Million-Dollar Amnesia Scandal Read Online Free Page A

everything she said and did to see if she was faking? But worse was that his words highlighted her feeling of dependence. Needing him to take her to the hotel she wanted to see, needing her mother to pack some clothes. The sooner her memory returned and she took charge of her own life, the better.
    She picked up her small suitcase. “I’m ready to go.”
    â€œThe hospital’s allowing us to leave by a little used staff entrance, so we can bypass the media pack out the front.” He took the bag from her fingers as a stocky man in a hospital uniform appeared with a wheelchair.
    Determined to at least have enough independence to leave the hospital under her own steam, she shook her head. “I’m more than capable of walking to a car.”
    â€œSorry, ma’am,” the hospital worker said. “Hospital policy.”
    Seth stepped forward and laid a hand on the wheelchair’s handle. “I’ll take her.” The other man nodded at Seth and left the room.
    Seth politely indicated her seat with a wave of his hand, as if the contraption was a reasonable mode of transport. “Shall we?”
    April bit down on her lip. Having medical staff push her in a wheelchair was one thing; but having this man—a man who overwhelmed her, yet only wanted an asset back—do the same, was frustrating. Closing her eyes, she took a breath and let it go. No matter how she wished she had her memories and could resume her life, this was the position she was in for the moment, and fighting it wouldn’t help. She opened her eyes and sat in the chair.
    When they reached the hidden entrance, he told her to wait while he went for his car, then appeared again minutes later in a sleek, midnight-blue sedan. He held the door open, waiting while she buckled herself in, before closing it and rounding the car.
    Seth slid into the driver’s seat and, as he smoothly joined the stream of cars, a dark suburban pulled out behind them. The move had been far from covert so it wasn’t alarming, but she watched its progress in her side mirror. Did Seth have bodyguards? Did she?
    â€œWho’s that following us?” she asked.
    â€œYour security detail. They’ve agreed to work with hotel security while you’re in Queensport. You won’t even notice them.” He reached behind into the back. “This is for you,” he said, passing her a folder.
    Drawing her eyes from the side mirror, she opened the folder and scanned the first page: Background Report: April Fairchild.
    â€œWhat’s this?”
    â€œI had my staff put it together. To jog your memory,” he said, his face inscrutable.
    His attention remained on the road and traffic, which gave her an unobserved moment to stare at the folder on her lap. She’d been wanting to know more, desperate even, but now that she had information literally at her fingertips,her shoulders tensed and she had to force herself to open it, to ignore the fear of what she’d find.
    She turned past the title page and her lips parted in surprise. Page Two had a biography with a photo that was undeniably of her, but nothing like the reflection she’d been seeing in the hospital mirror. This version of her had professionally styled hair, long and sleek. The colors were the same mix of autumn browns and golds, but it sat perfectly. She ran a finger over the picture on the page. There had obviously been a makeup artist as well—though it was subtle, she looked more beautiful. Her good features highlighted, her faults minimized.
    Jazz singer April Fairchild burst onto the scene as a thirteen-year-old, and her fan base has only grown stronger and larger over the past fifteen years. The daughter of a small-time jazz singer, the late George Fairchild…
    Her father was dead? Yes, she could feel the deep, stark hollowness in her chest that his passing had left. They’d been close—even without remembering him, she knew that. And