Chapter 1

"Look at her pathetic little diary," Conrad announced into the microphone, his voice echoing across the chandelier-lit ballroom.

On the massive projector screen behind the stage, my face appeared in sharp high definition. Pale. Exhausted. Looking straight into my camera lens.

"Day 142. Conrad forgot our anniversary dinner again tonight. He works so hard for our future, and I know how much pressure he is under. I just have to learn to be more understanding."

A ripple of muffled laughter swept through the eighty guests seated at the candlelit banquet tables.

Clara sat right beside Conrad at the head table, resting a manicured hand casually over his forearm, sipping vintage champagne with a soft, pitying smirk on her lips.

Conrad swiped across his tablet, relishing the room's undivided attention. Another video popped up on the display.

"Day 218. Found red lipstick on his collar when he came home at dawn. He told me it was just an accidental brush against a client at the gala. Forgive him tomorrow. Choose to trust him."

The laughter in the ballroom grew louder. Conrad's wealthy circle exchanged amused, condescending smirks.

"She records one of these every single morning because her memory resets overnight," Conrad mocked, shaking his head with theatrical disgust. "A full year of documented guilt trips. She uses her brain trauma as a weapon to keep me trapped in this relationship."

Every eye in the room turned toward the back wall.

They were all waiting for me to shatter into pieces. They expected me to sob, to rush the stage, or to beg him on my knees to turn the projector off.

I stood beneath the arched doorway, wearing the emerald silk dress Conrad had picked out for me. My back remained perfectly straight. My hands did not tremble. Not a single muscle in my face twitched.

"Since you love manufacturing drama so much, darling," Conrad sneered, holding the tablet up for the room to see, "let us see how well you survive without your little crutch."

His thumb pressed the red icon on the screen.

Batch Deletion: 365 video logs selected.

Confirm Delete.

Deleting... 100%.

All files permanently removed from local storage.

One entire year of my recorded existence vanished into nothing in three seconds.

The room fell dead silent. Clara leaned forward in her seat, eyes bright with cruel anticipation, waiting for my breakdown.

I did not scream. I did not shed a single tear.

I set my untouched champagne flute down on a passing waiter's silver tray with a gentle, steady click.

Then, I took two deliberate steps forward and looked directly into Conrad's smug eyes.

"Tomorrow," I said, my voice chillingly calm, "I won't know you anymore."

Conrad burst into arrogant laughter, tossing the tablet onto the white linen table.

"Is that your new threat, Maeve? You threaten to leave every other month, and you still wake up running straight back to my bed."

He turned his back on me, raising his crystal glass to toast the cheering room. The guests joined in, chuckling at what they assumed was an empty, desperate bluff.

Conrad had no idea.

I was not making an emotional threat.

I was stating an irreversible neurological fact.