Chapter 1

Elspeth's POV

The man on the other side of the frosted glass paid a hundred million dollars for my amnesia serum. I warned him there was no antidote. He laughed.

“If I can buy the poison,” he said, “I can buy the cure.”

He didn’t recognize my voice. Why would he? In five years of marriage, Rhett Calloway never once asked what I did before I became his wife.

Days later, he divorced me and pressed that same vial into my palm.

His savior is dying, and he wants to give her the wedding of her dreams—with no first wife in the way. So he made me a promise: drink it, forget him for three days, then take the antidote and come home. We’d remarry like nothing ever happened.

I created that serum. I know exactly what it does. It doesn’t steal your memories all at once; it eats them slowly, until the person you love most is simply gone.

I swallowed every drop.

After that, I won’t remember his name.

But he’ll never forget mine.

——

Rhett Calloway had always been good at playing the devoted husband.

The day the doctors gave Celia Hale—the girl who’d saved his life when he was seventeen—a few weeks to live, he divorced me. Judge Halloran owed the Calloways too many favors to make us wait, so it took one afternoon. An hour later, on the courthouse steps, Rhett pressed a glass vial into my palm. The liquid inside shimmered a pale silver.

"Celia doesn’t have much time," he said. "Give me three days. I want to give her the wedding she’s always dreamed of. This will take your memories for a while, so you won’t have to suffer through it. When it’s over, you take the antidote, you remember everything, and we get remarried."

He said it with the certainty of a man who’d never been told no and had it stick. I’d seen that certainty once before—through frosted glass.

Yesterday, in a dimly lit mahogany vault hidden beneath an exclusive cigar lounge, a frosted partition split our table down the middle—the broker’s strict condition for mutual anonymity.

"Mr. Calloway," I’d told him through the intercom, "I have to warn you. This serum has no antidote."

He’d smirked. "You people talk about ideals, but everybody folds for money, and there’s a hundred million sitting in your account. Everything’s a transaction. If I can buy the poison, I can buy the cure. The Calloway family doesn’t have technical problems—just problems we haven’t paid to make go away yet."

Then he took the vial and walked out.

I made that serum. I knew exactly what it did. It doesn’t erase memory all at once; it eats away at it, piece by piece, until the person you love most is simply gone. And no one has ever synthesized an antidote.

Rhett had no idea.

"Are you sure you won’t regret this?" I asked.

He laughed and smoothed my hair.

"Celia saved my life. This is her last wish. I don’t do regret." He tucked a strand behind my ear. "You’ve always been the reasonable one, Elspeth. Don’t hold a grudge against a dying woman. When this is over, we pick up right where we left off."

Something sour rose in my chest. I didn’t answer.

Years ago, when the Calloways were under siege, I pulled every string and burned every favor I had to help him crush his enemies. He spoiled me relentlessly every single day, and each night he buried his face in my hair, murmuring "Tesoro." Once, half-joking, I asked what he’d do if I ever forgot him.

His eyes went red. He kissed me hard. "I love you, Elspeth. Don’t ever forget me. I’d lose my mind."

Now he was handing me the means to do it, so Celia could have her wedding with no first wife in the picture. If he could throw me away this easily, why promise to remarry me at all?

I pulled the stopper and swallowed it in one go. Ice-cold. Then I laughed, short and bitter.

Pain bloomed behind my eyes. The steps tilted, and I pitched forward.

Rhett caught me by the shoulders, worry sharp in his face. "Hey—what’s wrong?" He nodded at the folder in my hand. "If you’re scared I won’t come back, keep the divorce papers until this is over."

I stared at him. For one dizzy second, I truly didn’t know what he meant.

"Divorce papers?"

He went still. "Elspeth… we just got divorced. You don’t remember?"

Something crossed his face, gone almost before I caught it. Relief.

I looked down. JUDGMENT OF DIVORCE, printed across the top of the page. The serum was already working, taking the newest memories first—and the first to go was the last hour of my marriage.

Rhett slid the folder out of my hands before I could see his signature. "You’ve been sick. You’ve lost some memories," he said gently. "I’m your brother. I’ll keep the paperwork safe for you."

He couldn’t meet my eyes. I didn’t call him on it. If he wanted a show, I’d play my part to the end.

"Rhett! There you are!"

Celia was hurrying across the plaza. Her heel caught on a paving stone, and Rhett shoved me aside to catch her. I slammed into the courthouse’s granite wall, and my aching head rang like a struck bell.

"Thank God you caught me," Celia breathed, flushed in his arms.

Only then did Rhett look back. "Elspeth—are you hurt? Celia has a clotting disorder. If she gets cut, the bleeding won’t stop. I had to get to her first."

I brushed the grit off my coat. "I’m fine."

Celia hooked her arm through his. "What took so long? I’ve been waiting forever."

He cleared his throat when he caught me watching, but he didn’t pull away. "It’s done. We can start planning the wedding."

Celia turned a bright, triumphant smile on me. "Elspeth, your brother and I have been in love for five years. The wedding’s in three days. You have to come."

Your brother. So they’d rehearsed it.

"I wouldn’t miss it," I said.

"Then it’s settled, you’re going to be my bridesmaid! It’s only right that you get to watch me and Rhett share our happily—"

"Celia." Rhett’s voice went flat. "She doesn’t need to be part of it."

Celia’s mouth tightened. A second later, she sagged against him, a hand pressed to her chest. "Rhett… it hurts again. I can’t breathe."

He gathered her up at once. "Hang on. I’m taking you to St. Brigid’s." Over her head, he asked me, "Do you remember how to get home? I can have one of my guys drive you."

"I remember."

I watched him do the math. The serum only took memories tied to the person you loved most; everything else stayed. And the person I loved most was him. His shoulders eased.

"Go on home, then."

He carried Celia to the black car at the curb. She nestled into his neck. "Being held by you out in the open like this... I could die happy right now."

"Don’t talk like that."

Through the window, I watched him buckle her in. She wound her arms around his neck and kissed his earlobe.

It went into me like a blade—cold first, then sharp, then everywhere.

The car pulled away. My phone buzzed: an international number.

"Dr. Voss? This is the Aurora Institute of Pharmacology. Everything is ready for your return. We look forward to welcoming you to Geneva in three days."