The Amnesia Glitch Chapter 1

The third year of my mission to win over Caleb Sterling, the city’s most untouchable heir, and I lost my memory.

My mind reset to three years ago, stuck in the middle of the silent treatment with my ex-boyfriend.

So, with Caleb watching my every move, I dialed my ex's number.

“Baby, don’t be mad anymore,” I cooed into the phone. “I’ll wear that new dress for you, okay?”

The next second, the ever-arrogant Caleb Sterling crushed his glass in his bare hand.

“Chloe,” he snarled through gritted teeth, “I dare you to say that again.”

“What the hell am I to you, then? A ghost?”

* * *

"Chloe, how long are you going to keep this up?"

"I already told you, there's nothing between us."

"We grew up together. We haven't seen each other in years. What's the big deal about a little kiss?"

I woke up in a hospital bed to the sight of a stranger in a tailored suit raking a hand through his perfectly styled hair. He was handsome, but his frustration was a storm cloud in the sterile room.

When I didn't respond, he pulled a watch from his wrist—a heavy, platinum thing glittering with diamonds—and tossed it onto the bedside table.

"Take this. And I'll throw in a condo downtown. Is that enough for you?"

My head throbbed. I picked up the watch, the weight of it cool and solid in my palm, and struggled to focus on the ridiculously ornate face.

He let out a short, humorless laugh, sinking into the chair beside my bed. He reached out and stroked my hair like I was a stray cat he’d decided to humor. "That's more like it," he murmured. "Running out into traffic, getting yourself hurt… was it really worth all this drama?" He tilted his head. "Pack your things. I'll take you home."

I’ll admit, with his sharp jawline and intense, dark eyes, he was movie-star handsome in a reckless, arrogant way. Unfortunately for him, he was also an asshole, which was a total deal-breaker.

I pulled away from his touch and held the watch out to him.

"It's five-thirty," I said, my voice raspy. "My boyfriend gets off work soon. Thanks, but I don't need a ride."

I thought I’d made myself clear, but the man’s face instantly darkened. He narrowed his eyes, a dangerous glint in their depths.

"Chloe. What the hell did you just say?" His voice was low, menacing. "Which boyfriend gets off work soon?"

Which boyfriend? I’d been with Leo for three years. There was no one else.

Before I could form a response, the man shoved a phone into my hand, his grip tight.

"Call him," he seethed. "Call him right now. I want to see exactly who's coming to pick you up."

Tears of frustration pricked my eyes. A car accident and a concussion were bad enough without having to deal with a certified lunatic. He sprawled on the sofa opposite me, legs spread, watching my every move. Under his burning gaze, I found Leo’s name in my contacts and took a deep breath, moving him out of my blocked list.

Thinking back, Leo and I rarely fought. He could be a little old-fashioned, that was all. The last time we’d been on the outs was because he thought the dress I’d bought was a little too short, and he’d lectured me about it for days. It was silly, but it was our brand of silly.

The phone rang twice in the quiet room before he picked up. His voice, warm and familiar, was laced with hesitation.

"Chloe? Is that you?"

"Yeah," I breathed out. It was all I could manage.

On the other end, it was like a dam had broken. "They said you were in an accident. Are you okay? Is it serious?" he asked in a rush. "Which hospital are you at? I'm on my way."

With every frantic question he asked, the man across from me grew visibly angrier, his jaw clenching.

I quickly gave Leo the address, my voice softening as I added, "Baby, I'll wear that new dress for you tomorrow, okay? The one you like."

The words were barely out of my mouth when a violent crash echoed through the room.

I whipped my head around. The stranger had crushed the water glass he was holding in his bare hand.

Blood mingled with shards of glass, dripping onto the pristine floor at his feet. He didn't seem to feel it. His teeth were gritted, his voice a guttural growl.

"Chloe, I dare you to say that again."

"What the hell am I to you, then? A ghost?"

A nurse, drawn by the noise, burst in and froze, her eyes wide with shock. "Mr. Sterling, please! The patient needs to rest."

His hand was a mess. It took the nurse a while to get him settled on the sofa and bandage the wound. In the middle of it, his phone rang. He took a deep breath, his eyelids twitching with suppressed rage. His tone was clipped. "I told you, I'm busy."

A lazy, carefree voice drifted from the speakerphone. "Isabelle is waiting for you, man. What could possibly be more important?"

Caleb Sterling’s eyes were locked on me, cold and unblinking.

"I'm dealing with a cheater," he said slowly, enunciating every word. "You tell me. Is that important?"