Valentine With The Amnesia Alpha

San Fransicso :

Daniella hated the holiday season, not for its cheer, but for the memories it dragged up, each one sharper than a shard of ice. The jingling bells, the garish lights, and the sight of couples holding hands were like nails on her soul.

Every holiday seemed cursed, each one a cruel reminder of all she had lost.

Two years ago, her life had come crashing down in a single night.

It had been a lavish gala at Lawson & Partner a celebration of the firm's successful year. Brandon, her fiancé, the golden boy of the Lawson family, had been at her side, his arm draped protectively around her waist as they worked the room. She had smiled, nodded, laughed at all the right moments, her role as his perfect partner meticulously played.

But as the night stretched on, Brandon disappeared. At first, Daniella thought nothing of it. The gala was large, and Brandon was a natural at schmoozing, always moving from one conversation to the next. She'd even teased herself for missing him after only a few minutes.

Then twenty minutes passed. Then thirty.

She glanced around the grand hall, her unease growing with every sweep of the crowd. Finally, unable to suppress the gnawing worry in her chest, she decided to check his office upstairs.

The building was quieter than she'd expected, her heels clicking against the marble floors as she made her way to the familiar office corridor. She saw the faint glow of light under his door and quickened her pace, relief washing over her. But then she heard it.

A moan. Low, unmistakable, and intimate.

Daniella froze, her heart lurching.

"Oh, Brandon, faster," a woman's voice purred.

Her blood ran cold.

Then came Brandon's voice, rough and breathless. "Alana, you're so tight."

The floor beneath Daniella seemed to sway. Her breath hitched as the words slammed into her chest like a wrecking ball. She wanted to turn back, to walk away and preserve the fragile illusion that this wasn't happening, but her feet moved forward, propelled by rage and betrayal. Her hand gripped the doorknob, twisted it, and flung the door open with a force that made it slam against the wall.

There they were.

Brandon, shirtless and disheveled, was tangled with Alana—her best friend and secretary—on his desk. Alana's dress was bunched at her hips, her legs wrapped around him in a scene so intimate, so raw, that Daniella felt bile rise in her throat

"Brandon?" she choked out, her voice barely a whisper.

He turned, his eyes widening with horror as he scrambled to cover himself. Alana made no such effort. She sat there, perched on the edge of the desk, draped only in the fabric that used to lie against Daniella's own skin.

"Daniella, I...." Brandon stammered, his face contorting between guilt and anger, as if she were the one at fault

"Save it," she spat, her voice raw and shaking. "Both of you. How long?" Alana's eyes met hers without a flicker of remorse. She crossed her arms over her chest, tilted her chin up. "Since summer," she said simply, as if it were no more significant than a casual announcement about the weather. Daniella felt the words sink into her like cold steel, each syllable another twist of the knife in her chest. They had been lying to her, laughing behind her back for months. All the dinners, the weekends, the endless hours we've spent together. It was all a lie.

"Get out of here before I tell your father you've been fucking around in the office," she hissed, her voice brittle with fury. But neither of them moved. Her voice rose, sharp and commanding. "I said, get out!"

Brandon finally gathered his clothes, fumbling as he did so. He opened his mouth to speak, but Daniella shook her head sharply. She didn't want to hear a single excuse, a single explanation. Nothing he could say would make up for this. And yet, she couldn't tear her eyes away from his face, the face she'd once adored, a face she'd imagined growing old with. She stood there, numb, until they left, the silence swallowing her as she sank to her knees in the middle of the cold, empty office. She had never felt so alone.

Two years later, the memory still seared her heart, as vivid and raw as that night. Every holiday since her childhood seemed to come with its own form of heartbreak, almost as if the universe had decided that joy wasn't for her. She thought back to Christmas when she was six, her parents driving down a snowy road to pick up gifts, a trip they'd planned to surprise her. They never made it back. A truck skidded on ice, and she'd been left alone in the world, handed over to an aunt who barely knew her. And later, her only source of comfort, her gray tabby cat, Muffin, died on Halloween. That cat had been the one constant, a reminder that something in her life could be safe, stable, loved. Until he was gone too. Maybe it's me, she had thought as she buried Muffin on a drizzly Halloween evening.

Maybe I'm cursed to lose everything I care about. But Brandon - Brandon had seemed different. He had been her partner in work and in life, the one person who truly understood her ambition, her drive. They had built their careers together at Lawson & Patner, the prestigious firm his father owned. He had promised her a future, a home, children. And she had let herself believe in those promises, had allowed herself to trust him completely.

Now, looking back, she couldn't understand how she hadn't seen it coming. The late nights he claimed to be working, the subtle shift in his behavior, the hollow look in his eyes when she spoke about the future. She had been so focused on her own work that she hadn't noticed him drifting, hadn't noticed her best friend lingering too long in her office after hours, her laughter a little too intimate, her gaze lingering too long. Daniella reached for the whiskey bottle on her kitchen counter, pouring herself another glass.

She had grown accustomed to drowning the ache, her nights blending together in a haze of bitterness and disappointment. She had made herself a vow: no more love, no more trust, and especially no more Christmas, new years and no more everything about holiday season. From now on, she would be the kind of woman who needed no one, who would succeed despite every obstacle, every betrayal. If the world wanted to strip her of joy, of love, then she would strip it of her need for any of those things. I don't need anyone, she told herself, feeling the fire of the whiskey settle in her chest. She repeated it, hoping that if she said it enough times, it would become true.

She would throw herself into her work, into the cases and the fights that filled her days, that kept her from feeling the hollowness in her heart. But as she looked out at the city from her window, the lights of the office buildings gleaming against the snow, she felt that familiar pang, the weight of another Christmas season she would have to endure alone. She thought of Brandon and Alana, probably celebrating together somewhere, and her chest tightened with anger and grief. Let them be happy together, she thought bitterly. She would rise above them both, would succeed beyond anything they could ever imagine. And maybe one day, maybe, she would forget them. In the quiet of her apartment, Daniella realized that this holiday, like so many before, would pass without cheer, without warmth, without anything resembling happiness. She would bear it, just as she had every other loss in her life, and she would emerge stronger, more resilient. But the scars of betrayal, of that night in her office, would never fade. And so, Daniella braced herself for another December alone, another holiday season that would pass in painful solitude.

The world could keep its Christmas carols, its cheerful couples, its promises of love and joy. She had no need for them. All she needed now was herself.