Amnesia Love: The Five Boyfriends Challenge

It's been said that a truly successful person must find success even in reincarnation.

This was a belief instilled in me by my grandfather, Bodie Meredith, also known as the king of jewelry.

As his only granddaughter, I've been showered with love and luxury from a young age.

Fancy cars, designer watches, high-end handbags, lavish houses...

Whatever I desired, my family would spare no expense to gift it to me, all for the price of my smile.

Their indulgence knew no bounds.

When my grades faltered, they were ready to pave my way into Harvard's finance department, despite a C-minus average.

My disdain for academics was met with a solution: withdraw from school and live freely in an 800-square-meter villa. They had amassed enough wealth for me to spend lavishly for centuries.

For twenty years, my life glided by without a hitch—until he came along.

Raimundo Adrian, the son of one of my father's closest friends, breezed into the company post-graduation from a London university, taking over as vice president.

He was striking, with neatly kept golden-brown hair and green eyes as enigmatic as a lake, drawing in anyone who dared a glance, coaxing them to uncover more of his secrets.

His gentility was that of a medieval knight, the epitome of his family's refined upbringing. He would lean in attentively during conversations, allowing the subtle scent of gardenia from his cologne to envelop you.

I adored his tenderness, yet loathed sharing it with others. To make his affections mine alone, I resolved to propose to him at my 20th birthday party.

As the cherished little princess of my family, my previous nineteen birthday celebrations were the talk of the city.

The guests at my parties were the city's elite, and attendance was a coveted honor.

This 20th birthday was special—it was the first I had a hand in planning. From the guest list to the party's decor, desserts, and drinks, nothing proceeded without my approval.

With a planning team arranged by my grandfather, I poured my efforts into making the event perfect, eager to let the city know that the vice president would soon be my fiancé.

Everything was progressing smoothly. My brother Monford had hinted at my intentions to Raimundo, who hadn't objected, fueling my hopes.

But things didn't go as planned.

The party was in full swing, and there I stood in the spotlight, clad in a custom-made pink gown, a diamond hair clip from my father sparkling in my hair, ready to read my heartfelt confession letter. But Raimundo was nowhere to be seen.

For the first time in my twenty years, panic gripped me.

I had always reveled in the spotlight, but now I shrank from the gazes around me. Their eyes no longer held admiration and envy, but mockery and scorn.

Unable to endure the humiliation, I fled like a drenched pheasant. I don't know who pushed me, but I tumbled into the pool.

Swimming was second nature to me, yet I hesitated to surface, fearing the crowd's jeering eyes.

Why were they near me?

The voices in my head whispered they were waiting to laugh at me.

So I closed my eyes, abandoned the struggle, and convinced myself it was all a dream. When I awoke, I'd be the city's most sought-after princess again.

There was no disastrous birthday party, no failed proposal—it was all a figment of my imagination.

·

"Chloe, Chloe..."

A voice called out, familiar yet unplaceable.

And who is Chloe?

Confusion swirled within me, and even opening my eyes seemed an insurmountable task.

Who am I?

What's happened to me?

I didn't know, but a voice inside assured me: You're tired, rest now, and all will be well.

When I next awoke, strength returned, and I opened my eyes to a blinding white light. I wanted to retreat back into sleep, but a stronger desire to understand my predicament took hold.

Why couldn't I remember who I was?

Thankfully, my eyes adjusted, and I surveyed my surroundings—a place awash in white.

White walls, white tables, white beds, and even the staff's attire—all white.

Heaven forbid, I thought, am I dead? Are these people angels?

"Miss Chloe, Miss Chloe..."

An 'angel' noticed my eyes open and leaned in. He was elderly, with eyes crinkled like overcooked pasta.

I recoiled internally—how could this face be so close to mine?

He had called me Chloe—was that my name?

Before I could inquire, the door swung open, and a procession entered: men, women, elders...

Their gazes were laden with concern. I didn't recognize them, yet a sense of security washed over me at their sight.

"Oh Chloe, my poor baby granddaughter, how are you feeling?"

A dapper old man in a dark gray coat and a black jazz hat approached the bed. His age was evident, yet he retained a distinguished handsomeness.

Deep-set eyes, blue pupils that captivated me.

His skin sagged with time, but his defined jawline hinted at a past that would have made him the heartthrob of his era. I didn't resist his approach; his blue eyes radiated genuine care.

"You are..."

"Oh, God, no, no, no..."

His eyes widened, and his body tensed at the sound of my voice.

"My dear, how can you not remember Grandpa?"

He brushed my hair gently, and his eyes slowly reddened with emotion.

He composed himself, then turned to a young man at the end of the bed, saying, "Monford, find the best neurologist for your sister. We must ensure she recovers!"

"I'm on it; I'll arrange it right now," Monford replied, approaching me with haste. He leaned down and planted a kiss on my forehead.

"Chloe, don't worry, I'll find the best doctor for you. Trust me."

I was too distracted by his appealing thin lips to process his words.

Oh, the irony—such a handsome man is my brother. That's the most disheartening news I've heard since waking up!