Chapter 3 · Tomorrow, I Won't Know You

I entered my private passcode into the prompt.

The screen blinked, and the locked file loaded instantly.

The woman on this recording looked completely different from the broken, pleading figure in the cache. My dark hair was pulled back into a sleek bun, my shoulders were squared, and my gaze was sharp, steady, and chillingly detached.

"Hi, Maeve," the recording began. My tone was steady, devoid of any warmth or fear. "If you are watching this file, Conrad has humiliated you again. Probably in front of a crowd. Probably with Clara standing right beside him."

I leaned in closer, listening intently to my own voice from nine months ago.

"Let me give you the raw truth that your resetting memory keeps erasing," past me said, looking dead into the camera lens. "Those 365 videos were never proof of your weakness. They were 365 chances you gave him to be a decent human being."

The woman on screen lifted a plain black notebook into view.

"Every single lie, every condescending sneer, every time he used your medical condition to make you feel small and helpless -- it is all documented here. If he crossed the final line tonight, do not scream. Do not waste a single breath demanding an explanation. Pack your essential documents and leave before the morning sun comes up."

A violent bang suddenly shuddered against the penthouse front door.

The heavy lock rattled loudly, followed by Clara's high-pitched laugh and Conrad's slurred, impatient voice echoing through the foyer.

"Maeve! Open the damn door!" Conrad hammered his heavy fist against the mahogany wood. "Stop acting like a dramatic child. Clara left her designer scarf in the coat closet, and I want my bottle of whiskey."

I did not flinch. I did not rush down the hallway to plead, cry, or argue.

I rose smoothly from the counter, walked to the front door, and slid the heavy brass security deadbolt into place.

"Maeve!" Conrad kicked the bottom of the door, his tone turning venomous. "I know you are standing right there! Tomorrow morning you will not even remember why you are angry! So drop the pathetic act and unlock this door right now!"

I stood in absolute silence on my side of the wood.

For the first time in three years, I offered him no tears, no apologies, and no reply.

I ejected the memory chip from the tablet, slipped it securely into my coat pocket, and turned toward the bedroom.

A sudden, sharp wave of neurological fatigue crashed over my skull like freezing water. The edges of my vision began to blur.

My condition was resetting my neural pathways. Within six hours, every trace of Conrad, his cruelty, and his voice would be completely wiped from my conscious mind.

Chapter 3

I entered my private passcode into the prompt.

The screen blinked, and the locked file loaded instantly.

I leaned in closer, listening intently to my own voice from nine months ago.

The woman on screen lifted a plain black notebook into view.

A violent bang suddenly shuddered against the penthouse front door.

The heavy lock rattled loudly, followed by Clara's high-pitched laugh and Conrad's slurred, impatient voice echoing through the foyer.

I did not flinch. I did not rush down the hallway to plead, cry, or argue.

I rose smoothly from the counter, walked to the front door, and slid the heavy brass security deadbolt into place.

I stood in absolute silence on my side of the wood.

For the first time in three years, I offered him no tears, no apologies, and no reply.

I ejected the memory chip from the tablet, slipped it securely into my coat pocket, and turned toward the bedroom.

A sudden, sharp wave of neurological fatigue crashed over my skull like freezing water. The edges of my vision began to blur.

My condition was resetting my neural pathways. Within six hours, every trace of Conrad, his cruelty, and his voice would be completely wiped from my conscious mind.