to strike,’ “This is so stupid. I am Julia, so it’s baseless.” I deadpanned but Greta didn’t smile. “You haven’t realized, have you?”

Even part of the foundation crumbled. William had stayed the night with Dad at the villa. Choking on the smoke, he failed to escape in time. He died by the fire door at the end of the hallway, still clutching a necklace I'd given him for his birthday. Juliet's body was found under the bed in the guest bedroom on the third floor. She was wearing the dress I wore to my college graduation ceremony, her face burned beyond recognition. By the time Dad was rescued, his spine had been broken, rendering him paralyzed for life. When he regained consciousness, he was hit with three tragedies all at once.

I tried to explain, looking helpless, “Mam, I can’t even remember anything about that night. Something was wrong with my health. But, don’t judge me for that-” Juliet stood up from her chair annoyedly, she ordered one of her companions, “Call, Mr Hogg and inform him about this lady.” Then, taking a few steps towards me, she threatened, glaring at me, “Are you leaving or should I call the guards?” I looked back into her eyes as I answered sharply, “I need this job. Allow me to meet with Mr Hogg.” Juliet retorted in cold sarcasm, “Do you think that any low life like you can meet him? He is a millionaire. Why will he meet with a beggar like you?”

If she knew that her highly regarded father wasn't her biological parent, she would probably not be able to accept it. Connor's death was timely. He would never come back to haunt her. It was best to keep this matter a secret forever and never let her know. Juliet had been brought to justice and faced jail. As Juliet hadn't told her that night, there was no need to mention it in the future. It was easy to dismiss Andy. He wouldn't dare offend Henry. Only Hannah was left. Back home, Gabriella wanted to go to the third floor. There was a utility room there, which stored things that weren't commonly used.

Juliet chuckled darkly. "You took what is rightfully mine and made me like this Juliet, I bet you one day the truth shall be exposed and I shall take back what you stole from me," Vivian assured her. "And like I told you, there is nothing, I mean no one who would revise my spell I placed on you. I like the seat I am sitting in right now. My husband doesn't remember you again. In fact I made sure he doesn't even mention your name. You are old and will soon die. Don't worry I will make sure he attends your funeral and we will shed a few tears for you," Juliet taunted her and smiled in satisfaction when she heard the whimper coming from her sister. She knew her words had cut right deep into her