I Faked Amnesia to Destroy My Sister’s Stolen Wedding

I awoke to the gentle sound of waves crashing against the shore, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar ceiling above me. The events of yesterday crashed back into my consciousness—the accident, the hospital, and the devastating revelation of Ryan and Victoria's betrayal. My chest tightened as I remembered the look of relief on Ryan's face when I pretended not to recognize him. Not concern, not love—just pure, unbridled relief.

The morning sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Nathaniel Sterling's guest room, illuminating the space with a soft golden glow. I sat up slowly, my head still throbbing slightly from the concussion. The tray from last night's dinner had been cleared away, leaving only a glass of water and two small pills on the bedside table, alongside a handwritten note: 'For the pain. Take with food. —N.'

I swallowed the pills and made my way downstairs, drawn by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. The house was silent except for the distant sound of waves and the occasional call of seagulls. Nathaniel was nowhere to be seen, but a plate of croissants and fruit had been left on the kitchen island, covered with a glass dome to keep them fresh.

With coffee in hand, I began to explore the main floor of Nathaniel's home. The space was immaculate—minimalist but warm, with natural materials and ocean views from nearly every room. The living room featured a wall of bookshelves filled with first editions and art books, a baby grand piano in the corner, and several comfortable-looking leather chairs.

My fingers trailed along the spines of books as I moved around the room, taking in the details of this stranger who had inexplicably become my caretaker. On a side table near one of the chairs, a collection of framed photographs caught my eye. Most were landscapes or architectural shots, presumably from Nathaniel's travels. But one photo made me freeze mid-step, nearly spilling my coffee.

It was a picture of Nathaniel sitting on a bench in what looked like a garden, his head thrown back in laughter. Beside him, also laughing, was my grandmother Margaret. They looked comfortable together, familiar—like old friends sharing a private joke. My fingers brushed across the glass, tracing the outline of my grandmother's face. What connection could Nathaniel possibly have with her? And why had neither of them ever mentioned knowing each other?

The sound of a door closing somewhere in the house startled me. I quickly moved away from the photographs, not wanting to be caught snooping. But my mind was racing with questions. Why would Nathaniel agree to take in a woman he barely knew? What was his relationship with my grandmother? Was he truly just Ryan's friend doing a favor, or was there something more to his involvement?

With Nathaniel still absent, I found myself drawn to his home office, a sleek space with a view of the ocean. His laptop sat on the desk, closed but not locked. My fingers hovered over it, hesitating. This was an invasion of privacy, but I needed answers. I needed to understand what was happening around me.

I opened the laptop, relieved when it didn't require a password. The browser was still open to Instagram. I was about to close it when a familiar face caught my eye—Victoria's. I clicked on the photo, my heart sinking as the image expanded.

There they were—Ryan and Victoria, standing on a terrace overlooking rows of grapevines, the sunset casting them in a romantic glow. They were clinking crystal glasses of champagne, their faces alight with happiness. The caption read: 'To new beginnings and true love. #NapaValley #engagement #finally'

The timestamp showed the photo had been posted yesterday—while I was unconscious in the hospital. They hadn't even waited for me to wake up before celebrating their 'true love.'

A wave of nausea washed over me, followed by a surge of rage so intense it made my hands shake. I scrolled through more photos—Ryan and Victoria at dinner, walking through vineyards, posing in front of a luxury resort. Each image was like a knife twisting in my chest.

'I see you found them.'

I whirled around to find Nathaniel standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. I braced myself for anger at my intrusion, but instead, he simply walked over and looked at the screen.

'I need to go back,' I said, my voice trembling with fury. 'I need to confront them. They think I've lost my memory, but I remember everything. Every lie, every betrayal.'

Nathaniel's hand came to rest on my shoulder, surprisingly gentle. 'Not yet,' he said quietly. 'You're still recovering, and rushing in without a plan will only give them the upper hand.'

Before I could argue, he picked up his phone and dialed a number. 'Hello, is this the manager at Bellevue Estate? This is Nathaniel Sterling. I'm calling about an unauthorized use of wedding vendors contracted exclusively for the Mitchell-Chen wedding...' He paused, his eyes meeting mine. 'Yes, that's right. It seems Mr. Mitchell and Miss Victoria Chen have been using services paid for by Isabella Chen without authorization while she's been hospitalized.'

As he continued the conversation, methodically dismantling Ryan and Victoria's celebration, I realized that perhaps I wasn't as alone in this fight as I had thought. Nathaniel Sterling was proving to be much more than just my fake boyfriend—he was becoming my most unexpected ally.