Chapter 8: The Encounter

After I'd worked for a year, Natalie started letting me follow Amanda to negotiate projects.

Amanda had a no-nonsense attitude and the best collection of statement earrings I’d ever seen. She took me under her wing like a little sister.

Amanda is three years younger than me, a project manager, and has a great personality.

She wore her hair in a curly puff and always had a joke ready. Her laugh was contagious—she made the whole team lighter.

She speaks gently and takes care of me. After finishing work, she'd buy herself a coffee downstairs and get me an ice cream.

She handed me a cone from Big Gay Ice Cream, rainbow sprinkles and all. On warm days, we’d sit on a bench outside, watching the city bustle while I demolished a waffle cone.

I ate my ice cream happily. Amanda laughed, "Ms. Evans says you're twenty-nine, but I don't believe it. Jess, you're just a kid—the hardworking, sweet kind."

She nudged me, grinning, and I felt genuinely seen for the first time in ages.

I thought for a moment and told her seriously, "Actually, I already have two kids."

I expected her to laugh, but she just looked at me, eyebrow raised.

"Don't lie to me. We've worked together for over a year, I've never seen your husband."

She sipped her iced latte, watching me with amused skepticism.

"Divorced."

"Girl, you look like a college student."

"Hmm... Actually, I'm a young woman."

Amanda was stunned, didn't believe me. I laughed. Honestly, I didn't really believe it either.

It was easier to play along than to explain the whole amnesia thing. Some days, I barely believed my own story.

I'd just finished the SATs—how could I be twenty-nine?

I shrugged, slurping the last of my ice cream. It was like living in someone else's skin.

But I'd been well cared for these past two years, so I did look young.

Amanda once joked that money was the best skincare secret. I couldn’t disagree.

When I first got divorced, I was in rough shape, looking haggard. But maybe money really does nurture people.

I remembered seeing old photos of myself in the hospital—dark circles, brittle hair. The woman in the mirror now looked nothing like her.

After being discharged from the hospital, Natalie took me to all sorts of skincare treatments, and said I was too weak, so she signed me up for a self-defense class.

We got facials in SoHo—cucumber slices over our eyes, gossiping about celebrity breakups. The self-defense class was taught by a retired NYPD officer named Carla. She didn’t take excuses from anyone.

My eighteen-year-old self always listened to Natalie. She said go east, I'd never go west.

I sometimes wondered if I'd ever been this obedient before the accident, or if it was just that I trusted Natalie so much now.

She said self-defense, so I didn't sign up for taekwondo.

Instead, we did Krav Maga. The first class, I thought my arms would fall off, but it felt good to be strong again.

We hired a housekeeper to make nutritious meals. With good care, I got better and better.

The housekeeper, Rosa, made homemade chicken soup and left Post-It notes with smiley faces on the fridge. Natalie swore by her veggie lasagna.

Because I'd lost my memory, I had no worries, had money, didn't need to work, could eat and sleep as I pleased. Those months, even my hair got thicker.

Amanda joked I could be the before-and-after model for a wellness ad. For once, I didn’t mind.

Actually, I've been pretty happy this past year or so, having forgotten all the messy memories of the past ten years.

It was like pressing reset on my life—a second shot I never expected.

With the mind of an eighteen-year-old, I learned all kinds of things without pressure, and Natalie was always there to support and guide me.

She encouraged me to try pottery, salsa dancing, even improv classes. I laughed more than I had in years.

But maybe even fate couldn't stand me being so comfortable.

That day, at the place Amanda took me to discuss a partnership, I met a man.

That day, Amanda's meeting was confidential, so I couldn't go.

She winked at me, promising she’d be quick, and left me in a cozy coffee shop on the first floor. I claimed a corner booth, ordered a triple-scoop sundae, and cracked open my book.

The hum of espresso machines and the sweet scent of caramel made it easy to lose myself for a while.

Halfway through reading, I felt someone watching me. I looked up. There was a man in a suit, brow furrowed.

He looked out of place among the students and freelancers typing away. The intensity of his gaze made my heart thud.

He stared at me. I was stunned. He looked familiar, but I couldn't remember who he was.

There was a flicker of something behind his eyes—anger? Regret? I shivered, unsure.

Later, after Amanda finished her meeting, I took the coffee I'd bought in advance to find her.

I juggled the paper cup and a napkin full of biscotti, glancing around for Amanda’s familiar head of curls.

When I passed that man, I heard him say, "Pretending not to know me?"

He said it out of nowhere. I glanced at him, didn't care, and walked out with the coffee.

My skin prickled, but I kept moving, refusing to engage. If I’d learned anything from Natalie, it was how to hold my head high.

But the man followed me out. "Jessica Carter, you're not even going to say hi when we meet?"

His voice carried in the hall. I stopped, turned, feeling Amanda’s presence suddenly at my side.

I turned around. Amanda also turned with me.

When Amanda saw the man, she smiled, "Mr. Pierce, long time no see."

Her tone was all business, but there was a chill to it—a warning not to step out of line.

Derek ignored Amanda, staring at me.

He looked like he wanted to say a hundred things but settled on scorn instead.

I looked at the man. Mr. Pierce? Could it be... Derek Pierce?

My mind scrambled to make sense of it. It felt like standing at the edge of a stage, not knowing my lines.

I whispered to Amanda, "Is that Derek Pierce?"

"Yeah, CEO of Pierce Group. You know him?"

Her whisper was careful, as if she expected fireworks.

"...Yeah, seems like he's my... ex-husband..."

Amanda was stunned, looked at me, then at Derek, then back at me. Natalie’s mouth fell open. She blinked twice, like she was buffering.

She mouthed "seriously?" but I just shrugged helplessly.

Derek stared at me. I thought for a moment, then reached out my hand. "Hello."

I kept my handshake professional, channeling every etiquette video I’d watched that year.

Derek didn't shake my hand. He looked at me, his eyes full of contempt and mockery. "Jessica Carter, I really overestimated you. I thought you were a good mother. In court, you fought so hard for Max and Lily, but after taking the money, you never even looked at them... Good thing I didn't give you the kids. Someone like you, how could you be a mother."

My stomach flipped. I searched my memory for a single birthday, a single lullaby. Nothing. His words stung, but they slid off me like rain on a raincoat. I searched my mind for memories of my kids and came up empty.

"Jessica Carter, you'd better come back this weekend, or you'll never see Max and Lily again in your life."

The threat hung in the air, as heavy as a summer thunderstorm. He spun on his heel, leaving Amanda and me in the wake of his cologne and bad attitude.

Derek left, leaving only a confused Amanda and a pensive me.

Amanda just shook her head, whispering, "Girl, your ex is a piece of work."