The Day I Forgot Your Name

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Four years ago, I was forced to leave him because of a setup.

Four years later, he was a billionaire, and he ground me into the dirt, right alongside his fiance.

This million dollars, it buys you for a year as my mistress. He stuffed the check into my collar with a sneer. Service me well in bed.

For the sake of my grandmother in the ICU, I became his secret lover.

Until he crushed my right hand with his own, until my grandmother died cold and alone in the morgue. That's when I began to hate him with everything I had.

I came to despise him completely.

I vanished completely from his world.

But he went mad searching for me everywhere.

When he finally found me, I was in a wedding dress, arm in arm with my new husband, and I said to him.

"Who are you again?"

Claire's POV

"I heard Mr. Barrett gave that East Coast property to the Sterling family daughter as an engagement gift."

"That's not all. They haven't even officially announced the engagement yet, but that pink diamond on her finger could buy ten of my lives."

The private room was thick with smoke, the clinking of glasses rising and falling in waves.

I kept my head down as I poured drinks, trying to minimize my presence as much as possible.

My wrist suddenly trembled, and a few drops of red wine splattered onto the pristine white custom tablecloth.

"What kind of service is this?" someone scolded disapprovingly.

I grabbed napkins to wipe it up, but out of the corner of my eye, I caught a pair of dark, unreadable eyes.

Damien Barrett sat in the seat of honor, a half-burned cigarette between his fingers. Through the curling smoke, he watched me with something between a smile and contempt.

His gaze was cold as ice, tinged with mockery and disdain.

As if watching an ant struggling pathetically.

"I'm sorry." I lowered my eyes, my voice dry.

The person beside him wanted to make more of it, trying to curry favor with this top billionaire, but Damien flicked his cigarette ash and spoke casually:

"Forget it."

His voice was low and deep, carrying the lazy quality of someone long accustomed to power. "Miss Davis is an old acquaintance. Let's give her some face."

The words "old acquaintance" were bitten off with particular emphasis, dripping with sarcasm.

The atmosphere in the room instantly became strange.

Everyone's eyes darted between me and Damien.

Who didn't know that Damien Barrett's most hated person was me?

Four years ago, when he was at his lowest point-exiled abroad by the Barrett family-I took a million dollars from his rival and broke up with him on the spot.

I still remember that rainy night when he grabbed my wrist with red-rimmed eyes and asked if I had any heart at all.

What did I say then?

I said, "Damien Barrett, you can't even afford to buy me a handbag right now. Why should I suffer with you?"

That was the last time we saw each other.

Now, he was the high-and-mighty head of the Barrett empire, about to marry the well-matched Miss Sterling.

And I was just an employee here, smiling and pouring drinks for a three-thousand-dollar commission.

"Since Mr. Barrett has spoken up for you, why don't you toast him?"

Someone started jeering, pushing a full glass of liquor in front of me.

My stomach churned, but this deal was important to the company-and even more important to my grandmother lying in the ICU.

I picked up the glass, forcibly suppressing my trembling. "Mr. Barrett, I toast to you."

Damien didn't move.

He leaned back in his chair, his slender fingers tapping the table absently, his gaze sliding from my face to my hands, finally stopping at my cheap employee badge.

"Claire Davis."

He suddenly called my name, his voice cold to the bone.

"This drink, you could afford it four years ago. Now, do you think you're worthy of it?"

Claire's POV

A deathly silence.

My hand holding the wine glass froze mid-air, my knuckles bone-white.

Shame surged over me like a tidal wave, nearly drowning me.

All around were eyes watching the spectacle.

I knew he was taking revenge.

Revenge for my gold-digging ways back then, revenge for how deeply and cruelly I'd stabbed him.

"Mr. Barrett, you must be joking."

I took a deep breath and forced out a professional smile. "The customer is king. As long as you're happy, I'm worthy of anything."

With that, I tilted my head back and drained the glass of liquor in one go.

The burning liquid scorched down my throat, making my eyes water.

I set down the empty glass, turning it upside down to show it was finished. "Mr. Barrett, satisfied?"

Damien stared at my reddened eyes, his pupils darkening several shades.

He said nothing, only casually splashing the untouched red wine in front of him onto the floor.

The deep red liquid splattered on my heels and ankles.

Cold. Sticky.

"It's dirty." He said flatly. "Get someone clean to pour instead."

This was naked humiliation.

I felt all the blood drain from my face in an instant.

But I couldn't leave.

The contract wasn't signed yet. I hadn't gotten my commission.

"Damien, that's too far."

A gentle voice suddenly cut in.

Ashton Reid, who'd been sitting quietly in the corner, stood up and walked past everyone to my side.

He took off his suit jacket and draped it over my slightly trembling shoulders, blocking those ill-intentioned gazes.

"Miss Davis is my guest. It's fine to have her help warm up the room, but there's no need to humiliate her like this."

Ashton was my boss, and the only person in these four years who'd known my background but never mocked me for it.

Damien narrowed his eyes, his gaze landing on Ashton's hand resting on my shoulder.

In that instant, the temperature in the room seemed to drop to freezing.

"Ashton," Damien sneered, "since when did you start picking through garbage for companionship?"

Ashton's expression changed. "Damien!"

"Isn't it true?"

Damien stood up, his tall figure looming over us with overwhelming pressure.

He walked up to me, looking down from his height, his eyes full of disgust.

"A woman who'd sell herself for money at any time. She might be a treasure in your eyes, but to me, she's worse than garbage."

With that, he didn't spare me another glance and strode out of the room.

In that moment, I heard the sound of my heart breaking.

Not because I still loved him.

But because even after four years, facing his humiliation still hurt.

Claire's POV

The dinner ended badly.

I rushed to the restroom and threw up violently.

My stomach felt like it was on fire, the pain making me unable to straighten up.

The woman in the mirror was pale, her makeup smudged-as wretched as a ghost.

Claire, you're so pathetic.

I cursed myself internally.

When I came out after composing myself, it was pouring rain outside.

The autumn rain was bone-chilling, cold wind whipping dead leaves against the glass doors.

Ashton pulled up in his car and rolled down the window. "Get in. I'll drive you home."

"No need, Mr. Reid. The subway is very convenient for me." I didn't want to cause him more trouble.

He'd already offended Damien Barrett by defending me in the private room.

Ashton sighed helplessly. "Claire, this is a private club. The nearest subway station is three miles away. Are you planning to walk in this?"

I froze.

As I hesitated, a black Maybach tore through the rain curtain and slowly stopped at the entrance.

The windows were closed tight-I couldn't see who was inside.

But I recognized that license plate.

It was Damien's car.

The car door opened. The driver got out with a black umbrella and respectfully opened the rear door.

A gleaming leather shoe touched the ground, followed by those long legs wrapped in dress pants.

Damien Barrett got out of the car.

A woman was nestled in his arms.

She wore a white Chanel suit, her long hair flowing over her shoulders, exuding an elegant and noble air. The limited-edition crocodile leather bag in her hand was worth five years of my salary.

Natalie Sterling.

His fiance.

The two of them nestled intimately together. Natalie looked up at him, smiling as she said something. Though Damien's face was expressionless, he leaned slightly to shield her from the drifting rain.

That scene was so dazzling it made me want to cry.

I instinctively shrank back into the shadows.

But Natalie had sharp eyes and still spotted me.

"Isn't that Miss Davis from earlier?"

Natalie's voice was sweet, carrying an innocent cruelty. "Damien, look-she doesn't seem to have an umbrella. Should we give her a ride?"

Damien followed her gaze.

Our eyes met in the air.

His expression was indifferent, as if looking at an irrelevant stranger.

"Not on our way."

Three simple words-a death sentence.

Natalie covered her mouth and laughed softly. "That's true. Miss Davis probably lives somewhere quite far away. Well, we'll be going then. Goodbye, Miss Davis."

The two turned and got in the car.

The Maybach started up, its taillights cutting two red streaks through the air. Without mercy, it crushed through puddles on the ground, splashing mud all over me, then sped away.

I stood there, freezing all over.

"Get in."

Ashton's voice came again, this time with undeniable firmness.

I didn't argue anymore and pulled open the door to get in.

The car was warm with the heater running, but I couldn't seem to warm up at all.

"Don't take what he said to heart." Ashton handed me a bottle of water. "Damien's personality has changed drastically these past few years. He's ruthless in business-treats everyone the same way."

I clutched the water bottle and smiled bitterly. "I know."

I was the one who turned him into this.

I didn't blame him.

I only hated this fate that had never given me even one chance to catch my breath.

The car pulled up to my shabby apartment building.

I thanked him and was about to get out when Ashton suddenly called out to me.

"Claire."

He looked at me, seeming to want to say something but stopping himself. "That project... Barrett Corporation specifically requested a different person in charge. If you don't want to do it, I can arrange a transfer for you."

My hand tightened on the door handle.

The ICU cost an astronomical amount per day.

A transfer meant a pay cut, which meant my grandmother's oxygen tube might get pulled.

I turned back, my eyes determined. "No need, Mr. Reid. I've been working on this project for six months. I can handle it."

Ashton looked at me deeply and sighed. "Alright. Call me anytime if you need anything."

Claire's POV

The next day, I was woken up by my phone blowing up with calls.

My grandmother's attending physician told me the account was running low on funds again. If I didn't pay soon, subsequent treatment might be interrupted.

I looked at the pitiful balance in my bank account and gritted my teeth, transferring all my savings.

That left me with five hundred dollars for living expenses.

When I got to the office, I could tell immediately that something was off.

Colleagues were gathered in small groups whispering. When they saw me come in, their voices dropped, but their eyes were full of prying curiosity and contempt.

"That's her, right? I heard she used to date Mr. Barrett?"

"What 'date'? She was his kept woman, wasn't she? I heard she took the money and ran when Mr. Barrett hit hard times."

"Oh my god, that's so mercenary. And now that Mr. Barrett's successful, she's throwing herself at him again?"

"Last night at the club, Mr. Barrett publicly humiliated her, and she still forced herself to drink. Talk about shameless."

The gossip from the break room wasn't quiet-every word stabbed like needles.

I poured myself a cup of water expressionlessly and walked out.

The voices cut off abruptly.

Back at my desk, a document was slapped down in front of me.

It was Barrett Corporation's project contract.

"Claire, Mr. Barrett's people said there are problems with the contract terms. He wants you to go revise them in person."

The department head looked at me like I was a spectacle. "Mr. Barrett specifically asked for you by name. Don't screw this up, or the whole company will be drinking the northwest wind because of you."

I picked up the document, my fingertips trembling slightly. "Understood."

What had to come would come.

I took a taxi to Barrett Corporation headquarters.

The towering office building pierced the clouds. Just standing at its base, I could feel that suffocating pressure.

When the receptionist heard my name, her expression subtly changed.

"Miss Davis, the CEO is in a meeting. He asked you to wait in the lounge."

That wait lasted a full four hours.

From morning until afternoon, without even a cup of water offered.

I knew he was doing it on purpose.

He was grinding down my spirit, crushing my dignity bit by bit.

It wasn't until sunset that the assistant finally sauntered over. "Miss Davis, Mr. Barrett has finished his business. You may go in now."

I pushed open the heavy mahogany door to the CEO's office.

The spacious office was frigidly air-conditioned.

Damien sat in his executive chair by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back to me, reviewing a report.

The setting sun's afterglow bathed him in golden light, but it couldn't melt the chill surrounding him.

"Mr. Barrett."

I walked over and placed the documents on his desk. "Regarding the contract revisions..."

"Who told you to sit down?"

He turned around and coldly interrupted me.

My movements froze. I silently straightened up.

Damien casually closed the report and leaned forward, those intensely aggressive eyes locking onto me.

"I heard you need money badly?"

I didn't understand why he was suddenly asking this, but I nodded honestly. "Yes."

"How much do you need?"

"...Five hundred thousand." That was the cost of my grandmother's next surgery.

Damien let out a scoff, pulled open his drawer, took out a check, and pushed it in front of me.

I saw the number clearly.

One million dollars.

Exactly the amount I had "accepted" to leave him years ago.

"What does this mean?" I stared at the check, my heartbeat skipping.

Damien stood up and walked around the desk to stand before me.

He raised his hand, his slender fingers hooking a strand of my hair, twirling it absently.

The gesture was intimate, but his tone was venomous.

"Claire, Natalie is pregnant. It's inconvenient for me."

My mind exploded with a deafening roar.

What did he mean?

Damien lowered his head, his warm breath spraying against my ear as he said words that plunged me into an icy abyss.

"Be my mistress."

"This million dollars buys you for a year."

"However you sold yourself back then, that's how you'll sell yourself back to me now."

Claire's POV

Slap.

The crisp sound of the slap echoed through the empty office.

My palm stung, my chest heaving violently as I stared in disbelief at the man before me.

Damien's face turned to one side, five red finger marks quickly rising on his pale skin.

He ran his tongue over his cheek, then slowly turned his head back.

There was no anger in his eyes-instead, there was a frightening kind of madness.

"You hit me?"

He advanced step by step, backing me against the floor-to-ceiling window with no escape.

"Damien Barrett, you bastard!"

I cursed with reddened eyes. "I have a boyfriend! I won't be a homewrecker! And I definitely won't be your mistress!"

"Boyfriend?"

Damien looked like he'd heard the funniest joke. "Ashton Reid? You think he'd actually want a woman as tainted as you?"

"That's my business!"

I tried to push past him and run, but he grabbed my wrist and pinned me hard against the cold glass window.

Behind me was the city nightscape from thousands of feet up; before me was a man as dangerous as a beast.

"Claire, stop pretending to be virtuous."

Damien stared into my eyes, his voice hoarse. "Three years ago you could abandon me for money. Now what's so hard about being a mistress for money? Isn't money your only bottom line?"

"I didn't!"

I screamed, breaking down. "Back then I had my reasons..."

"Reasons?"

Damien sneered. "What reasons? Was it your gambling addict father who owed debts, or was your sickly mother about to die again?"

"Shut up! Don't you dare talk about my mother!"

I struggled desperately, tears finally spilling from my eyes.

He had no idea.

Three years ago, that gambling father hadn't just owed debts-he'd owed lives.

Those people held knives to my mother's throat, forcing me to come up with money.

And Damien at that time-because he refused an arranged marriage for my sake-had been cut off financially by the Barrett family. He couldn't even afford fever medicine without borrowing money.

What choice did I have?

Tell him the truth and make him beg the father he hated most? Make him spend his whole life unable to hold his head up in front of his father?

I couldn't do it.

So I took the million dollars Natalie offered, played that scene, and became the villain.

"Hit the nail on the head, did I?"

Seeing my tears, a flash of satisfaction crossed Damien's eyes, mixed with an indescribable pain.

He released me and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his fingers with disgust.

"Take the money or don't-I don't care."

"But let me remind you, your grandmother's hospital happens to be funded by Barrett Corporation."

My head snapped up, my whole body shaking. "What do you want to do?"

Damien stuffed the check into my collar, the cold paper against my skin like a venomous snake.

"Tomorrow night at eight. Hillside Villa."

"If you don't come, face the consequences."

With that, he pressed the intercom. "Show her out."

I don't know how I walked out of Barrett Corporation headquarters.

Outside, the rain was still falling.

I clutched that crumpled check and crouched by the roadside, sobbing.

My phone rang at that moment.

It was the hospital calling.

"Miss Davis, please come to the hospital as soon as possible. Your grandmother's condition has deteriorated. She needs surgery immediately. Please pay the fees as soon as possible."

Despair wrapped around me like a giant net, strangling me.

I looked at the million dollars in my hand.

Dignity, or my grandmother's life?

This wasn't even a choice.

Damien Barrett, you win.

You've finally trampled me into the mud and turned me into exactly the kind of woman "who'll do anything for money" that you accused me of being.

If this is the revenge you want,

Then I'll give it to you.

Claire's POV

Hillside Villa.

This place was once the future Damien and I had fantasized about.

Back then we'd huddled in our tiny rental room, pointing at mansions in magazines. He said when he made money, he'd definitely buy one with floor-to-ceiling windows so I could draw while basking in the sun every day.

Now he'd actually bought one.

But it had become a cage to imprison me.

At eight o'clock sharp, I rang the doorbell.

Damien himself opened the door.

He'd just showered, wearing only a bathrobe. Water droplets slid down his sculpted chest muscles and disappeared into his trim V-line.

His black hair hung damply over his forehead, less sharp than usual, more wildly attractive in a way that made hearts race and faces flush.

But I only felt cold.

"Come in." He stepped aside, his expression dark and unreadable.

I changed my shoes and stood awkwardly in the entryway. The living room was cavernously large, decorated in minimalist black, white, and gray, emanating a forbidding coldness.

"Go shower."

Damien sat on the sofa, lit a cigarette, and pointed upstairs. "The master bedroom is on the left. Clean yourself thoroughly."

That tone-like he was instructing someone on how to handle a newly purchased pet.

I bit my lower lip, my nails digging into my palms. "Mr. Barrett, I've already cashed the check. I paid my grandmother's surgery fees."

"So?" He raised an eyebrow. Through the cigarette smoke, those eyes were sharp as a hawk's.

"So... I'll fulfill my promise."

I took a deep breath and turned to go upstairs, as if marching to my execution.

The bathroom was large. In the mirror, I looked deathly pale, like a fragile porcelain doll.

I turned on the shower. Hot water poured down, but it couldn't warm my body.

When I came out after bathing, a silk slip nightgown lay on the bed.

Extremely short. Extremely sheer.

Even that damn color was the light purple I used to love most.

He did it on purpose.

He was reminding me that I used to wear similar things in front of him too-back then for romance, now for transaction.

I changed into the nightgown and hugged my arms, curling up at the foot of the bed.

The door opened.

Damien walked in.

He stubbed out his cigarette, his gaze traveling over my body inch by inch-that kind of look burning enough to make one panic.

"Come here." He patted the space beside him.

I stiffly moved over.

The moment I got close, he yanked me into his arms. The strong scent of tobacco mixed with body wash instantly enveloped me.

"Why are you shaking?"

He gripped my chin, his thumb rough as it rubbed across my lips. "Four years ago when you demanded your breakup fee, weren't you pretty tough?"

"Damien..."

"Call me Mr. Barrett."

He coldly corrected me, then lowered his head and kissed me brutally.

This wasn't a kiss.

It was biting, punishment, venting.

That night, rain fell outside the entire time.

And I died the entire time.