Faked Amnesia, Got a Billionaire Boyfriend

Seattle's autumn rain drummed against the windows of "Hometown Beans" coffee shop, creating a dull, rhythmic tapping. Only a handful of customers sat inside, the air thick with the aroma of coffee beans and an inexplicable tension.

I stood behind the counter wiping down coffee mugs, a few strands of hair escaping from my messy bun to tickle against my cheeks.

I reached up to tuck them behind my ear, accidentally catching sight of fresh coffee stains on my jeans.

"Damn it." I muttered under my breath, scrubbing vigorously at a stubborn coffee ring on the mug. It had been an especially busy day, and my coffee bean logo t-shirt was stuck to my back with sweat.

Howard Reynolds emerged from the roasting room, his tall frame nearly blocking out the sunlight streaming in behind him.

My nemesis. Even in an apron, his annoyingly perfect silhouette still looked like something out of a coffee commercial—damn it, why do I always notice these things? His dark brown hair was slightly tousled, sleeves of his dark shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms.

I forced myself to look away, focusing intently on the mug.

Three years ago, after we both graduated college, we'd both wanted to work here. Mr. Peterson had only planned to hire one person, but we'd argued so fiercely during the interview that the old man had thrown up his hands and said, "Fine, I'll keep both of you." At the time, I thought I'd hit the jackpot. Now I know what that really cost me.

Because in these three years, we've had more fights than the shop has sold coffee cups.

"Mr. Peterson wants to see us." His voice was low, carrying a barely detectable note of tension.

I looked up, wariness flashing in my eyes. "Both of us? Together?"

"Looks like it." Howard avoided my gaze. "He said he has something important to announce."

We walked toward the small office at the back of the shop. Mr. Peterson sat behind his desk, his white hair gleaming silver under the lights, the wrinkles on his face as deep as the grooves on coffee beans. He looked more serious than usual.

"Sit down, kids." The old man gestured to the two chairs in front of him.

Howard and I carefully took our seats, maintaining an arm's length between us, though the tension in the air felt ready to explode at any moment.

Mr. Peterson cleared his throat. "I think you've both noticed that I've been feeling tired lately. The doctor says I need to consider retirement."

My heart started pounding. This coffee shop was my dream. I'd worked here for three years, treating every corner like my own home.

"I've decided to leave this shop to one of you." Mr. Peterson's words exploded like a bomb in the room.

"I want it!" The words burst out of me before I could stop them. Realizing my impulsiveness, I blushed.

Howard turned to look at me, complex emotions flashing in his eyes. "Mr. Peterson, I'd also like the chance to take over the shop. I have a deep understanding of traditional coffee-making techniques, and I believe I can—"

"Wait!" I interrupted him, my eyes blazing with determination. "You think you're more qualified than me? I've worked here for three years. I know every customer's preferences. I know what kind of innovation this place needs!"

"Innovation?" Howard let out a cold laugh. "Your innovation is turning a traditional latte into some pink unicorn latte?"

"At least my innovations attract customers!" I stood up, my voice rising an octave. "Unlike some people who cling to outdated recipes and think they're coffee masters!"

Mr. Peterson raised his hand for silence. "Kids, please calm down. I need a week to think this over. I want both of you to prepare a business plan—tell me your understanding of this shop and your vision for its future."

"I'll prove it to you." I said through gritted teeth, determination burning in my eyes like fire.

"So will I." Howard's voice was deeper, but equally resolute.

After leaving the office, we found ourselves in the back kitchen. The familiar coffee-making equipment surrounded us, but the atmosphere was now charged with hostility.

"You're still as self-righteous as ever!" I spun around to face Howard, pointing at his chest. "Always thinking you know better than everyone else! Just like in high school—always the perfect Howard Reynolds!"

Howard's face darkened instantly. "At least I don't sell out my principles for success, unlike some people who only know how to rely on rich guys!"

The words hit me like a slap across the face. I thought of James's kindness to me in college, of those days when Howard had suddenly started treating me with cold indifference.

"What did you just say?!" My voice trembled with rage. "You think you know me? You don't know anything! You have no idea what I sacrificed to work here!"

"I thought the Molly I used to know disappeared long ago." Pain flashed in Howard's eyes, his voice becoming hoarse. "The girl who used to share secrets with me, who would make me hot chocolate when I had nightmares, who..."

He stopped, but the pain in his words had already cut through our last pretenses like a knife.

I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I remembered our childhood, those carefree afternoons, Howard's gentle smile. But now everything had changed.

"That girl really is gone." I said coldly. "Because you killed her with your own hands!"

With that, I turned and rushed out of the kitchen, pushing through the coffee shop door and into the rain.

The evening streets bustled with people, rainwater blurring my vision. I didn't know where I was going, only that I had to get away—away from that place that broke my heart, away from the boy who had once been my entire world.

Just then, a loud crash came from behind me.

I instinctively turned back to see the vintage copper sign at the coffee shop entrance swaying violently. Whether from the strong wind or years of wear, the sign suddenly broke free from its mounting.

I tried to dodge, but the rain had made the pavement slippery. My foot slipped, and I lost my balance.

BANG!

The heavy copper sign struck me directly in the head. Instantly, the world went black.

"Molly!" Howard's voice came from somewhere far away, filled with panic and desperation.

When I opened my eyes again, harsh white light made me squint. The smell of hospital disinfectant invaded my nostrils, making me want to sneeze.

"She's awake!" an unfamiliar female voice said.

I struggled to move my eyes and saw a doctor in a white coat checking my pupil response. Howard stood beside the bed, his face pale as paper, his eyes full of worry and guilt.

"I... my head really hurts." I said weakly, my voice hoarse.

"That's normal." the doctor said gently. "You were struck by a heavy object, causing a mild concussion. We need to observe you tonight, but if there are no unusual symptoms, you can go home tomorrow."

Howard stepped forward nervously. "Doctor, she'll be okay, right? This is all my fault... if I hadn't argued with her, she wouldn't have run out..."

The doctor reassured him, "Don't worry too much. You need to contact her family and handle the admission paperwork. The nurses' station is at the end of the hall."

Howard looked at me hesitantly. "Molly, I'm going to make a phone call. I'll be right back."

Once Howard's footsteps faded down the corridor, I stared at the ceiling, my mind racing.

Wait. Mild concussion? Short-term memory confusion?

Holy shit. This was a gift from heaven.

What if I pretended to have amnesia? Would Mr. Peterson really make a poor, injured girl who couldn't remember anything compete fairly with Howard?

This was perfect. I'd been fighting with that guy Howard for three years, and now here was my game changer.

I could hear Howard's anxious voice on the phone in the distance: "Mr. Peterson... yes, Molly had an accident... at the hospital..."

I quickly planned in my head. Luckily, I'd been a natural actor since childhood—I'd never been caught faking sick to skip school.

Sorry, Howard Reynolds. When you come back, you'll be facing a completely innocent girl who doesn't remember today's fight at all.