Chapter 1Erased

My fingers clawed desperately at the car door as he drove off, dragging me over ten meters across the pavement.

Watching the exhaust fumes fade into the distance, my heart turned to ashes.

I thought I would die on that frozen mountain, but fate intervened—a passing stranger saved me and, in doing so, restored eight years of lost memories.

The first thing I did upon waking was erase my current identity.

* * *

"Ma'am, are you certain? Once the identity of 'Jenna Hayden' is legally dissolved, that person will, for all intents and purposes, cease to exist."

I nodded, my voice steady. "I'm certain."

My name was never Jenna, anyway. I am Elara Vaughn.

Eight years ago, a plane crash stole my memories and left me stranded in Port Sterling. The Hayden family took me in, and eventually, I became their daughter-in-law.

George and I... we were in love once. The golden couple, the one everyone in our circle envied.

That all changed two years ago, when she came back.

I glanced up at the massive screen dominating the city's central square. It was broadcasting the final moments of the national piano championship. Unsurprisingly, with me out of the way, Lila Sinclair had clinched first place.

In the post-win interview, George was beaming, his smile radiating a warmth I hadn't seen directed at me in years. "Lila has always been number one in my heart. No one can touch her talent. As her agent, I couldn't be prouder."

"Oh?" the host chimed in, a little flustered. "My apologies, I just assumed the number one spot in your heart belonged to your wife."

George let out a smooth laugh. "When it comes to my heart, of course, Jenna is my number one. But when it comes to pure talent? That has always been Lila."

Hearing that, a bitter, ironic smile touched my lips. I turned away and dialed a number.

"Pierce. I need a pickup in Port Sterling. Seven days."

Leaving the noise of the city square behind me, I slipped into a tattoo parlor on a quiet side street.

"Hey, looking for some ink? What did you have in mind?" the artist asked, gesturing to a chair.

"I need something removed," I said, pointing to my chest, just over my heart. "This name."

He leaned in. "G-E-O? Those letters must have meant something special."

I looked down, a sad, hollow laugh escaping me. "They used to."

Four hours later, I walked back into our house carrying a small, custom-ordered cake.

George was already home, lounging on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. He looked up as I entered. "What's the occasion? You bought me a cake?"

The last embers of warmth in my heart flickered and died.

It was my birthday.

"It's nothing important," I said, my voice flat. "Just felt like it."

"Perfect timing," he said, tossing his phone aside. The mention of Lila brought an unconscious, genuine smile to his face. "Lila won today. We're having a celebration dinner later. I'll take this along."

I was silent for a moment, then just nodded.

I went to our room to change. George followed me in. "Elara, you should come to the party. You were the five-time champion before her. It would be good for you to show your support."

As he spoke, his eyes caught on something. "What happened to your chest? Why is it bandaged?"