After a car accident left me in a coma, I woke up with no memory — and a stranger claiming to be my fiancé. I didn’t recognize him, but he’d stayed by my side through everything. He said his name was Derek.
The doctors told me I had partial amnesia. I remembered my family, my friends, even my dog Otis — but not Derek.
He brought photos, gifts, and stories of our relationship, trying to jog my memory. My mom said I never told her about him, which was odd. Still, I wanted to believe him… until we got home.
Otis, normally friendly, attacked Derek on sight — barking and growling like he was a stranger. Derek brushed it off, but something didn’t feel right.
He discouraged me from seeing friends, replaced my phone with a new number, and insisted we marry soon. I felt isolated — and suspicious.
One day, I overheard him yelling at someone at the door. When he left, my friend Sally showed up. I broke down, and she told me something shocking: Derek didn’t exist. There was no record of him. I’d never introduced him to anyone. It was all a lie.
Then a courier delivered a marriage contract — Derek would get half my inheritance if we divorced. My wealthy grandmother had passed everything down to me. It all clicked.
Sally called the police and hid while I confronted him. When he came home, they arrested him on the spot.
Turns out, “Derek” was really Harry — a former nurse who’d worked at my grandmother’s nursing home. That’s how he found out about me and my inheritance.
Thanks to Otis — and Sally — I escaped his twisted plan. If I’d trusted him blindly, who knows what might’ve happened.