Some things are best left forgotten.
Scarlet Pierce has it all—an impressive home, a successful business and an intimidatingly handsome husband who adores her. It’s the kind of life most people only dream of. There’s just one problem―she doesn’t remember any of it.
When a horrific car accident claims her twenty-eight years of memories, Scarlet is thrust into a world of self-discovery and terrifying nightmares that she soon learns are echoes of the past.
Her life is turned upside down once again when she’s introduced to the man who saved her from the near-fatal crash, the strong, silent Mitch. The two share an instant connection but when Scarlet begins to have memories of him, she realizes there’s more to him―and them than meets the eye.
As she starts to recover her memories and uncover the shocking truth, Scarlet discovers that some things are best left forgotten.
“Hello, wife,” a seductive voice echoes in the bedroom behind me as I sit staring at my reflection in the dressing table mirror.
“Hello, husband,” I reply, grinning at the impossibly handsome man reflected in the glass. He leans casually against the door, tightening his cufflink, his dark-gray suit accentuating his steely dark-blue eyes and dark, tousled locks that turn up at the ends.
“You look beautiful, as always.”
I roll my eyes as Nick closes the gap between us. “Stop saying that.”
He leans in behind me, regarding our reflections in the mirror.
“Never,” he replies, curling the corners of his lips in an innocent, childlike way. “Are you nearly ready? Our guests are starting to arrive.” He leans in close to my ear, sensing my anxiety. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right by your side.”
I turn around to look at him and there, in the lines of his face, in the warmth of his eyes, I find in him the courage I haven’t been able to find in myself to make the journey downstairs.
Nick holds out his hand to me. “Shall we?”
I put mine in his and he summons me into his arms, his eyes soft and heady.
“I love you, Mrs. Pierce,” he whispers, lowering his lips to mine.
I freeze, unable to respond. I’m not exactly sure how I feel about my husband, Nick. I married him, so I must love him, right?
Truth is, I really don’t know. I really don’t know anything since the accident.
As we start down the stairs, the sound of wine-induced laughter and chitchat grows louder, grating my already fraying nerves. I reach out, taking a firm hold of the balustrade. Nick turns to look at me.
“It’s okay—it’s only close friends and family, and they’re all here for you. To reconnect with you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
I arch an eyebrow.
“Besides, you’ve met them all before,” he jokes.
“That’s not funny.”
“Really? Not even a little bit?”
“Not at all.”
“Come on.” He takes a step forward and tugs at my hand.
I drift forward, but I still can’t let go of the balustrade. He turns back to me, amused.
“Let go.”
I nod at him, without any intention of complying.
“Let go, then,” he coaxes, tugging me away from the balustrade and tucking me under his arm so I can’t do it again. “You know, if memory serves me, I can’t recall ever seeing you this nervous.”
I glare up at him. “At least someone’s memory’s serving them.”
“I see you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”
My lips twitch, fighting a smile, his sarcasm producing the desired effect, but it doesn’t last long.
I know it’s only close friends and family gathering here to see me, but for all intents and purposes, it’s a room full of strangers.
People I have no memory of.
It’s been six months since the car accident that claimed my memories. Memories of who I was and the twenty-eight years of life I’d lived, replaced by nothing. A void of emptiness and darkness.
My very first memory—waking up in a hospital room, lying damaged and broken, surrounded by people I didn’t know and have only now begun to accept. I watched while they rejoiced for a life saved—a life I didn’t even know existed—listening as they told me how I’d lost control of my car. How it had spun off the road into icy-cold waters and how a man had rescued me and swum me to safety, risking his life to save mine. I didn’t remember it.
Not a single thing.
Julianna Zacleese is an author and songwriter from the small country town of Childers in Queensland, Australia. Her love of literature and writing began at an early age and developed into a deep-seated passion for all things written.
While her decade-long career with the Police Service inspires the suspense element in her writing, it was her love of writing media releases and freelance articles for the local newspaper that led to her return to writing and success as a published author.
An entrant in the 2016 Cannes Screenplay Contest and 2017 Page International Screenwriting Awards, Julianna one day aspires to write for the big screen.
