Unmoored: Healing My Toxic Past

When the hallway outside my hospital room was in absolute chaos, I was staring blankly at a single obsidian cufflink and a separation agreement on my bedside table. On the last page of the contract, two names sat side by side: Summer Vance and Julian Vance. I had absolutely no idea who Julian was. My father pushed the door open, followed by a man in a long black wool coat. "This is Julian, your adoptive uncle. A few months ago, you went crazy and forced him to get engaged to you. Now that you've got brain damage, you can finally forget all that nonsense and start fresh." I slid the agreement toward them. "If this was my mistake, then let’s end it." The room fell into a dead silence. The man named Julian stared at me, his voice so low it sounded like steel scraping against ice. "Do you have any idea what you're saying?" "I do," I replied. "I don't remember you. You're free." The moment the word free left my mouth, I saw something shatter deep within his eyes. Chapter 1 Summer's POV I woke up to a screaming match outside my hospital room. My father was furiously questioning the doctor, demanding to know if I had lost my mind along with my balance. The doctor calmly explained that my fall down the estate's stone steps on that rainy night had damaged my temporal lobe. I had lost a chunk of my memory. As for how much of it would return, that depended entirely on my recovery. The door wasn't fully closed, and my father’s agitated voice cut right through the crack. "Of all the people to forget, she had to forget Julian!" Hearing that name stirred absolutely nothing in my heart. Looking down, I noticed a faint, pale ring mark on the ring finger of my left hand, as if something had occupied that spot for a very long time. On the nightstand sat a single obsidian cufflink and an unsigned annulment agreement. I flipped to the last page. In the signature section, two names were written side by side: Summer Vance and Julian Vance. I was tied to this man, yet my mind was a total blank. The door clicked open. The man who walked in wore a heavy black coat, bringing with him the cold scent of early spring rain. His features were sharp and cold, dark circles of exhaustion shadowing his eyes. He stood two paces away from my bed, not even offering a polite "Does it hurt?" Instead, his icy gaze locked onto the faint mark on my ring finger, and his brow twitched almost imperceptibly. "Summer," my father said, walking in behind him like he had finally found the man who could clean up my mess. "This is Julian. He's your grandfather’s adopted ward—technically your uncle, though you two grew up together. You acted like a total psychopath recently, forcing him into an engagement and dragging him back to the estate. Now that this happened, you can just forget that toxic history and start over." "Engagement?" My throat tightened. I looked back at the agreement. Termination of cohabitation, annulment of the engagement, and the return of Julian’s proxy voting rights. Every single line was a silent accusation: the past version of me had used the Vance family's power to trap this man. Julian finally spoke. "You don't have to rush your memory." His voice was deep, distant, and cold. But I saw his hands, resting at his sides, clench so hard his knuckles turned white. Without hesitation, I pushed the papers toward him. "If this was my mistake, let’s end it now." The room instantly went dead silent. My father froze. Julian didn't reach for the papers. He stared into my eyes, the cold mask on his face cracking for the very first time. "Do you have any idea what you're saying?" "I do." I pushed the papers a little closer to him. "I don't remember you, and I have no interest in holding you hostage with a relationship I don't even recall. You're free." The moment the word free left my lips, Julian's gaze darkened even further. He didn't take the agreement. Instead, he took a half-step forward. Rainwater dripped from the hem of his coat, and his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "And what if you get your memory back? Are you sure you won't regret this?" "Julian! She doesn't remember a thing. Why are you picking a fight with her now?" my father interrupted impatiently. "Just take her back to the estate. We can't let the media get wind of this!" I understood then. They weren't worried about my pain, nor were they sympathetic to Julian's misery. They only cared about the Vance family reputation and our stock prices. I pulled the papers back, laying them flat on my lap, and met Julian's gaze. "If I regret it later, that's my problem. But the person I am today cannot keep making mistakes for the person I was yesterday." Julian stared at me, the flash of panic in his eyes quickly swallowed by an intense coldness. "You better remember what you said today." "I'll write it down." I immediately asked the nurse for a pen and paper. Right then and there, I wrote: Day One of waking up. Summer Vance decides to terminate all arrangements holding Julian Vance against his will. I folded the note and tucked it into the annulment agreement. Since memory could lie, I needed to leave myself a piece of undeniable evidence. Chapter 2 Summer's POV The day I was discharged, the family sent three black SUVs to pick me up. My father took the front car. Just as I reached for the door of the second vehicle, a hand blocked the top frame, protecting my head. Julian stood right behind me. He didn't touch me, but his hand was steady. This kind of protective instinct was too practiced. It didn't look like the behavior of a man who was supposed to hate my guts. The cabin was silent with just the two of us. Just as I was about to ask about the Vance Estate, Julian handed me a thick manila folder. "The doctor said you shouldn't be overstimulated. If you want to know about your past, read this first." Inside were several board resolutions and an old photo taken in the estate’s greenhouse. In the photo, I looked radiant but possessive, wrapping a tie tightly around his wrist. He was looking down with a cold expression, but he hadn't pulled his hand away. On the back of the photo, a line was written in my handwriting: Julian, don't you dare leave me. Julian was technically my uncle by adoption. His parents had died when he was young, and my grandfather had taken him in. Everyone in the business world said he was ruthless and cold-blooded, yet the old me had clung to him like a parasite. "Is all of this true?" I asked. "Half of it," Julian said, staring out the window. "Which half?" "The part where you forced me to stay is true. And the part where you claimed an engagement would stabilize the family’s power struggle is also true." He didn't elaborate. The car rolled through the gates of the Vance Estate. The first thing that caught my eye in the living room was a massive photo wall. It was covered in pictures of Julian and me at various high-society galas. I was holding his arm, he was blocking drinks for me, I was smiling at the camera, and he was looking at me. Staring at them made my chest tighten. "Take all of these down," I ordered the butler. Mrs. Higgins froze, instinctively glancing at Julian. Julian didn't even blink. "Do what she says." My father came down the stairs, his face instantly clouding over. "Are you throwing a tantrum the moment you get back? Do you know how many reporters are watching us? If we call off the engagement now, Julian's competitors will strip his projects away by tomorrow!" I threw the board resolutions onto the coffee table and looked at my father. "So I wasn't the only crazy one. You guys needed me to be crazy, too." The living room went dead silent. "You don't have your full memory yet. Watch your mouth!" my father snapped. "I lost my memory, not my eyes." I pointed at the document. "Every single beneficiary listed on this project includes more than just me." I slid the annulment papers over to Julian. "I'll take the blame for what I did wrong. But we need to clean up the benefits the family squeezed out of you using my obsession." "Are you turning against your own family?!" my father roared. I looked up coldly. "Isn't he the son you raised? Why is he family when you need a scapegoat, but an outsider when you don't?" The slap of my words was loud and clear. The ice in Julian's eyes finally showed a sign of melting. Yet, he still didn't sign. He only murmured, "Summer, you never used to speak up for me." "Then I'll start making up for it now," I said, looking at him. "But making up for it does not mean keeping you chained to me." My father slammed the door and stormed upstairs. As the photos were taken down one by one, they left pale, empty squares on the wall, like skin torn off a wound. I told Mrs. Higgins to pack them all into boxes and lock them away. Julian stood nearby. "Aren't you afraid these will be used as weapons against you later?" "Yes," I admitted. "But I'm more afraid of letting myself play the innocent victim again." He didn't say another word. But the way he looked at me was different—for the first time, he was looking at a complete stranger. Chapter 3 Summer's POV The second floor of the Vance Estate used to be my personal sanctuary. On my desk sat old financial spreadsheets, but the most jarring thing was an iPad with a lit screen. The homepage was open to the estate's security and access control system. "That's the security schedule. You were the only one with override access," Mrs. Higgins explained softly. Smart locks, private drivers, security guards. A brief, terrifying flash of memory struck my brain: It was midnight in the foyer. Julian was dragging a suitcase, trying to leave. The driver stood with his head down, refusing to start the car, while the security chief blocked the door. "If Ms. Vance doesn't give the nod, nobody leaves." Julian had turned to look at me, his voice freezing. "Summer, don't cage yourself in here with me." I gripped the edge of the desk, my fingertips instantly turning cold. "Are these restrictions still active?" "Mr. Julian said to leave them until you recovered your memory. They're temporarily suspended." "Deactivate them permanently. Now." I grabbed the iPad and marched downstairs. Julian was standing in the living room. Seeing the iPad in my hand, he asked, "Did you remember something?" "A little. It's patchy, but enough to know this thing shouldn't exist." We walked into the security office on the first floor. The monitors on the wall and the visitor logs on the desk showed no physical chains, but there was a digital cage. Julian Vance is restricted from leaving the estate alone. Julian Vance's itinerary must be reported. Julian Vance's vehicle dispatch requires Summer Vance's confirmation. Julian stepped up behind me and clicked on a voice memo attached to a shift log. A screeching voice played from the speakers. It was my voice, sounding manic and desperate: "If you walk out that door today, I will cut off your mother's medical trust fund!" Then came a heavy silence, followed by Julian's empty voice. "Summer, you are pathetic." The recording cut off. My face drained of color. I couldn't even find a single word to defend myself. "How many of these recordings are there?" I whispered. "A lot," Julian said. "Give them all to me." "You won't be able to handle it." "I have to!" I squeezed the iPad. "I can't pretend to be some magnanimous saint freeing you while ignoring just how toxic I actually was." Julian fell silent for a few seconds before forwarding the audio files to my email. "You used to promise you'd change back then, too. But the next day, just because you saw me take a call from someone else, you'd change the security protocols all over again." His words pierced straight through me. I finally understood that amnesia was not a free pass. Every single toxic debt I had forgotten was still engraved in his bones. I turned to Mrs. Higgins. "Delete every single restriction on Julian. From now on, he goes where he wants, meets who he wants, and takes any car he wants. No approvals needed." The butler hesitated, looking at Julian. "Do as she says," Julian said quietly. Watching the red restriction icons on the screen turn gray, Julian suddenly asked, "Are you in such a rush to destroy these because you're afraid of remembering, or because you're afraid I'll see you regret it?" "Both," I said, turning to face him. "But mostly, I'm terrified of keeping you in this cage." I had the security admin print out a log of the changes. I signed it, made Mrs. Higgins sign as a witness, and then handed it to Julian. Julian looked at the paper, finding it absurd. "You're keeping a paper trail for this?" "Yes. In the past, I acted on pure emotion. I gave you freedom when I was happy and took it away when I wasn't. Now, I'm binding myself in black and white." Julian took the pen, hesitating for a long moment. Finally, he signed his name in the witness column. When he set the pen down, his voice was quiet enough to make my chest ache. "Summer, you better mean it this time." I stared at his signature. "I hope I do. If I don't, you can use this paper to sue me." Chapter 4 Summer's POV Dinner was served at the long mahogany table of the estate. My father sat at the head of the table, Julian on his left, and I was placed directly opposite Julian. When the soup was served, nobody picked up their forks. My father had clearly been holding his anger back all afternoon. The moment he sat, he spoke. "Fine, the security access is gone. But the engagement cannot be canceled immediately. The public doesn't know you lost your memory; they only know you and Julian are tied together. If you let go now, our stock prices will plunge." I looked at him. "So you want me to keep playing a part?" "Just for a few months," my father said, softening his tone. "Until the Southside Project is finalized. After that, you two can do whatever you want in private." I let out a dry laugh. "Is that how you used to convince me in the past?" My father's face stiffened. I pushed my salad around with my fork, then laid it down. "First, you say it's for the family. Then, you say it's for the project. Finally, you say it's for my own good. And when I actually cage Julian, everyone turns around and calls me a psycho." My father slammed his hand on the table. "Oh, now you're playing the rational one? Who was the one screaming and refusing to let him go in the first place?" "It was me," I admitted, looking him in the eye. "Which is why I'm changing it now." Julian sipped his tea, looking like a bystander watching a drama that had nothing to do with him. Only when my father turned the target on him did he look up. "Julian, say something. She isn't thinking straight right now. You can't just let her ruin everything." Julian set his cup down. "When she was 'thinking straight,' you didn't exactly stop her from ruining things either." My father choked on his words. I looked at Julian. His tone was level, free of any obvious emotion, but there was a heavy exhaustion hidden beneath his words—a weariness that said he was done covering up for everyone. The dining room went cold. My father quickly changed his tactic. "Julian, your mother's healthcare trust fund is still managed under the Vance Group. If you cut ties with Summer now, the board will review your access." I finally understood. I used to hold Julian's weak spot, and now my father was doing the exact same thing. I thought I was the only villain in this story, but it turned out the villainy was a family affair. I stood up. "Send me the account details for his mother's trust." My father frowned. "What are you doing?" "Transferring it," I said. "Into Julian's personal trust, or directly to the hospital's private account. From today on, nobody is going to use his mother to threaten him ever again." My father sneered. "Do you have any idea how complicated that paperwork is?" "I only know that threatening people is easier," I said, staring at him. "But easy doesn't make it right." My father slammed his fork down in rage. But Julian spoke up quietly. "There's no need." I froze. He looked at me. "My mother passed away three months ago." It felt like the entire room had been submerged in ice water. My ears began to ring. In the chunk of memory I had lost, there was a funeral. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My father looked away, avoiding my eyes. Julian's voice was flat, as if he were talking about someone else. "You were in London negotiating a deal back then. By the time you rushed back, the funeral was already over. You threw a fit, smashed the displays in the family chapel, and forced me to bring her ashes back to the estate. But then you regretted it, and you knelt outside the chapel doors all night." My eyes stung. "Why did nobody tell me?" Julian set his napkin down. "Because you forgot me, and you forgot her." That sentence carried more weight than any insult. I didn't sleep that night. I sat in the second-floor library, pulling out every old document I could find. Just before dawn, I found an incomplete transfer application. The applicant was the me from three months ago. I had already planned to transfer Julian's mother's medical assets out of the Vance Group. I was only missing a signature on the final page. Next to the document was a sticky note in my handwriting from before the accident: Stop using the dead to cage the living. I stared at those words for a very long time, my chest squeezing painfully. I didn't know if the me who wrote that was sane, broken, or simply too exhausted to keep hurting him. But at least it proved that the past me wasn't entirely heartless. Knowing you're wrong and doing nothing about it, though—that was even worse. At dawn, Julian walked in and saw me sitting in the middle of a sea of paper. "Have you been doing this all night?" I looked up, my eyes bloodshot. "Where is she buried?" Julian’s face immediately turned cold. I knew the question was too late, and incredibly cruel, but I still forced it out. "Once I finish transferring these assets, I want to go and apologize to her. If you don't want me there, I understand. I won't go without your permission." Julian remained silent until the morning sun fully lit the room. "We'll talk about that later," he said. Chapter 5 Summer's POV By the time I finished signing the asset transfer, Julian was getting ready to leave. He was dressed in a sharp charcoal suit, his tie perfectly straight, looking exactly like the ruthless businessman from the rumors. I ran to the foyer with the documents and handed him a pen. "Sign this before you go." Julian glanced at the papers. "You didn't sleep at all last night?" "That doesn't matter." "It does." He reached out, his fingers hovering just near the dark circles under my eyes, but he pulled back before making contact. "The doctor said you need rest." His gesture caught me off guard. Our past was a toxic mess, but his occasional instinct to look after me was so natural it felt like muscle memory. I pushed the pen forward. "Sign first." Julian didn't take it. "Are you sure you want to hand these assets over to me? You fought a brutal war with the board for years just to keep control of them." "That was a debt the old me owed," I said. "I don't want to owe you anything anymore." He looked down at me, a trace of mockery in his eyes. "You think signing a few papers makes us even?" "No," I admitted quickly. "But it cuts one of the ropes tying you down." Julian finally took the pen. The moment he signed, a weight lifted from my chest. But a second later, he handed the papers back, his voice flat. "There's a Vance Group gala tonight. You're coming." "Why?" "You deleted the security restrictions yesterday, and you're transferring assets today. People are already whispering that I'm manipulating an amnesiac to steal the family fortune." Julian looked at me. "If you want to call off the engagement, you need to say it clearly in front of everyone." I understood. He wasn't stopping me. He was just putting the hardest step of the process right in front of my face. I nodded. "Fine." The gala was held at a luxury hotel downtown. When I arrived, the ballroom was already packed. The moment I walked through the door, quiet whispers began to spread like wildfire. "She actually came." "I heard she took a nasty spill and woke up a different person. She's actually dumping Julian." "She chased him like a madwoman for years. Is she just playing hard to get now?" The whispers weren't quiet. They were meant for me to hear. I grabbed a glass of water, turned around, and looked at the group speaking. It was one of my uncles, a man known for his sharp tongue. I smiled slightly. "I was definitely out of line in the past, Uncle. But when you were collecting dividends from the project guarantees I signed, you didn't seem to mind my madness." His face flushed red. The surrounding crowd fell silent. I raised my voice slightly. "Since everyone is here tonight, I want to clarify three things. First, the engagement between Julian and me is officially canceled. Second, all assets under Julian's mother's name have been transferred to an independent trust; no one in the Vance family will touch them. Third, I admit I used toxic methods to keep him here in the past. I was wrong. I will make amends, and we will settle our debts properly." Someone gasped softly in the crowd. My father pushed through the crowd, his face twisted in suppressed rage. "Summer, what nonsense are you talking about?!" "I'm telling the truth," I said, looking around the room. "From today on, stop using my mistakes to force Julian to work for the Vance family. If the Vance Group wants to secure projects, let them do it on merit." The clinking of glasses stopped completely. Julian stood on the far side of the room, watching me from a distance. The chandelier light caught his eyes, making the ice in them look a little less cold. After the gala, I went out to the terrace to catch my breath. Julian walked up beside me and draped his coat over my shoulders. I didn't take it off. "I'm not cold." "Your hands are shaking." Only then did I notice my fingers trembling. I hid them in my sleeves. "It's my first time admitting to a crowd that I was a terrible person. I'm a little out of practice." Julian was silent for a moment before asking, "What if they keep talking trash about you from now on?" I looked at the city traffic below. "Let them," I said. "It's better than making you carry my weight forever." Muffled voices drifted from inside the terrace doors. Someone whispered that my amnesia was probably fake, while another said Julian was incredibly smart for wrapping a crazy heiress around his finger. I heard it, and Julian did too. If this were the past, I probably would have marched inside and smashed a glass to shut them up. Now, I simply placed my cup on the railing and asked Julian, "Did you have to listen to stuff like this all the time?" "I've heard worse," he said quietly. "How did you stand it?" "At first, I just ignored it. Later, I realized... it was useful." I understood what he meant by "useful." The worse the rumors got, the more guilty the Vance family felt, and the more leverage he gained. I had no right to blame him. Our relationship was completely rotten with mutual interests. I whispered, "Next time they make up stories about us, I'll clear it up myself." Julian looked at me. "Aren't you afraid of making an even bigger mess?" "Maybe," I said. "But it's still better than letting you take the heat alone." Chapter 6 Summer's POV After the gala, the Vance family was in absolute chaos. My father called me into his study and slammed the door. "Do you have any idea how much of a laughingstock you made us last night? The family raised you to be our representative, not to help Julian humiliate us!" I stood before his desk, still wearing my black dress from the night before. I hadn't slept, my face was pale, but my spine was straight. "The family didn't raise me to be your weapon, either." My father choked. "When I was threatening Julian with his mother's care, none of you stopped me. When I forced him into an engagement, you said it was great for securing our projects. Now that I'm letting him go, you call it humiliating." I stared at him. "Dad, do you actually hate that I was crazy, or do you just hate that I'm not crazy enough to be controlled anymore?" My father raised his hand to slap me. But the door swung open. Julian stood at the threshold, his gaze locking onto my father’s raised hand. "The board is waiting downstairs," Julian said coldly. "If you want them to watch a domestic dispute, please, continue." My father’s hand froze in midair before slowly dropping back to the desk. Downstairs in the conference room, several senior board members were already seated. I knew this meeting wasn't just about projects; it was about stripping Julian and me of our authority. One of the directors spoke up first. "Summer, you just suffered a head injury and your condition is unstable. It would be best to hand your voting proxy over to your father for now." I opened my folder. "Since my condition is unstable, I've already scheduled a professional psychological evaluation. Until the results are out, I won't be signing any proxy agreements." Another director smiled politely. "And what about Julian? Now that the engagement is off, it's highly inappropriate for him to continue managing the Southside Project." Before Julian could speak, I pushed a stack of files across the table. "The Southside Project was secured by Julian, and he built the entire team. His authority doesn't come from a marriage contract; it comes from his performance metrics." I paused, looking around the table. "On the other hand, I think some of you need to explain why you sneaked your own suppliers into the project using my name last year." The faces of several directors turned pale. Julian glanced at me, a hint of surprise in his eyes. I hadn't just been looking at personal journals last night; I had been studying project files. The meeting dragged on for three hours. My father had intended to strip us of our power, but instead, Julian and I joined forces to kick out two shell company suppliers. By the time the meeting ended, I could barely stand. I gripped the edge of the table, my vision swimming. Julian reached out, steadying my arm. "That's enough." "Not yet," I whispered. "I have to prove that letting you go isn't because my brain is broken." "You don't have to prove anything to anyone." I looked up at him. "Not even to you?" Julian’s hand stiffened on my arm. I offered a weak smile. "Just kidding. Don't worry, I won't force you to answer." The air between us went still. In the past, I probably would have demanded an answer, forced him to stay, and begged him to love me. Now that I was stepping back, he looked like he didn't know where to stand anymore. That night, when I returned to my room, I found a cardboard box by my door. Inside were things I had given Julian over the years: ties, cufflinks, expensive pens, and a cracked silver pocket watch. At the bottom was a sticky note in Julian's handwriting: These are all the things you once threatened to take back. I'm returning them to you. I held the box for a long time. He wasn't just returning items; he was returning all the forced dreams I had shoved onto him, leaving me to decide whether to keep them or throw them away. I carried the box inside and cataloged each item. The tie was bought when I was nineteen, the receipt still at the bottom of the box. The cufflinks were the pair to the one on my nightstand—the missing one had probably been lost near the stone steps the night of my fall. The expensive pen had tiny scratches on the cap, as if it had been gripped too hard and thrown. The pocket watch was the oldest, with my mother’s name engraved on the back. My finger traced her name, and a sudden pang of grief hit my chest. I couldn't remember why I had given him something so precious, or why I had demanded it back. But I could guess. The old me had treated "giving away my most precious possession" as a way to claim ownership over him. I opened a new notebook and wrote on the first page: Memories are not bargaining chips. You cannot use them to buy someone's presence. I put the pocket watch in my drawer. Not because I had forgiven myself, but because some things needed to wait until I was worthy of returning them to the person they belonged to.