Forgotten The Man Who Broke Me

Maxwell Prescotts memory resets every ninety days.

Every three months, he returns to the day he hated me most. Like clockwork, hed break my spiritand sometimes my bonesto avenge his wards honor. Then, after a hundred nights of penance, he would propose to me under a canopy of fireflies, only for the cycle to restart the next morning.

I lived through the loop, over and over, waiting for the day his memory would finally hold. I believed my love was a tether that would eventually pull him back to reality.

Until I heard him through the cracked door of a private lounge at the club.

"Max, how long are you going to keep this up?" It was one of his inner circle laughing. "The 'memory reset' thing? Only a delusional girl like Daisy would buy it. Every time, shes on her knees begging us to help her 'remind' you of your love, desperate to marry you."

"Three days until the next 'reset,' right? Which round is this?"

"The ninth," Maxwells voice replied. It was deep, cool, and devastatingly clear. "Daisys pathetic little catering mistake poisoned Maisie and ruined her debutante ball. This is just the interest on the debt she owes."

I heard the soft rustle of fabrichim ruffling Maisies hair.

"Nobody messes with my girl," he added, his voice dropping into a register of tenderness he had never once used with me without the shroud of 'amnesia.'

The betrayal was a physical blade between my ribs. My "devotion" was nothing more than the punchline to a cruel, year-long prank.

I wiped my face, the salt of my tears stinging my chapped skin, and summoned the Interface in my mind.

Negotiations are over, I told the cold, mechanical voice. In three days, when the mission fails, wipe every trace of Maxwell Prescott from my mind.

...

[Host, are you certain?]

Before I could answer, the voices in the lounge drifted out again.

"I heard if Daisys hand gets broken one more time, shell never be able to hold a paintbrush again." The speaker sounded hesitant. "Max, isn't the punishment... enough?"

The clink of a wine glass stopped. I pictured Maxwells lips thinning into that hard, aristocratic line.

Maisie lowered her head, her fingers tracing the custom diamond tennis bracelet on her wrist. "Uncle Max, I love this birthday gift. The debutante ball was just a formality... it doesn't matter that it was ruined."

Her voice was soft, performatively sweet. Every word was designed to sound like a grace note while hitting like a hammer.

Maxwells temper flared instantly. I heard the thud of a boot hitting a chair. "Since when do you tell me how to handle my business?"

He took Maisies hand in his, treating her like a piece of priceless Ming porcelain. "Even if Daisy loses her hand, it wouldn't compensate for what you lost. A street-food cook thinking she can be a fine artist? Its pathetic. Shes a moth reaching for a star she doesn't deserve."

A sharp, mocking huff escaped his nose. It felt like a thousand needles piercing my heart.

I remembered when I lost that scholarship competition. I wanted to give up on my dreams, but he was the one who held me. He told me I was a "Sunflower"that no matter how dark it got, I had to keep my head up and face the light.

But the light was a lie. In his eyes, I wasn't a sunflower. I was a nuisance.

Laughter erupted in the room.

"Shes got some talent, though," someone joked. "If Max hadn't called the judges beforehand, she actually wouldve taken first place."

The world went silent. My fingers began to shake uncontrollably. I had poured my soul into that competition. It was my one ticket out of poverty, my one chance to stand beside him as an equal. And he had crushed it with a single phone call.

Are the dreams of the poor really that cheap? Just something for the elite to stomp on for sport?

I clenched my fists so hard my nails drew blood.

[Host, I ask again: do you wish to proceed with the memory wipe?] the Interface chimed. [You previously traded ten years of your lifespan to extend this mission. Are you truly giving up?]

A bitter laugh bubbled up in my throat. A month ago, I was terrified of losing him. I had begged the System for more time, desperate to save the man I thought was trapped in a cycle of trauma.

What a joke.

I closed my eyes, letting the hot tears spill over.

I'm sure. Delete it all.

Right then, my phone buzzed violently in my pocket.

"Daisy, its your mom. Theres been an accident!"

Kidney failure.

The words on the medical report blurred. I looked at my mother, pale and fragile on the hospital bed. I had been so obsessed with "saving" Maxwell that I hadn't noticed the shadow of death creeping over her face. Guilt crashed over me like a tidal wave.

At the billing counter, my vision was swollen and red. I looked at the balance in my bank accounta number I could count on one hand.

The nurse sighed, her gaze flickering with pity and impatience. "Ms. Mona, we need the deposit now."

"Can I just..." I started, my voice cracking.

Then, the elevator dinned. Maxwell appeared, walking with that effortless, powerful stride. He was slightly out of breath.

"Daisy, I heard about your mother..."

Seeing my ruined face, he pulled my cold body into his chest. "Its okay. Im here."

The warmth. The scent of expensive cologne and cedarwood. He always did this. He always appeared at my lowest momentscar accidents, legal scares, every crisis. It was as if he had a sixth sense for my pain.

I grew up without a father. I was starved for a protector. That was why, even after he broke my hand the first time, I forgave him. Because he knelt and apologized with such "sincerity." Because he stayed by my side for weeks, enduring my anger without a word.

I fell for a man twelve years my senior because his "warmth" was like top-shelf whiskey. One sip, and I was too drunk to find the exit.

"Uncle Max!"

Maisies voice cut through the air. Maxwell pushed me away instantly. The sudden coldness snapped me back to reality.

I felt like a fool. I was still craving the comfort of a man who was actively destroying me.

Maisie glanced at my phone screen, seeing the pathetic balance. She gasped, loud enough for the waiting room to turn their heads. "Daisy, is that all you have left? Doesn't Uncle Max give you enough of an allowance?"

The whispers started. To the strangers in the lobby, I was just a cheap mistress being scolded by the "real" family. Maxwell frowned, but he didn't correct her.

Instead, he leaned in and whispered, "Maisie didn't mean it that way. I'll talk to her at home. Shes sensitive, I can't embarrass her in public."

So, for her pride, I had to wear the scarlet letter. Of course. How could a "sinner" like me compare to his precious ward?

I looked at him, my eyes dead. "Give me five hundred thousand dollars."

Maxwell froze. I had never asked him for a dime in three years. But if I was going to be labeled a mistress, I might as well get the market rate. My mother needed that surgery.

His expression darkened. "What did you say?"

"The bags, the jewelry you bought to 'apologize' over the months... I never kept them. They're worth more than half a million. Give me the cash."

Maxwells jaw tightened. "Thats different."

It was. Gifts to a pet are an act of mercy. A pet demanding payment is an act of rebellion.

Maisie patted his arm, and he settled instantly, like a lion being tamed by a child. She smiled at mea smile dripping with pure, unadulterated contempt.

"Daisy, Uncle Max didn't bring his cards in a hurry. I have five thousand in cash here. Take it for now."

She pulled a stack of bills from her designer bag and reached for my hand. But as she pressed the money into my palm, her sharp, manicured nails dug deep into my skin, drawing blood.

I flinched, shoving her hand away.

Maisie let out a theatrical shriek and collapsed onto the floor. The cash scattered like autumn leaves.

"Daisy!" she sobbed, looking up with big, watery eyes. "Why did you push me? I just wanted to help. I didn't mean to insult you!"

Maxwells gaze turned to ice. "Is this how you ask for help, Daisy?"

"She stabbed me" I started, but he cut me off with a raised hand.

"I know what you're going to say. 'She tripped herself.' Spare me."

I closed my mouth. I was done explaining. I was done believing hed ever choose the truth over her. I knelt on the dirty hospital floor, numbly picking up the bills one by one. This was my mothers life.

Suddenly, a heavy boot stepped on my hand, crushing it into the tile. Maxwell looked down at me from his height.

"Apologize to Maisie."

The rubber sole of his shoe ground into my knuckles, crushing the last of my dignity.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Say it like you mean it."

I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper. I let my knees hit the floor with a heavy thud.

"I am sorry."

I looked up at him, my face a mask of indifference. "Are we done?"

His chest heaved. He sighed, a sound of weary disappointment, and knelt to help me pick up the rest of the money. "I know you're stressed about your mother, but thats no excuse to take it out on Maisie. Don't let it happen again."

"It won't," I said softly.

Because there wouldn't be a next time.

Maxwell used some of the cash to pay the immediate hospital fees and shoved the rest into my hand. "Take me to see her."

My mother hated Maxwell. Even with his billions, she saw him for what he wasa broken, dangerous man. She never gave him a kind word. But today, she was different. She held his hand and talked for a long time.

I knew why. She was trying to entrust me to him. She was afraid that after she was gone, Id be alone in this world.

A suffocating bitterness rose in my throat. I didn't have the heart to tell her that the man she was pleading with was the wolf at our door.

I didn't break character. I needed his money for the treatment, and I needed his connections to find a donor. That night, he found a match. A kidney was being flown in. If it arrived by tomorrow, my mother would live.

The next day, I waited.

From dawn until dusk, I sat by her bed. But Maxwell never showed. The orange glow of the sunset hit my sleeping mother, making her look like a ghost already fading away.

With trembling hands, I dialed his number for the hundredth time. Finally, someone picked up. It wasn't Maxwell; it was his friend.

"Oh, Daisy? Yeah, Max is busy. Maisie had a sudden migraine, and she was crying for him. Hes at the villa taking care of her."

He was with Maisie. And he had the transport documents for the kidney.

I flew to his villa like a madwoman. I didn't even look at the two of them on the bedintertwined, mid-kiss. I grabbed the medical cooler tossed in the corner and bolted for the door.

I had thirty minutes. If I could get to the hospital in thirty minutes, the organ would still be viable.

But as I hailed a cab, Maxwells security team swarmed me. They dragged me back to the rooftop of the villa.

Maisie was standing on the ledge, weeping beautifully. Maxwell, his face dark with rage, grabbed me by the collar and shoved me toward her.

"Because you burst in like that, Maisie is traumatized! She thinks you've misunderstood everything, and now shes suicidal!" he roared. "Tell her! Tell her you didn't see anything!"

I let out a jagged, hysterical laugh. "Misunderstood? Misunderstood that you're two deviants masquerading as 'family' while you're sleeping together?"

Slap.

The force of his hand sent my head spinning.

"Shut your mouth!" Maxwell hissed, his voice shaking with fury. "If Maisie doesn't step down from that ledge, you can forget about that kidney. And you can forget about any surgeon in this city touching your mother."

I stared at him, seeing the absolute coldness in his eyes. He meant it. He would let my mother die to soothe Maisies ego.

My mother was waiting for me.

"I didn't see anything!" I screamed at the girl on the ledge. "You're innocent! You're a perfect, loving family! Just get down!"

Maisies eyes glinted with triumph. She took her sweet time, lingering for several more minutes before finally stepping down.

I sprinted back to the hospital, heart hammering against my ribs. But when I arrived, the surgeon looked at me with a heavy shake of his head.

"Its too late. The tissue is degraded. We missed the window by ten minutes."

I collapsed, the screams tearing out of my throat until I had no breath left.

Later that night, a courier delivered a familiar, exquisite gift box. Then, Maxwell called.

"Maisie is my best friends daughter. I couldn't just let her jump, Daisy. Well find another donor..."

I said nothing.

He sighed, changing the subject. "You got the dress, right? Wear it tomorrow night. Meet me at our usual spot. I have something important to say."

I remembered then. Tomorrow was his ninth "proposal." He still wanted to play the game.

But Maxwell, I'm done playing.

The next night, I didn't go.

The couture gown went into the trash. As I was signing the discharge papers to take my mother home for hospice, Maxwells friend appeared and forced me into a car.

"Max has been waiting for hours! Whats wrong with you? This might be the time his memory actually staysdon't throw it away now!"

The field was filled with fireflies. I had seen this eight times before, and every time, I had cried with joy. I used to think I was his ultimate choice. Now I knew I was just his favorite victim.

The lights weren't magical anymore. They were blinding.

I watched Maxwell, in the same suit, reciting the same vows. When he held out the diamond ring, I reached out and slapped it into the dirt.

Maxwell froze. "Daisy? What... don't you want to marry me?"

"Maxwell," I said, my voice like dry ice. "Stop acting"

Suddenly, his friend ran up, staring at his phone. He whispered something to Maxwell, and they both glanced at me. Maxwell tried to shove him away. "Not now! Can't you see I'm busy? Get out!"

A serpent of dread coiled in my gut. I snatched the phone from the friends hand.

My heart stopped.

It was a live stream. My mother was standing on the hospital rooftop.

I ran. I flagged a taxi, my hands shaking so hard I could barely hold the phone. I spammed the chat in the live stream. Mom, please get down. I'm coming!

The streamer, a young kid looking for clout, saw my comments and laughed into the camera. "Oh, you're the daughter? Your mom is jumping because of you! She found out her daughter is a high-end hooker for some billionaire. Shes too ashamed to live!"

The blood in my veins turned to slush.

Then, my mothers voice came through the speaker. She was talking to a nurse. "My Daisy... shes a good girl. She shouldn't have to sell her soul to pay for my life. Tell her... tell her shes free now."

I gripped the phone, a scream of pure agony trapped in my chest.

I reached the hospital just in time to hear the crowd below shouting. "Just jump already! Having a daughter like that is a failure anyway!"

Then... Thud.

A sickening, heavy sound.

My mother bloomed like a red flower on the pavement right before my eyes.

"No!"

I threw myself onto her broken body, cradling her. My tears mixed with the blood on her face. I looked at the crowd, my mouth open, but no sound came out.

Please. Help her. Somebody help her.

[Host, the mission window has closed. You have failed.]

[Beginning the wipe of all memories related to Maxwell Prescott...]

...

Maxwell intended to follow Daisy to the hospital, but Maisie called. Another headache.

He hesitated, then turned the car around. He stayed with her through the night, eventually falling into a deep sleep by her bedside.

When he woke up at noon, his group chat was blowing up.

"Max, are you starting the 'Reset' act today? Round nine?"

Maxwell stared at the screen for a long time. Beside him, Maisie stirred.

He typed one word: Yeah.

After showering, he sent his usual instructions to his security team: Go find Daisy. Break her hand.

But an uneasy feeling was gnawing at him. Two hours later, the lead guard called back.

"Sir... Ms. Mona is gone."