Forty-Nine Days of His Fake Amnesia Chapter 08
Two days later. The emails went out.
Before dawn, the diaries hit every media inbox. Along with the unedited crash footage. The young healer actor had saved it.
Not the edited version. Not Evan’s stream with the mocking subtitles.
Raw. Real.
The diaries spelled it out—day one, how I was told my alpha husband had wolf-core trauma. How I signed the care contract. How I kept doubting but kept caring.
The footage showed me being watched by cameras I didn’t know existed.
Overnight, the internet flipped.
[She had no idea it was a live stream.]
[Alpha Evan made her care for him for forty-nine days. Then threw her into a punishment show?]
[He’s a disgrace to Highpine Pack. I don’t recognize him as our alpha.]
[This is harassment. False imprisonment.]
The people who called me a bad actress deleted their comments.
PackNet kept everything.
Moonlight enforcers pulled the hidden stream’s backend. Memberships. Tipping records. Comments. All evidence.
Felix and Jimmy got stopped at the airport.
All the fake rescue wolves went to central station.
“We thought it was just for show. Alpha Evan and Miss Bellamy kept saying Luna Naomi was tough.”
“The young healer wanted to save her. Felix held him back.”
“Mira said the more humiliated Naomi looked, the higher the ratings.”
Reporters flooded Highpine Pack House.
Evan didn’t hide.
He stood on the steps in a black suit. Dark under his eyes. The cracked whistle wrapped around his wrist.
A reporter from the Lycan Alpha shoved a mic in his face.
“Alpha Evan. Did Luna Naomi know about the live stream?”
“Do you admit to delaying the rescue?”
“Is Miss Bellamy the other woman?”
Evan looked up.
“Naomi Greer did not know.”
Dead silence.
“This so-called amnesia retreat was a punishment I planned. The rescue delay was connected to my orders.”
The PR chief went white next to him. Shaking his head.
Evan ignored him.
“I’ll accept the enforcers’ investigation. My personal assets will cover her reputation damage and the accident liability.”
The reporter pushed. “What about Mira?”
Evan’s voice was flat.
“She helped plan it. She helped block the rescue. She pays too.”
I stood outside the crowd. Strange.
When I was alive, I begged for an explanation.
He never gave one.
Now I’m dead, and he’s telling the truth.
Too late.
That afternoon, Evan went to Moonhall Funeral Home. To claim my body.
Lawyer Iris Hale blocked the door. My last will in her hand.
“Mr. Ward. Ms. Greer left clear instructions.”
Evan’s voice was hoarse. “I’m her husband.”
Iris looked at him.
“The will says if she dies from an accident connected to you, you may not claim the body. Not host the funeral. Not touch her belongings.”
Evan went white.
“When did she write this?”
“The thirteenth day of the retreat.”
Iris paused.
“That day, you dumped six hours of her cooking into a dog bowl. On camera. Told her she didn’t know how to please you. Made her eat off the floor.”
Evan stood there. Hollow.
He whispered, “Did she leave me anything?”
Iris was quiet. Then took out a voice recorder.
“She said if you ever remembered, listen to this.”
Evan reached for it.
Iris held on.
“Mr. Ward. Before you listen—understand. This is not forgiveness.”