Chapter 1

My biological parents and my fiancé shove me into a sterile room for a forced drug trial. The chemicals completely destroy my cranial nerves.

They lie about my adopted sister Mia having a terminal illness, using my college admission and trust fund as leverage to make me sacrifice myself.

I used to put my life on the line for Liam, staying up all night to finish his homework, draining everything I had to please my family.

But they are putting on an act from the very beginning. Mia isn't sick. The drug trial is just a front for money laundering.

Stripped of all love, hate, and empathy, I am left with only cold logic after enduring imprisonment, beatings, and endless injections.

Afterward, Liam falls to his knees, sobbing and begging to get back together. I dodge his touch with a blank face.

"Don't come near me. The smell of you makes me physically sick."

...

"You either sign this NDA, or I call the family lawyer right now to freeze your trust fund and pull that Ivy League recommendation letter."

Inside the underground private clinic, my mother towers over me, slamming a thick stack of non-disclosure agreements onto the desk.

"We can't delay treatment for Mia's rare neurological disorder any longer. Even if this targeted drug isn't FDA-approved yet, it's her only hope. You're her sister. Your genetic sequence is the closest match. If you don't test the drug, who will?"

My stomach spasms violently. Acid rushes up my throat.

I stare hard at my perfectly respectable parents, my eyes burning and aching.

I am their biological daughter, yet ever since they adopted Mia, the girl who is supposedly as fragile as porcelain, I have become nothing more than a stepping stone in this family.

"This drug has zero clinical data backing it. What if it damages my nervous system?" I grit my teeth, my voice trembling uncontrollably.

"Chloe, stop being so selfish, okay?"

A warm hand suddenly grips my shoulder hard.

It's Liam.

My first love of three years, the star quarterback of our elite prep school, the proud heir to an Ivy League dynasty.

He steps around to face me. Those vivid blue eyes I used to obsess over are now brimming with pleading and blame.

"Mia is in agony every single day, and all you have to do is lie in a sterile room and sleep for a few hours. Just do it for me, alright?" Liam drops to one knee. He cups my freezing fingers in his hands and presses them against his warm cheek. "Prove you love me, Chloe. As soon as Mia gets better, we'll get engaged next month. I'll make you the most envied fiancée in the country."

I look at Liam. I look at the boy I cheered for in the bleachers countless times, the boy I stayed up all night writing AP essays for.

He is weaponizing love against me again.

He knows exactly how desperate I am to be accepted by this circle, by this family. He knows I can't resist him when he softens his tone.

"What if something happens to me?" My voice is so hoarse it doesn't even sound like my own.

"We have the best medical emergency team waiting right outside. What could possibly happen? Stop wasting time," my father snaps impatiently.

Liam shoves a pen into my hand, his gaze affectionate yet forceful. "Just sign it. Once you do, everything will be fine."

I close my burning eyes.

Under the threat of losing my trust fund and my academic future, and swayed by my first love's begging, I sign my name on the potentially fatal agreement with a shaking hand.

Ten minutes later, they wheel me into a freezing sterile room.

Cold liquid is shoved violently into my veins through an IV.

At first, it's just a slight numbness. But seconds later, everything goes wrong.

"Ah!"

My back arches violently, the leather restraints instantly cutting into my wrists. A blinding pain shoots straight up my spine into my skull.

My vision fractures into wild double images.

The monitors let out high-pitched alarms, but I can no longer hear anyone shouting.

Amidst severe organic brain damage, my hippocampus is undergoing physical destruction.

The memories I treasure most are like old film reels catching fire, sizzling in my mind and rapidly turning to ash.

Liam holding me and kissing me, dripping with sweat after a game.

Burned.

The rare scrap of praise my parents tossed me at Thanksgiving dinner.

Burned.

The grievance and desperation I felt practicing alone in the piano room late at night until my fingers bled, all just to please them.

Burned.

All the pain, the resentment, the pathetic begging for love. The emotional tethers that used to sting my nerves are being completely severed by a cold surgical knife as my prefrontal cortex mutates.

The pain slowly fades.

Replacing it is an unprecedented, absolute sense of emptiness and clarity.

...

Three days later. The New England streets are blindingly sunny.

I hold an iced Americano, looking down to check the newly restored Swiss bank statements on my phone. My brain feels like a high-end computer that just had its operating system reinstalled. It runs incredibly fast, with absolutely zero background cache.

"Chloe!"

Rushed footsteps sound behind me.

I turn around.

A tall, blond guy is sprinting toward me, panting heavily.

He rushes right up to my face and throws his arms out to pull me into a tight hug.

I step back half a pace, dodging his touch.

The guy misses, stumbling a bit. He stares at his empty hands in disbelief.

"Chloe. Thank God, you're finally out of the clinic! Do you have any idea how crazy I've been these past few days? Your parents hid you away, and I couldn't find you anywhere!" His voice shakes.

I study him with a blank expression.

The lingering scent of some woman's perfume is on his jacket.

Liam.

My fiancé. The accomplice who forced me onto the operating table.

"Chloe, what's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?" Liam steps forward in a panic, leaning down to try and kiss my lips. "Do you know how much I missed you?"

I raise my hand to block his advance.

"Sorry." I frown slightly. "I'm not in the habit of exchanging bodily fluids with strangers carrying potential infectious pathogens."

Liam freezes completely.

His pupils dilate violently, his face full of shock.

"What are you talking about? It's me, Liam! Your Liam!" He raises his voice. "Stop scaring me, Chloe. What exactly happened to you?!"

He is way too loud.

"I'm perfectly fine. It's just a complication of emotional detachment caused by damage to my prefrontal cortex and hippocampus." I state the objective facts without a single ripple of emotion, stepping around him and walking forward without looking back.

"By the way, your tears are incredibly cheap. Excuse me."