I Faked Amnesia Novels & Stories

“Public appearances. Joint statements. Romantic paparazzi moments.” “And then we fake-breakup?” “Eventually. Or maybe not.” I stared at him. “You’re enjoying this.” “I enjoy puzzles,” he said. “And right now, you’re the most interesting one in the room.” He buttoned his cuff again and headed for the door. “Sleep tight, fiancée,” he called over his shoulder. And then he was gone. ______________________________________________________________________ I woke up to thirty-two missed calls, three back-to-back headlines, and a group chat explosion titled “ADELAINE WTF?” — in all caps. Zain’s name also pops up. He had the nerve to still text me.

If he told her the truth, if he gave her back her identity before she was ready, it could destroy what was left of her mind. Or at least that's what I was telling myself. I'd called in Dr. Petrov two days ago. Had him examine Ivy's head injury. Give me a medical opinion I could use. "Traumatic amnesia," Petrov had said while looking at her scans. "Severe. Her brain is compensating for the memory loss by creating false narratives to fill the gaps. It's a defense mechanism." "And if someone challenges those narratives?" "Too aggressively? You could cause permanent psychological damage. The brain is fragile after trauma like this. It needs time to heal naturally."

In three years, our home had no pictures of us, nor did it have anything that could identify the man who was my husband. I was an orphan. Because of my amnesia, I did not have many friends. Of course, they were confident that I would remain clueless. I also continued playing the part. I pretended that I truly did not know a thing. However, for this particular instance, I felt like doing something else. I walked over and initiated a hug, snaking my arms around Seth’s waist. “Honey, although I lost my memories, I could feel an instant connection with you when I first saw you. You’re definitely my husband, there’s no mistaking it.”

I explained, and this time his big brown eyes come to meet mine, offering me a small nod. “Yeah, I guess I get that.” He smiled. “So what else did I do seeing as you seem to have turned me into some serious romantic love-sick fool?” And there we lay for I don’t know how long discussing all the things we could explain with regards to out past together if anybody were to ask us. Some we were able to intermingle the truth of our friendship, others were well and truly imaginary, which we had fun creating. There had been so much laughter, and smiles as we lay side by side chatting about everything under the sun, building this oddly fake relationship we needed to make everyone else believe. Yet, b

They'd just wanted to hurt me enough to land me in the hospital. Then, while I was bedridden, they could quietly hold their wedding. By pretending to have lost my memory, I'd unknowingly played right into their hands. A soft fragrance drifted from behind me. "You saw everything?" My back stiffened instantly. I turned my head slowly, and there Sonia was, watching me knowingly. "You knew that I didn't actually lose my memory?" I asked. Sonia let out a chuckle. "I only suspected as much. So you were really pretending. Now that you know everything, what are you going to do?"

She anonymously funneled it directly to the federal financial crimes unit. It was a surgical strike. Ironclad. Victor was arrested in his office. The Marino holdings froze. Their empire teetered on collapse overnight. In the sterile visiting room, I watched through the glass as Victor aged twenty years in a week. He slammed his hands against the partition, screaming. “Isabella! I’m your father! How could you do this? You’ll pay for this!” I picked up the receiver. A cold, sharp smile touched my lips.

"Where have you been? Why did you leave me? Do you have any idea how hard I've been looking for you?" The corners of my mouth twitched into a faint smile. I looked at him as if he were a total stranger. "I'm sorry, sir. Do I know you?" The color drained from his face, as if he had been slapped in front of the entire crowd. It was exactly what he had done to me—when he faked his amnesia, holding Angela close and declaring that she was his Donna. I didn't give him another look. I simply turned and took the arm of the man beside me.

The floodgates were open, and the truth was going to burn us both to the ground. “That’s why I faked my death,” I confessed, “That’s why I made the world believe I had taken my own life. And that’s why I faked the amnesia when I came back—acting like I couldn’t remember a single detail of who you were. All of it was a beautifully constructed lie. But right now? Seeing the wreckage around us? There is absolutely no point in hiding anything from you anymore.”

"What's with the tone, Damian? Calvin was kind enough to pack up your things for you, but instead of thanking him, you're getting all sarcastic?" Calvin's eyes turned red with tears, and he ducked behind Dad like a wounded child. Seeing this, Anna snarled at me, "You meanie! Don't you dare pick on my dad! Get out of our house!" At that moment, I couldn't help but laugh. My heart shattered, and I couldn't stop shaking. Yvonne had stayed silent up until that moment. She fixed her depthless eyes on me and bit out, "You faked your memory loss, didn't you, Damian?"

"I'm sorry, but I think you've got the wrong person. I'm really not your dad. I just graduated." She shook her head. "You're my dad. You look exactly like him." I asked, "Are you sure you haven't mixed me up with someone else? If we look so alike, do you have a photo of him?" She nodded, then seemed to remember something and shook her head. She cried even harder. "I don't have any photos of him. Not a single one." After Amelia regained consciousness, I asked her the same question. She looked confused, scrolled through her phone, and found not a single photo of me. Still, she insisted, "But you're Matthew."