“My parents and I came to visit you, ma’am,” a sweet, childlike voice said.
I had a bandage wrapped around my forehead. I then looked down at my five-year-old son, Julian Palmer. He was smiling mischievously with both his hands held by two adults.
Yohan Palmer, well-dressed and standing by the side, seemed to have no intention of correcting Julian’s way of addressing me. Instead, he was looking at me with a hint of curiosity.
The woman, whose hand Julian held, was dressed in a long, white dress. She had an elegant and gentle air, yet she was nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear under my scrutiny.
Yohan noticed the way I was staring at Emily Walker. He then stood protectively in front of her.
If I truly had lost my memories, I might actually believe that these people before me were a loving family of three.
Julian tugged at Yohan’s hand and whispered, “Since Mommy lost her memories, does that mean you guys can get a divorce now, Daddy?”
Although he was whispering, he was loud enough for me to hear him.
I knew this was one of Julian’s tricks. He was punishing me for scolding and embarrassing him in front of the household staff yesterday. He was upset about it.
This was just another of his usual pranks—he took pleasure in punishing me. But I no longer wanted to play along with his pranks.
Since I claimed to have lost my memories, I would just keep up my act and pretend that I didn’t have a son and a husband.
“Excuse me, but who are you people?” I asked.
