Forgotten

by Kristin Smith

  My back stiffens. She may be upset, but she has no right to talk about Sienna that way. My voice is hard when I speak. “I’ve made my choice. I refuse to marry someone I don’t love. And if my father doesn’t like it, he can go to hell.”

  The color drains from Arian’s face. She strides to the door. “I’ve had it, Zane. I refuse to be treated this way. The moment I walk out this door, I’m never coming back. And all of your father’s efforts will be wasted. Is that what you want?”

  I hesitate. Is this really what I want? My entire life has been molded and shaped with Arian chosen for me at birth. Am I willing to give up everything?

  My eyes shift to Sienna, but she won’t look at me. She’s too busy staring at her hands, avoiding eye contact.

  “Good-bye, Arian,” I say finally, and there’s no mistaking the regret that creeps into those words.

  Her hate-filled eyes zero in on Sienna. “I hope you’re happy.” With that, she throws the door open, marches out, and slams it closed behind her.

  Arian is gone.

  ***

  I sink onto the couch next to Sienna, my entire body sagging into the filthy fabric.

  She immediately turns to me. “I’m sorry,” she says.

  In a tired voice, I reply, “Why are you sorry?”

  She gestures to the place Arian stood only moments before. “This is all my fault.”

  Even though it’s not, I decide to play along. “Yes,” I say. “Yes, it is. If you hadn’t tried to jump off the Megasphere that night or the cliff after the Extravaganza, I would not have rescued you, and therefore, I might never have met you. So, yes, it is your fault.”

  I expect her to frown, because she never likes it when I tease about rescuing her. But she smiles instead. “How many times do I have to tell you that I didn’t need you to rescue me?”

  She doesn’t know. She doesn’t even realize how she’s changed my world. Changed it from duties and expectations, to excitement and unpredictability.

  My eyes bore into hers. “No? Maybe not. Maybe I needed you to rescue me.”

  She stares at me, her green eyes searching my face, and it takes all my willpower not to kiss each freckle on her nose.

  Something loosens inside of me, and I begin to speak, telling her about my life growing up without my mother. The expectations of who I was and what I would become ingrained in me from infancy. What it was like working in the lab with my father, and the first time I learned I was genetically matched to a girl named Arian Stratford.

  “I was eight at the time, well, the first time I heard her name. From the moment I could form words, I was told I would grow up to marry a girl who was the perfect match for me. But it wasn’t until I was twelve that my father arranged a meeting.” I pause, remembering that day so vividly. I’d been impressed with Arian from the first moment I saw her. “We met for ice cream, after school. Her parents and my father were there, sitting in a booth across from us. It was awkward, to say the least. Arian was pretty, even at that age, but I remember being at a loss for words. I struggled to find something to talk about, so I tried to make her laugh instead.” I make a face. “It didn’t go well. My jokes were stupid, immature, as boys’ jokes at that age typically are. And she was so mature, especially for a twelve-year-old. I was beginning to wonder if my father had made a mistake when Arian laid her hand over mine and said, ‘It’s okay. I’m nervous too.’ It was the first time a girl had ever touched me, and I think my mind went blank.” I laugh.

  “My father wanted to keep her identity a secret from the public, so he kept us apart. After that meeting, I just kept remembering how nice she was. And that carried me through it all. Through the years of not seeing her. Through the years of wondering what she looked like, how she’d changed. Then, at the Extravaganza, I saw her for the first time in almost ten years. She was beautiful, of course—I knew she would be—but she was also everything I’d ever pictured my wife to be: strong, capable, intelligent, caring.”

  My eyes search Sienna’s face. “But then, I met you. Well, for the second time at the lake. And you were everything I never knew I wanted. Independent, sassy, daring, carefree. You got under my skin that first night I saw you on top of the Megasphere, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since.” My fingers move to her cheek.

  “Zane, I—” She stops and looks down.

  I lift her chin, forcing her to look at me. “You remember, don’t you?”

  She nods. “And I’m not sure I can give you what you want—”

  “Sienna, all I want is for you to be happy.”

  She slips her fingers through mine and kisses the back of my hand. “I am happy.”

  “You are? But I thought—”

  “You thought that the moment I remembered Trey, I would forget about you?”

  Of course that’s what I thought. How could I imagine anything different?

  “Sure, things are more complicated now,” she continues, “but I care about you, Zane. I really do. And no memory of Trey is going to change that.”

  Unconsciously, I stroke the back of her hand with my thumb. “I don’t expect anything from you right now, but as long as I know that I’m in the running, that’s sufficient for me.”

  “Good,” she says, “because that’s all I can offer right now.”

  I wish it were more. I wish I was enough for her, but as long as Trey is in the picture, it will never be the case. I stare at our entwined hands. What would it be like if Trey and I were never switched at birth? Would she love me instead?

  Then I remember the picture of her father, and the pain it must have caused her to find out he’s alive.

  “Sienna—” I exhale slowly. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

  Her face hardens, and she slides her hand away from mine. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

  “Why not? Aren’t you wondering how he’s still alive and why he’s working in the AIG facility?”

  “I know why he’s alive. He’s a coward,” she says through clenched teeth.

  I stare at her. “You don’t honestly believe that he planned this, do you?”

  “Of course I do. He faked his own death once—what’s to say he wouldn’t fake it again?” She sits up straight. “You have no idea how much I’ve learned about him this past year. How much I never knew and still so much that I don’t know.” She pauses, licking her lips. “Zane, my father recruited Granger before his death. I don’t understand why. But one thing is certain—he left us. He left Mom, Emily, and me to fend for ourselves, to scrape bottom. He left me to sell my soul, to become someone else, someone I didn’t like very much, but had to be. If he’s really that much of a selfish coward, I want nothing to do with him.”

  “It’s possible he faked his death,” I say. “But what if he didn’t? What if he’s a victim? Just like you.”

  Her mouth moves into a grim line. “The evidence points otherwise.”

  We’re both quiet for a moment. “I can’t believe your father was the lead geneticist for my father’s lab,” I say.

  “According to Greta, your mother is the one who helped him get a job working for your father.”

  To think that her dad and my mom knew each other. A grin spreads over my face.

  “What?” she asks.

  “Don’t you find it ironic that my mom and your dad were friends all those years ago, and now here we are?”

  She shakes her head at me. “Focus, Zane.”

  I slap my hand on my knee. “Okay, let’s think. Your father was a genetic genius, not unlike Harlow. But he faked his own death after my mother died during childbirth—”

  “I’m thinking…” she interrupts. “That he felt guilty about implanting two genetically modified embryos in Penelope, which in a way, led to her death. Maybe that’s why he decided to leave the life of a geneticist and start fresh.”

  “But why fake his own death and change his name a second time?”

  “Good question. Maybe he was scared of something?”
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  “Or someone,” I add.

  Sienna goes quiet for a moment. “Radcliffe told me he was the one who killed my father. Which means he’s probably the one who faked my father’s death a year ago. Maybe with a poison that stops the heart or something.”

  “And that’s how he was able to convince everyone that your father was dead,” I finish.

  “But that doesn’t make sense because my father’s coffin would have been empty,” she says. “Which means that several people were in on the ruse.”

  “Or they were bribed.”

  It would have to be a bribe. That’s the only way to keep so many people quiet. If her dad was valuable to Radcliffe, the moment he learned her father was still alive, Radcliffe could have faked her dad’s death, erased his memories, and hired him as the lead geneticist for the AIG. I’m sure if we opened up the back of Brian Phillips’ brain, we’d find a chip hidden there too.

  Sienna’s fists clench. “Radcliffe did this,” she breathes. “How much can that man take away from me? How much more will I let him?”

  I wish I could remove all the hurt and pain she’s felt. I would take it on myself if I knew it would ease some of her burden. “I know this has been hard, but the good news is that we now know how to restore Trey and your father’s memories.”

  She throws her hands up in defeat. “And how would we ever convince them? The last time I tried to tell Trey his memories were altered, he ran away with some girl he claimed was his fiancée. If I try to do that again, he might actually marry her.” She pauses. “And as for my dad, I’m nothing more than a stranger to him—a stranger he’s already experimented on. He would have no reason to ever believe me. Or trust me.”

  I think for a moment. “Then we give them a reason.”

  “How?”

  Thankfully, I know exactly what to do. “You leave the planning to me. But I will say this—you’re going to need a fancy dress.”

  23

  SIENNA

  Zane’s plan is simple really.

  Two months ago, his father received an invitation to attend the AIG’s annual gala. It’s a big event, a fundraising opportunity, and anyone who’s anyone has been invited. When his father received the invitation, Zane didn’t think much of it, and of course assumed his father would be the one to attend. But now, if Zane can convince his father to let him take his place, I will accompany him, posing as his assistant.

  We are working under the assumption that my father and Trey will be there too, but just to be certain, I put in a call to the AIG facility to confirm their attendance. When the receptionist answers, I say in my most polished, professional voice, “Good morning, I’m calling from Senator Raoul’s office. We never received confirmation from Trey Winchester or Brian Phillips for the gala in a few days. Will the two of them be attending this event?”

  The receptionist stalls a moment, probably looking up an old document that will show she did, in fact, send confirmation for the two of them. “I’m sorry you didn’t receive it, but I sent the confirmation on July twenty-fourth. They will both be attending the gala and bringing a guest.”

  “I’m sorry to trouble you. Must be a mistake on our end. I’ll be sure to update the system so there are no problems that night. Have a good day.” I hang up and smile at Zane. “They’re going.” Tilting my head in his direction, I say, “Your turn.”

  Zane hasn’t spoken to his father since he left over a week ago. And he certainly hasn’t told him about his called-off engagement. But with emotions still running high, and unresolved feelings of betrayal at the forefront of Zane’s mind, this conversation will be a difficult one. I stay beside him on the couch to offer moral support, just like he did for me.

  With the Lynk against his ear, Zane stands and begins pacing the floor of the motel room. “Hello, Father,” he says when his dad answers. He listens for a few seconds and says, “Yes, I’ve been meaning to call you. Remember that gala you were invited to a few weeks back? Were you planning to go?” He listens, his eyebrows drawn together. “How would you feel if I wanted to take your place? It might be a good experience for me, you know? As the future owner of the company.”

  Zane is hitting his father right in his soft spot. Mr. Ryder is probably thrilled that Zane is contemplating taking over the company, despite everything he’s learned the past few weeks.

  “That’s wonderful, Dad,” Zane is saying. He gives me a big grin and a thumbs-up. “I appreciate it.” Then there’s a pause. “Arian? No, she’s not here. She decided to stay at a friend’s house.” Another pause. “Sienna will be my plus one, Dad.” Zane glances at me before turning his back and speaking in a low voice. “I understand. But you don’t have to worry. We’re only friends.”

  When Zane hangs up, I say, “You’ve got your dad worried now, huh?”

  He makes a face. “He won’t admit it, but yeah.”

  “So when are you gonna tell him? You know, about you and Arian.”

  “When he asks?” He laughs. “I guess once I figure out what to say.”

  “You do realize that once Arian tells her parents and they tell their friends, it’s only a matter of time before all of Pacifica knows. Including your father.”

  “I do,” he says, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. “But I’m banking on the fact that Arian won’t tell anyone.”

  “Why would you think that? She’s a girl. And she was angry. Don’t you know that a girl’s anger is never a pretty thing?”

  Zane chuckles. “Yes, but Arian is a well-bred genetically modified girl. I have a feeling that, deep down, she doesn’t want it to be over. And she certainly doesn’t want the shame that will come from our disunion.”

  My mouth drops open. “So that’s why you let her leave so readily? You think she’ll come crawling back, begging you to still marry her, is that it?” I shake my head. “Wow, you have quite the ego.”

  Zane walks over and slips onto the couch next to me. “That’s not why I let her leave, and you know it.”

  “But you aren’t denying that she’ll come crawling back,” I retort.

  He lifts his hands, shrugging. “Honestly? I don’t know what she’ll do. But for now, if she thinks there’s any chance of us getting back together, then that would work as an advantage for me, at least until I can get everything settled here. Then I can return home and deal with the aftermath of our broken betrothal. You understand?”

  I nod. It does make sense. The moment people find out about his and Arian’s breakup, there will need to be a lot of smoothing over. There will be press conferences, interviews, not to mention the wrath of his father, and Zane would need to be in Legas to deal with all of it. Now is not the right time, and knowing this, I really do hope Arian believes she and Zane only hit a rough patch and will end up back together.

  “Good,” Zane says. “With that taken care of, we can move on to phase two of the plan.”

  “Phase two?” I echo.

  “Right.” He gives me a big grin. “Finding you the perfect dress.”

  A groan escapes before I can stop it. “Did I mention that I hate shopping?”

  Chuckling, Zane stands and pulls me up from the couch. “Good thing you’ll have me to keep you entertained.”

  ***

  The shops in Rubex are trendy and expensive, and I swear I see at least two famous people from some of Chaz’s favorite shows. I’ve never been a fan of shopping, so I’m treating this like a mission. Go in, find the dress, and then retreat. ASAP.

  As fancy as the dresses are in this one particular shop Zane takes me to called Serutica, the decor is even more so. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and mirrored walls give the impression that the store itself is endless, existing forever. Even the armchairs in the sitting area where unlucky mothers and husbands wait are embossed in gold. Bouquets of fresh cut flowers create a lingering smell of a florist rather than a dress shop.

  Zane waits patiently as I try on dress after dress, although I don’t come out a
nd prance around to show off the dress, like some of the other women. I’m not a model, and this is by no means a fashion show. I’m doing this because I have to, not because I want to.

  The silky material of the various gowns feels soft against my skin, but one cuts low in the front, revealing far too much cleavage, and another has fabric cut out on the sides so my pale bare skin shows through. No thanks.

  After trying on at a least a dozen, and feeling certain that my body simply isn’t made to wear a fancy gown, one of the stylists—that’s what they call them here—brings me the most exquisite dress. It’s turquoise with tiny silver, white, and turquoise jewels sewn into the bodice. The skirt is long and flowing, and it reminds me of the ocean. I glance at the price tag and try to shove it back in her hands, but she insists that I try it on.

  When I’m alone in my dressing room, I ever so gently ease my head through the narrow opening. The dress is a little heavier than the others, probably because of all the jewels on the chest, but as it slides into place and my fingers search the back and zip it up, I realize that it was made for me. I stare at myself in the mirror, my hands running down the sides of my waist, smoothing invisible wrinkles. I sway back and forth a little, watching the skirts ebb and flow like the ocean current.

  As a strapless gown, it leaves the pale skin of my shoulders and upper chest exposed, and even though I don’t really like showing off my knobby shoulders and freckly chest, I’m in love with the dress. I poke my head out of the dressing room, careful not to let the dress show. Zane is seated in one of the armchairs, one leg crossed in a ninety-degree angle at the knee, staring at his Lynk.

  “Hey,” I whisper.

  Zane glances up, and when he sees me, he smiles. “Any luck?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  He motions for me to come out. “Let me see it.”

  “No, I want it to be a surprise.”

  Laughing, he says, “So, you mostly came out to tease me, is that right?”