A LOVE FORGOTTEN

Anita's POV

Anita's heels clicked against the hospital hallway tiles as she made her way toward the exit. Her mind was spinning, her heart thundering with a mixture of fear and fury.

She couldn't let Ethan piece the memories together—not when they threatened everything she'd worked so hard to build. She couldn't let him remember her.

As Anita stepped out of the hospital, the cold night air biting at her cheeks, she muttered to herself, "I can't let Ethan know about that tramp. I have to do something to keep the girl hidden forever."

She pulled out her phone and dialed a number she hadn't used in years. The line rang once before a gruff voice answered.

"Hello?"

Anita's lips curled into a cold, determined smile. "We need to meet. Tonight."

Without waiting for a reply, she hung up. But the adrenaline pumping through her veins demanded more action. One call wasn't enough. She needed a stronger ally—someone who could help her manipulate Ethan into staying. Someone who hated the idea of losing him as much as she did.

She scrolled through her contacts and dialed Ethan's mother.

"Anita?" came the sharp, clipped voice from the other end.

"Yes, it's me," Anita replied, forcing a tremor of distress into her tone. "Mrs. Hart, I need to talk to you. It's about Ethan."

"What's wrong?" Ethan's mother asked, her voice instantly tight with worry. "Is he okay?"

"He's… physically fine," Anita said carefully, pausing to let the weight of her words sink in. "But something's happening to him. He's been having these… these memories, and they're about her."

There was a beat of silence before Ethan's mother's voice dropped into a venomous whisper. "Emily."

"Yes," Anita said, her voice trembling now, perfectly rehearsed. "He's trying to remember her. He even told me he wants to take a break from us. He thinks he needs 'space to figure things out.' But I know it's her influence. It's always been her, hasn't it?"

The fury in Ethan's mother's voice was palpable. "That girl ruined him once. She will not do it again."

"I'm scared, Mrs. Hart," Anita confessed, letting her voice crack. "I don't know what to do. He's slipping away, and I can't stop it."

"You don't worry about that, dear," Ethan's mother said, her tone sharp and commanding now. "We won't let this happen. That girl has no place in his life—or ours. I'll deal with Ethan. You focus on keeping him close, no matter what it takes. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Anita said, relief flooding her voice. "I'll do whatever I can."

"Good," Ethan's mother said curtly before hanging up.

But Anita wasn't done. With one final call to make, she squared her shoulders, her fingers steady as she redialed the gruff-voiced man.

Thirty minutes later, Anita sat in a shadowy corner of a dimly lit bar, her fingers curled around a glass of untouched wine. Across from her sat a man she hadn't seen in years—Jack, a fixer for hire whose reputation for getting things done was as fearsome as it was reliable.

"You look the same," Jack remarked, his rough voice laced with cynicism. "Still pretty, still trouble."

"I didn't come here for flattery," Anita snapped, leaning forward. "I need you to find someone. A woman."

Jack arched an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "And what do you want me to do when I find her?"

Anita's voice dropped to a low whisper, every word laced with venom. "I want you to make sure she disappears. Permanently."

Jack studied her for a moment, leaning back in his chair. "That's a big ask. You know what that kind of work costs?"

"Money isn't an issue," Anita replied coldly. "Just do what I'm asking. I'll send you all the information I have on her."

"Consider it done," Jack said with a nod. "What's the girl's name?"

Anita's lips twisted into a cruel smile. "Emily."

Jack smirked, tapping his fingers on the table before standing up. "I'll be in touch."

As he disappeared into the night, Anita leaned back in her chair, a sense of triumph flickering in her chest. She'd done what she had to. Ethan was hers, and no ghost from his past was going to take him away.