The Fake Boyfriend Gambit - Chapter 1: Chapter 1

The car crash left my adoptive brother convinced I'd lost my memory.
With a smirk, he gestured to his best friend, Lucas, and quipped, "This is your boyfriend."
In my past life, I'd exposed his lies—yet I still clung to him like a fool.
And where did that get me? A gruesome death in the mental hospital where he'd locked me away.
Three years after I died, a broken Lucas took his own life at my grave.
Then—I woke up.
Back on the day of the accident.
This time, I didn't hesitate. I stretched my arms toward Lucas, my voice soft but sure: "Honey, hug me."
My adoptive brother, Jason, flinched—his grip tightening around the medicine bowl until it shattered in his hand.
And Lucas?
His eyes burned red as he wordlessly pulled me into his arms, his voice rough with emotion: "Yeah."
The hospital room smelled like bleach and regret.
Jason and Lucas stood side by side at my bedside, an unlikely pair—one grinning like a fox, the other tense as a coiled spring.
My head pounded, the pain making everything feel surreal.
"Where am I? Who am I?"
Jason, ever the opportunist, jumped at the chance. He nudged Lucas forward, mischief dancing in his eyes. "You're my sister, Jessica. And this?"—he flashed a grin—"This is your boyfriend, Lucas."
My gaze snapped to Lucas.
The man's sharp eyes were downcast, shadowed with something unreadable—guilt? Longing?
He wouldn't meet my stare, yet I could feel the weight of his attention, heavy and restrained.
Just like before.
Just like last time.
For years in my past life, I'd been hopelessly obsessed with Jason—so much that I drove him crazy.
After the car accident, he assumed I had amnesia. To shake me off, he lied and said Lucas was my boyfriend.
Truth was, when I first woke up, I did have temporary memory loss. But it didn't last long.
When Jason pulled his little stunt, I didn't even care about the lie. All I wanted was to prove I remembered everything.
Tugging nervously at his sleeve, my eyes brimming with tears, I choked out, "Brother, I'm not lying—I didn't forget anything."
Jason froze, then pulled me into his arms like he always did when I cried.
"I'm sorry, Jess. Brother was wrong."
Ecstatic, I brushed it off instantly and clung to him like always.
By sixteen, I knew my feelings for my adoptive brother weren't exactly… normal. Every time he dated someone, I made sure it didn't last.
The books called it possessiveness.
I couldn't argue.
And Jason? He let me get away with it. More than once, he quietly stepped in to deal with the fallout. He indulged my antics, let me cling to him, never pushed me away.
Then came the night I got drunk and begged him for a kiss.
He didn't refuse. Just stiffened, letting me have my way.
Back then, I was naive enough to think he felt the same.
But I missed the glaring truth—he never said he did.
I kissed him until, suddenly, he snapped out of it and shoved me off, lips swollen, smirking in that cruel way of his.
"Jessica, what kind of freak likes their own brother?"
It was like ice water dumped over my head. My body locked up, heart pounding.
"I don't—I don't—" My voice cracked, high-pitched and desperate.
"Don't like me?" His disgust cut deeper than any blade.
I couldn't answer.
Because I did.
I was an orphan. He was the only one who'd ever been kind to me.
How could I not?
Jason saw right through me, his revulsion sharpening.
"A freak like you belongs in a mental hospital."