Faked Amnesia 8

 

Chapter 8 

Chapter 8 

Before leaving. I messaged my landlord about ending my lease early. When he asked why, I gave some vague reason about relocating. 

“Actually, why don’t you stay until month’s end?” he suggested. “I’ll waive the penalty fee.” 

I paused, fingers hovering over my phone. Too convenient. Miller must have gotten to him. 

“Sure,” I typed back. “Thanks.” 

Let him think I had no idea. 

Two days before my planned departure, my phone lit up with an unknown number. 

“Miss Higgins? This is Janet from Silver Moon Manor.” The woman’s voice was bright, professional. “Alpha Miller reserved our ceremonial hall for the thirtieth. We’re trying to confirm the guest count, but he’s not returning our calls. Could you help coordinate?” 

My chest tightened. Silver Moon Manor-the lakeside venue where Miller had proposed five years ago, where we’d planned to hold our mating 

ceremony. 

“The thirtieth?” I kept my voice steady. 

“Yes, end of month. He booked the sunset package.” 

The same day Miller planned his “memory recovery” performance. 

“I’ll pass along the message,” I said. 

After hanging up, I stared at my phone. So that was his finale. Fake remembering me at the place where it all began. The perfect romantic setup. 

The next notification made me smile-my name-change application had been approved. The new documents would let me disappear completely. New name, new social security number, new everything. Miller could search every database in the country and never find a trace. 

Evening was falling when I got back to the villa. Rain clouds gathered overhead, turning everything gray and heavy. I was pulling groceries from my trunk when Miller appeared at my door. 

“Where have you been?” 

I didn’t look up. “Grocery shopping.” 

“All day?” 

“Had errands.” I locked my car, bags in hand. “Did you need something?” 

He shifted his weight, hands in his pockets. “Weather report says there’s a storm coming tomorrow. You should probably stay in.” 

I almost laughed. A storm. Really? That was his excuse to keep me around? 

“Noted.” 

Something flickered across his face-confusion, maybe frustration. I’d been distant for weeks now, my scent different somehow, though he couldn’t place why. 

He lingered another moment, then left. 

The day of my departure, I woke at dawn. My flight left at two. I moved through the villa methodically, packing what I needed, abandoning everything else. Five years of life reduced to two suitcases. 

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My Alpha Faked Amnesia to Reject Me. Joke’s On Him-I’m the Queen Now 

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Chapter 8 

At eleven sharp, someone knocked. 

Two of Miller’s pack brothers stood on my doorstep, wearing matching sympathetic expressions. 

“Luna Isla.” The taller one, Derek, smiled gently. “We know these months have been rough. But Miller’s getting better. His memories are coming back.” 

“Yeah,” the other added: “Today’s actually the anniversary of when you two got together. We’ve planned something special.” 

I kept my face neutral. “What kind of special?” 

Derek checked his phone, frowned. “Ah, something came up at the pack house. Emergency. We need to handle it first, but we’ll be back at sunset to pick you up.” 

“Pick me up for what?” 

“Miller reserved Silver Moon Manor. The whole ceremonial hall.” Derek’s smile widened. “He wants you there. Says being at that place might help him remember everything.” 

There it was. His stage, set and ready. 

“I’ll be ready,” I said. 

They drove off. I watched until their tail lights disappeared around the corner. 

Ten minutes later, my real ride pulled up-a sleek black sedan I’d hired through a private service, 

I wheeled my suitcases down the path. That’s when I heard it-voices from Miller’s car parked in his driveway, windows cracked despite the rain. 

Mora’s laugh carried across the space between our villas. “Weren’t you supposed to be recovering your memories today? Getting your mate back? You’re running out of time…”.. 

“How can I leave when you’re right here?” Miller’s voice, low and intimate. “We have until sunset…” 

The car started rocking, subtle but unmistakable. 

I stood frozen, suitcase handle digging into my palm. 

“Miss Higgins?”The driver’s voice pulled me back. 

I wiped away a single tear-my last one for Miller Miller. 

As I opened the car door, Miller’s tinted window lowered slightly behind me. Through the rain, his confused expression searched for the source of the sound. Mora’s voice drifted out, dismissive: “You must have imagined it.” 

I slid into the back seat and pulled out my old pack ID. The laminated card felt flimsy between my fingers as I snapped it cleanly in half. 

I looked up at the driver. 

“The airport, please.” 

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My Alpha Faked Amnesia to Reject Me. Joke’s On Him-I’m the Queen Now 

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