I saved a billionaire with no memories only to be betrayed

With trembling fingers, I wrapped the bandage around my leg, layer by layer, until the pain dulled to a heavy throb.

And when it was done, I stared at myself in the mirror—the necklace still glinting mockingly at my throat, my eyes swollen from tears, my leg covered in white cloth like a wound I could never hide.

That was when I knew. I couldn’t stay here anymore.

So I stood, ignoring the ache in my body, and went straight to the wardrobe. I didn’t cry. I simply pulled out the suitcases and began to pack. Then I gathered the rest—the letters, the photographs, the tiny tokens of a love I once thought would last forever—and threw them into a pile.

This time, I didn’t put them in a box. I set them on fire.

The flames devoured everything in seconds, curling paper into ash, melting ink into nothing.

I was done. But as I lifted my luggage, ready to leave, the front door slammed open.

Jackson stood there, eyes widening at the sight of the blackened pile, the suitcases lined up like soldiers at my feet. “What the hell is this?” His voice thundered through the penthouse. “Why did you throw our things? What are those boxes? And what’s with the smoke? Did you burn something?”

I met his gaze, my voice steady. “Charity.”

He stepped forward, frowning. “And the luggage? Where are you going?”

I forced a small smile. “On a trip.”

“Trip?” His voice rose in disbelief. “We’re getting married soon and you still want to go on a trip? You didn’t even tell me! Was this because of what happened earlier? Cassandra—I said I’m sorry, okay?”

I laughed bitterly under my breath. Sorry. Always sorry.

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing. “I was just stressed. You know her family is helping me. I couldn’t let her be embarrassed like that, because if she is, the merger falls through. Don’t you understand? This is for us. I’m doing this for us.”

I looked down, my eyes fixed on his legs—the same ones that had stood in front of me, begging, promising when he was nothing but a man with empty pockets.

Now those same legs had walked me into hell.

“Please,” he said, softer this time. He reached for my hands. “I promise—once this merger is done, once everything is settled, I’ll focus on you. Just… give me this. This is for us.”

I couldn’t answer. My chest was too heavy to form words.

And then his eyes flickered downward. “Where’s your ring?”

I froze.

“I removed it,” I said quietly. “I don’t… like the feeling anymore.”

For a moment, something unreadable flashed across his face. Then he sighed and pulled me into a half-hearted embrace. “Don’t worry. We’ll go to the auction tomorrow. You can pick whatever you like. I’ll buy you something better. Anything you want.”

I nodded, forcing my face blank. Just a few more days, I told myself.

That same night, I checked my bank account. A new deposit. Twenty million dollars.

From Nathalia. The deal was sealed.

The next morning, I stepped outside, only to freeze at the sight of Ivy already sitting in the passenger seat of Jackson’s car.

“Oh, sorry,” she said sweetly. “Jackson’s mother insisted I come to the auction. She thought I’d be more… fitting to accompany Jackson. I mean, what you know, right? It’ll be your first time.”

Jackson glanced back at me in the rearview mirror. “It’s for business again. Just let it go.”

So I sat quietly in the back seat, staring out the window, remembering the days when Jackson used to talk about buying us a small car. “For our road trips,” he had said, eyes shining with hope. “We’ll drive anywhere you want, Cassandra. Just you and me.”

That dream was gone now, replaced by tinted windows and the bitter laughter of another woman in the front seat.

At the auction, the cameras flashed like lightning. Jackson and Ivy posed effortlessly, their smiles polished, their chemistry undeniable. The media called them perfect, their names whispered like royalty.

And me? I was shoved to the background. A shadow. A wallflower no one cared to notice.

When someone dared to ask who I was, Jackson corrected them smoothly. “A friend. Nothing more.”

The words sliced through me sharper than any knife.

At the table, I sat silently while Ivy leaned close to whisper, “See? You don’t belong here. You never did.”

I wanted to scream. To cry. To leave. But I sat there, gripping the hem of my dress until my nails left marks in my skin.

Finally, I stood, deciding to go home and let the charade continue without me. But as I turned, something caught my eye.

A golden locket.

It lay glinting on a velvet display, familiar as the lines of my own hands. My breath caught.

It was like my grandmother’s locket—the one I had sold years ago, desperate to pay for Jackson’s hospital bills after the accident. Our family had once been wealthy, but that locket was the last remnant of our legacy. And when I parted with it, Jackson had taken my hand and sworn, “Someday, Cassandra, when I can afford it, I’ll buy it back for you. I promise.”

And now, here it was.

My throat closed as I stepped closer.

I reached out, just to touch it, to make sure it was truly the same one.

The moment my fingers brushed the gold, a woman beside the display shrieked. “You thief!” She shoved me hard, her voice echoing through the hall. “You’re stealing! She’s a stealer!”