I Forgot Everything Except How To Destroy You

The accident killed my daughter and erased my memory. That's what they told me. That's what I let them believe. I remember everything. The brake order my husband signed two weeks before the crash. The way he practiced his grief in the bathroom mirror. The mistress who answers his phone when he thinks I'm asleep. Daniel thinks he's bringing home a broken woman who can't remember what he did. He's bringing home the person who will take everything he has. His career. His reputation. His freedom. "You seem different," he says, watching me across the dinner table. I smile the way a woman smiles when she's already counting down. "I'm just trying to remember." He doesn't know about the files I found. The investigator I'm feeding evidence to. The twelve weeks I have before he becomes untouchable. I forgot everything except how to destroy you. And I remember every single step.