Page 76 of “Not” Engaged to the Grumpy Billionaire

“Liz, it’s me,” I say, my voice tight. “I… I just wanted to check in. To see if you’re okay.”

I pause, the words catching in my throat. “Please call me back.”

I hang up, the silence of the office pressing down on me like a weight.

By the end of the day, I feel like I’m unraveling. Liz is gone, and no matter how much I pretend it’s for the best, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve made a terrible mistake.

I glance at the stack of papers on my desk, my frustration bubbling to the surface. It’s all Becky’s fault. If she hadn’t come back, if she hadn’t thrown everything into chaos…

But even as I think it, something feels off.

I replay the past few days in my mind, every interaction, every conversation. Becky’s smiles, her tears, her carefully chosen words.

It’s like she’s playing a role, her actions too calculated, too perfect.

I grab my phone, scrolling through my call history until I find the hospital’s number.

“Hello, this is Nate Kingston. I’d like to speak to Dr. Michaels about Becky Kingston’s condition.”

The receptionist puts me on hold, and I pace the office, my mind racing.

When the doctor finally picks up, his tone is polite but professional. “Mr. Kingston, what can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to clarify something,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “About Becky’s memory loss. Are you absolutely sure it’s amnesia?”

There’s a pause, and then the doctor speaks carefully. “Amnesia can be complex, Mr. Kingston. It’s not uncommon for patients to experience selective memory loss after a traumatic event.”

“But is there any way to know for sure?” I press.

“Well, there are tests we can run,” he says. “But it’s also possible that some of her behavior is… psychological.”

I clench my jaw, my suspicions growing. Becky’s been manipulating me for years. Why would now be any different?

I hang up, my mind made up.

Liz might be gone, but I’m not letting Becky destroy what’s left of my life. It’s time to take control, to figure out the truth once and for all.

But even as I make the decision, my thoughts drift back to Liz—her smile, her laugh, the way she makes everything feel lighter.

She’s gone, but she’s still everywhere.

And I don’t know how to let her go.

***

The house feels too quiet when I step through the door. Not the peaceful kind of quiet that settles in after a long day, but the kind that presses down on you, making every creak of the floorboards sound like a warning.

Sue picked Max up at school, planning to give him up a treat. She sees how the presence of Becky is affecting him as well. Bless her!

Boomer is curled up lazily in a corner of the living room, and Becky is nowhere to be seen. My chest tightens as I glance around, the silence amplifying the unease I’ve been carrying all day.

I need to talk to Becky. Now.

The plan is simple—get her to the hospital under the pretense of a checkup and push for more tests. Something doesn’t sit right with me, and I can’t let it slide any longer.

But as I climb the stairs, my steps are slow. A faint voice filters down the hallway, muffled but unmistakably hers. I pause outside the master bedroom, the door ajar just enough for her words to drift through.

“I told you I’d handle it,” Becky’s voice says, sharp and low. “He’s completely buying it. The accident, the memory loss—all of it.”

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