I Forgot You On Purpose

Kennedy, cut the act! Dakota is a cellist. Her hands are her career. So I pulled her out first. Is that a crime?

That was the man I loved. The man I wasted six years on.

When the earthquake hit, he didn't hesitate. He threw himself over his childhood sweetheart. He left me pinned under a slab of concrete, screaming into the dust until my voice gave out.

Day two in the ICU? He was already on a plane. Chasing her for her international tour.

When he finally remembered I existed and bothered to show up, he reached for my hand.

I smiled. A polite, hollow smile. I pulled my fingers away from his grip.

"Sir, please have some respect. Do we know each other?"

Chapter 1

I woke up to the smell of disinfectant and Tessa glaring at me like she wanted to start a fight.

"Look who finally decided to join the living," she snapped. "Ms. Kennedy, back from the brink. You really have a death wish, don't you? And for what? A man?"

What man?

My brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton. I blinked at her. Tessa took my silence for stubbornness.

"Kennedy, I'm serious. Enough is enough. Landon isn't worth it. You almost died for him! And where is he?" She gestured wildly at the empty room. "He's in Europe. Comforting his precious little obsession."

Tessas voice cracked. The anger drained out of her, replaced by something raw and terrified.

She grabbed my hand. Her grip was tight, desperate. Hot tears splashed onto my skin.

"Kennedy, you flatlined. You actually flatlined. Please I'm begging you. Stop chasing Landon. He's going to kill you."

Was she rehearsing for a murder mystery dinner? She was being so dramatic.

"Tessa, what are you talking about?" I asked, genuinely confused. "Who is Landon? Is he an NPC?"

Tessas grief froze. Her mouth formed a perfect 'O'.

I thought she didn't hear me, so I asked again.

Panic flashed in her eyes. She slammed her hand on the nurse call button.

Doctors swarmed the room. Penlights in my eyes. Monitors beeping. Cognitive tests.

The verdict: Selective Amnesia.

The doctor explained it in a monotone voice. My brain had engaged a defense mechanism. It deleted the trauma to protect itself.

"She might never remember," the doctor said. "Or it could all come back tomorrow."

Tessa spent the next hour pacing the room, cursing Landons name.

"So Landon was my boyfriend?" I asked.

The name made my chest tighten. A phantom ache. But my brain offered nothing. No images. No feelings.

Logic kicked in. If my brain decided to erase him, he couldn't have been a prize.

I sat back and listened as Tessa filled in the blanks. She laid out the history of my pathetic behavior. The years I spent letting this guy walk all over me.

Specifically, this last trip.

Landon and I went out of town on business. The earthquake hit.

"I don't know the details," Tessa spat, pacing the floor. "Landon claims he pulled you out of the rubble. Bullshit. If he saved you, why is he in Paris with Dakota right now? Why aren't you his priority?"

She scoffed.

"Toxic trash."

Chapter 2

It didnt take a genius to read the room. Tessa hated this guys guts.

Theres a universal Girl Code: If your best friend hates him, hes a walking red flag.

"If you don't like him," I said, "then I don't like him."

The words barely left my mouth when the door swung open.

A man filled the frame.

He was objectively attractivetall, with a jawline sharp enough to cut glass and deep-set eyes. But he looked wrecked. Exhaustion hung off him like a cheap coat.

The second he saw me, his lip curled into a sneer.

"Kennedy. Look at you. You look perfectly healthy. Drop the amnesia act. Its getting old."

Who the hell is this?

I shot Tessa a confused look.

She didn't hold back. "Landon. Surprised you showed up. Why didn't you just wait until she was dead?"

Dead? I blinked. A bit extreme, isn't it?

Then it clicked.

This was Landon. The boyfriend.

I scanned my brain, desperate for a file, a photo, a feeling.

Nothing. Error 404.

I looked at the man standing at the foot of my bed and waited for a spark. A flutter. Anything.

My heart beat with a steady, boring rhythm. He was a stranger in an expensive suit.

Landon walked to the bedside. He sigheda sound heavy with performative patienceand reached for my hand.

My skin crawled. I instinctively tried to pull away.

"Kennedy, stop punishing me," he said, tightening his grip. "I know I shouldn't have pulled Dakota out first. But shes a cellist. Her hands are her life. If she gets injured, her career is over. Look at youyoure alive. Youre fine. Can we please stop this tantrum?"

I stared at him, genuinely baffled.

I wanted to tell him I wasn't acting. I wasn't "making a scene."

Thanks to Tessas rant earlier, I had the cliff notes.

I used to be obsessed with this man. I was the Kennedy heiress who cut ties with her wealthy family to help him build his startup from a garage into an empire.

And Dakota? The "childhood sweetheart." The "little sister."

The girl who tagged along on our business trip, got lost in a rural village, and dragged us into the earthquake zone in the first place.

When the ground opened up, Landon saved her.

While I was unconscious in the ICU, he was on a flight to Europe to hold her hand during her tour.

He only just bothered to show up.

And his first move was to accuse me of faking brain damage for attention.

Whatever polite curiosity I had for him evaporated.

"Mr. Landon, right? I really don't know you." I yanked my hand out of his grip. "And please, keep your hands to yourself. Have some boundaries."

I reached for the pack of wet wipes on the nightstand. I pulled one out and deliberately, thoroughly, scrubbed the skin where he had touched me.

The gesture hit him like a physical slap.

Landons arrogance cracked. Panic flickered in his eyes.

"Kennedy baby, don't be like this. I know I was wrong. I swear, from now on, you are my priority. Just you."

I frowned, saying nothing.

Tessa stepped between us, her voice dripping with venom.

"Landon, save it. How many times have you recited that script? Every time you hurt her, you pull this crap. Do you think Kennedy is still the same gullible idiot you can manipulate?"

I felt a flush of embarrassment heat my cheeks.

Wow.

Was I really that much of a doormat before?

Chapter 3

Click. Click. Click.

The sharp, rhythmic sound of stilettos echoed from the hallway.

The door pushed open to reveal the source: a petite woman in a pastel pink skirt suit that screamed "innocent victim."

Dakota.

She looked devastated. Her face was already wet with tears before she even crossed the threshold.

"Landon oh god, Landon" She burst into sobs. "This is all my fault. You shouldn't have saved me! I caused this fight between you and Kennedy. I'm so sorry! I'm so, so sorry!"

She punctuated every "sorry" with a deep, theatrical sob.

Big, perfectly timed teardrops splashed onto the floor. She looked like a fragile flower being crushed by the world.

Landon immediately shifted into protector mode. He shielded her with his body, using his thumb to gently wipe away her tears.

"Dakota, stop. This isn't on you. I chose to save you. You have nothing to apologize for."

Tessa was vibrating with rage. She stepped forward, her voice dripping with acid.

"Oh, absolutely. Not your fault at all. Who drives into the middle of nowhere at midnight and gets 'lost'? Does 911 not work on your phone? Since when is Landon the police? You just had to drag Kennedy into your mess. But sure, you're the victim."

I watched the woman cowering behind Landon.

Despite the waterworks and the trembling shoulders, I caught it.

A flicker of triumph in her eyes. A look of arrogance that flashed for just a second.

She looked at me, eyes wide and shimmering.

"I just I shouldn't have worried Landon. I didn't mean to drag you into this, Kennedy. Please, don't let this ruin your relationship. If you're angry, I'll get on my knees! I'll beg right here until you forgive me!"

She buckled her knees, sinking toward the floor.

Landon caught her just in time, hoisting her back up.

He spun on me, barking an order like I was an unruly employee.

"Kennedy! Don't be such a witch! She's apologizing to you. Accept it. Now."

Tessa stomped her foot, ready to throw hands. She didn't know how to handle this level of gaslighting.

I swung my legs off the bed.

I walked up to them calmly. My expression was blank.

Landons expression softened. A smug look crossed his face. He thought I was coming to make peace. He thought I was bending the knee.

SMACK.

My palm connected with Dakotas cheek.

Hard.

The sound ricocheted off the sterile white walls.

I shook out my stinging wrist.

"If you're so desperate to apologize, shouldn't the victim decide the price? There. One slap. Consider yourself forgiven. You can get up now."

Dakota froze. She touched her cheek, realized I actually hit her, and prepared to wail.

"Ah, ah," I interrupted, raising a finger. "Why are you crying? Wasn't your apology sincere? Or do you want to hit me back?"

She realized she was cornered. So, she played her ace.

Her eyes rolled back, and she went limp. A perfect, melodramatic faint. She flopped like a fish.

Landon lost it.

I quickly calculated the odds of winning a fistfight with him. Low to moderate.

"Kennedy! Are you insane? You're aggressive and vindictive! I knew ityou're faking this amnesia just to torture Dakota, aren't you?"

"Keep talking," I said, leaning casually against the bed frame. "If you don't drag your little childhood sweetheart out of here in three seconds, I'll wake her up with another slap."

Tessa stepped up beside me, arms crossed, looking like a bodyguard.

Landon scooped up the "unconscious" Dakota. His face was black with rage as he stormed out of the room.

Chapter 4

Once Landon stormed out, Tessa went into full detective mode.

She grilled me. Rapid-fire questions.

"Who was your third-grade teacher?"

"Mrs. Gable."

"The receptionist at the firm?"

"Betty. The one with the loud chewing."

She kept going. I remembered everyone. I remembered the startup Landon and I built from a garage into a high-rise. I remembered every contract, every late night, every IPO detail.

My brain had performed a surgical extraction. It cut out exactly one tumor: Landon.

For the next few days, the tumor didn't visit.

But my phone buzzed incessantly. Texts from an unsaved number.

[Unsaved Number]: Im letting it slide this time. But you need to apologize to Dakota.

[Unsaved Number]: Shes a public figure. A cellist. If you had scratched her face, the PR nightmare would be on you. Youre lucky shes forgiving.

[Unsaved Number]: Just do it for me. Drop the amnesia act. Its childish. Do you hear me?

The audacity was almost impressive.

Where did he get this confidence? Did he think he was the last man on Earth?

I didn't bother replying. Block contact.

Boredom is a dangerous thing in a hospital bed. I opened TikTok and searched "Dakota."

The algorithm fed me vomit-inducing content immediately.

#LandonAndDakota #CelloPrincess #Soulmates #IntellectualCoupleGoals

I scrolled. It was a shrine to their "friendship."

Then, masochism kicked in. I searched "Kennedy and Landon."

Complete dumpster fire.

Grainy paparazzi photos. Headlines like "Heiress Kennedy Clings to CEO," or "Is Kennedy Ruining the Landon-Dakota Vibe?"

The comment section was a war zone.

"She's so toxic."

"Pick-me girl energy."

"Let him be with his soulmate!"

I clicked on the profiles. No followers. Default profile pics.

Bots. Paid trolls.

I stared at the screen. I was the actual girlfriend. Yet he was out there letting the internet paint me as the villain while he played house with his "little sister."

Trash. Absolute trash.

On the day of my discharge, Tessa gripped my shoulders like a coach before the Super Bowl.

"Listen to me. Do not get soft. You forgot him for a reason. Dump the dead weight. I will find you ten upgrades by tonight."

I saluted her. "Aye, aye, Captain. My requirements: Six-foot-two. Six-pack abs. And barely legal."

I took a cab to the penthouse I apparently lived in.

My fingers moved automatically on the keypad. Beep. Click.

I pushed the door open.

And froze.

I checked the number on the door. No, this was my place.

So why were they playing "Happy Family" in my kitchen?

Landon was wearing an apron. My apron. He was stirring something on the stove. Dakota was hovering right next to him, her body pressed against his arm, giggling at something in the pan.

If I hadn't entered the code myself, I would have thought I broke into a stranger's house.

Landon heard the door click. He spun around.

Dakota jumped back as if shed been burned. She smoothed her hair, feigning panic.

"Kennedy! You're you're back early!"

She glanced at Landon, then back at me, cheeks flushed.

"Don't get the wrong idea! Landon was just teaching me how to make risotto. We weren't doing anything!"

The air in the room was thick with guilt. It smelled like expensive cologne and lies.

Landon frowned at her clumsy explanation but didn't correct her.

If they weren't sleeping together, Id eat my Louboutins.

Technically, this was the part where I should scream. I should throw a vase. I should cry. My boyfriend was playing house with another woman in our shared home.

But I checked my pulse.

Steady. Calm.

My chest felt hollow. No pain. No jealousy. Just a mild annoyance, like finding a fly in my soup.

They looked so comfortable. So practiced. This wasn't the first cooking lesson.

"Oh, relax," I said, dropping my keys on the console table. The metal clattered loudly in the silence. "I'm just here to pack my bags. Don't let the risotto burn."

Chapter 5

It took me less than twenty minutes to pack.

That was the pathetic reality check. I looked around the penthouse, and it was 80% Landon. His bespoke suits took up the walk-in closet. His awards lined the shelves. His expensive hobbies cluttered the living room.

My entire life fit into a single Rimowa carry-on.

I didn't hear him approach. He moved like a ghost.

One second I was zipping the suitcase, the next, a shadow loomed over me.

I jumped, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Landon stood there, staring. His eyes were dark, tracking my every move. As I tried to brush past him, his hand shot out.

He gripped my arm. Hard.

"Kennedy, are you done with this show yet?"

He yanked me closer, invading my personal space.

"Dakota was right. If you really had amnesia, how did you remember the door code? How did you know to come here?" He didn't wait for an answer. He just pivoted to his favorite topic: justifying his sins.

"You know the situation. I didn't abandon you on purpose. Dakota has played the cello since she was four. If her hands were crushed if her career ended because of me I couldn't live with that guilt."

I looked at him, and the absurdity hit me like a physical blow.

I almost died. She almost lost a gig.

Priorities, right?

"Mr. Landon," I said, my voice ice cold. "Whether I have amnesia or not is irrelevant. There is a universal rule: you ghost me for three days, we're done. You ghosted me to tour Europe with another woman."

I pried his fingers off my arm, one by one.

"Anyone with eyes can see what's going on between you and Dakota. Im not interested in being the third wheel in my own relationship. Were done. Lets keep it civil."

I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and walked out.

Landon stood frozen in the hallway, stunned that his script wasn't working.

Just as the elevator doors began to slide shut, he let out a cold, arrogant scoff.

"Fine! We're done! But don't you dare come crawling back begging for forgiveness, Kennedy! Don't you dare regret this!"

I took an Uber straight to Tessas place.

When I finished recapping the showdown, Tessa looked at me like a proud mother watching her kid graduate.

"Finally," she exhaled. "The trash took itself out."

Then, her expression darkened. Reality set in.

"Wait. You broke up with him but what about the company? You built that place from the ground up. Are you just going to hand it over to him and that little homewrecker?"

I poured myself a glass of water. "Of course not. Business is business. Feelings are feelings. Im not mixing them."

The next morning, I walked into the office in four-inch stilettos and a suit that cost more than Landons car.

I had barely sat down when Robin, my secretary, shuffled in.

She looked terrified. Beads of sweat were actually visible on her forehead. She placed a file on my desk with trembling hands.

"Sign this?" she squeaked.

I flipped it open.

Endorsement Deal: Dakota.

I scanned the terms. My eyebrows shot up.

"Ten million? For a cellist?"

Robin flinched. "It it was Mr. Landon's order. He said it just needs your signature. It's a formality."

I laughed. A dry, humorless sound.

"Has he lost his mind? For this price point, I could sign an A-list Hollywood actress. I could get someone with actual market influence."

I slammed the folder shut.

"Tell him no. Rejected. The ROI is nonexistent."

Robins eyes went wide. She looked like shed seen a ghost.

Apparently, the "Old Kennedy" would have signed over her soul if Landon asked nicely. The staff was used to me being a doormat.

Not anymore.

Twenty minutes later, my office door flew open.

Dakota stormed in. No knock. No appointment.

She was already crying. Of course.

"Kennedy! Please!" She rushed to my desk, hands clasped in a prayer position. "Please don't let your personal anger ruin my career! You have to separate business and personal feelings!"

The audacity.

She was lecturing me on professionalism?

She knew exactly what she was doing. Dakota wasn't a star. Her "fanbase" was 50% bots bought by Landons marketing team, and the other 50% were people with zero purchasing power.

Commercially speaking? I wouldn't pay her minimum wage to hold a sign.

"Kennedy," she sniffled, wiping a tear that I was 90% sure was fake. "My fans already know I'm the new face of the company. If you cancel it now what will they think? Landon is going to be so angry if he finds out you're being vindictive."

I leaned back in my leather chair.

She came in here crying, but every word out of her mouth was a threat.

Sign the check, or Daddy Landon gets mad.

Chapter 6

She looked at me like Landons mood swings were a natural disaster I should be terrified of.

"Dakota, let's get one thing straight. Landons feelings? Irrelevant. This is business. That is personal. And frankly, you should know your place."

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk.

"You spent a fortune marketing yourself as a 'Genius Cellist.' Did you start believing your own press releases?"

Her eyes widened.

"I could spend ten million dollars on a Golden Retriever and get a better Return on Investment than I would with you."

I didn't let up.

"Have some self-awareness. Without Landon propping you up, do you really think you'd even have the clearance to walk into this office?"

Dakotas mask slipped.

For a split second, her face twisted into pure, ugly rage. She glared at me, her eyes burning.

Then, snap.

The mask was back.

She dropped into a squat, burying her face in her hands. Shoulders shaking. Sobs echoing. A perfect performance of a broken woman.

Here it comes.

SLAM.

The office door banged against the wall.

Landon stormed in, right on cue. He looked from the weeping Dakota to me, his face contorted with self-righteous fury.

"Kennedy! What the hell are you doing?"

He rushed to Dakota, but his eyes were locked on me.

"First you fake amnesia. Then you threaten a breakup to manipulate me. Now you're blocking Dakota's contract and verbally abusing her? Since when did you become so toxic?"

Toxic?

I almost laughed. The projection was strong with this one.

"Landon, if you're delusional, go see a therapist. I run a business, not a rehabilitation center for your ego."

I stood up, matching his glare.

"You know exactly where her 'fans' came from. You bought them. Those 'sold-out' shows in Europe? Half the seats were empty, and the other half were paid seat-fillers. I don't care who you sleep with, but do not use this company's future to spoil your mistress."

Landon froze. His jaw dropped.

"How how did you know that?"

"It's my name on the accounts, Landon. I see the statements."

Dakota, realizing the narrative was slipping, wailed louder. She fell to her knees, grasping at Landons pant leg.

"Stop! Please, don't fight because of me! I don't want the endorsement! I don't want any of it!"

I looked down at her.

"Make no mistake, Dakota. It's not that you don't want it. It's that I won't approve it. You have zero commercial value. You aren't worth the ink on the contract."

Landon snapped. His face turned a deep shade of red.

"Kennedy! Don't forget who owns this place! This company is mine! It is not your dictatorship!"

From the floor, hidden by Landons legs, Dakota looked up at me.

She smirked.

She mouthed three silent words: You. Never. Win.

"Fine," I said.

I unclipped my security pass.

I threw it onto the desk. It slid across the mahogany surface and stopped right in front of Landon.

"Then I quit."

The silence in the room was deafening.

Landons anger evaporated, replaced by cold panic.

He knew. He knew he was the face, but I was the brain. The company could survive without him. It would crumble in a week without me.

"Kennedy wait. That's not I didn't mean it like that."

I cut him off. "Ms. Kennedy. And yes, you did. We have a strictly professional relationship now. Or rather, we have no relationship."

Landon looked at the badge, then at me. He was cornered.

He turned to Dakota.

"Dakota Kennedy is right about the business side. I didn't think the endorsement through. You should go home."

Dakota gasped. Betrayal flashed across her face. She shot me one last hateful glare, scrambled to her feet, and ran out of the office in a flood of tears.

"Mr. Landon," I said, gesturing to the door. "You can leave now."

He didn't move.

He was staring at the trash can next to my desk.

His pupils contracted. His face went pale.

"Kennedy" His voice was a strangled whisper. "You threw away the Rubik's Cube?"

I glanced down. There it was, resting on top of a discarded coffee cup.

"Yeah? So what? I've never liked puzzles. It was clutter."

Landons head snapped up. He stared at me, searching my face for a lie