Chapter 119 THE CONVENIENT AMNESIA

Chapter 119 THE CONVENIENT AMNESIA
Celestia's Pov

On the second day in Brazen Pack I decided it was time to implement my plan. I needed people to relax around me and stop being so guarded so I could investigate freely without raising suspicion. The best way to do that was to pretend I did not remember the past.

I started at breakfast when several pack members were eating in the dining hall. I walked in with Lucian and made a show of looking around like everything was unfamiliar to me.

"This is a lovely dining hall. Very spacious," I said to Lucian loud enough for others to hear.

One of the pack elders who was sitting nearby looked at me strangely.

"Lady Celestia you used to eat in this hall every day when you were Luna here. Do you not remember?" the elder asked.

I put on a confused expression and shook my head.

"I am sorry but I do not remember much from before my time with the rogues. There was an accident during my first year of exile. I hit my head pretty badly and lost a lot of my memories. Most of my past is just blank spaces now," I said.

The elder looked shocked and so did several other people who overheard our conversation.

"You do not remember living here? Being Luna of this pack?" another pack member asked.

“I remember bits and pieces, but nothing clear. My mate, King Lucian, has told me stories about my past, but I cannot actually recall the events myself. It is very frustrating,” I said with a sad smile.
The words were true enough to satisfy the room, yet incomplete in a way that protected me. Faces softened at once—pity replacing suspicion, understanding dulling sharper questions. Memory loss was a wound no one liked to press.
But I felt Raphael stiffen.
He knew what forgetting meant. Not mercy. Not forgiveness. Just distance—an unbridgeable gap between who we had been and who I was now.
Lucian’s hand brushed mine, a quiet anchor. “What matters,” he said evenly, “is who she is now.”
I nodded, letting my smile linger a heartbeat longer than necessary.
Because whether my memories returned or not, some truths didn’t need remembering.
They had already shaped who I had become.

Word spread quickly through the pack house. By lunchtime everyone was talking about how the former Luna had lost her memories and did not remember her exile or her life in Brazen Pack.

I could see people visibly relaxing around me. They had been tense and guilty before but now they seemed relieved. If I did not remember what they did to me then they did not have to feel bad about it anymore.

Medea heard the news and came to find me in the afternoon. She looked nervous but also hopeful as she approached.

"Celestia I heard about your memory loss. I am so sorry that happened to you. It must be very difficult," Medea said.

"Thank you for your concern. Are we friends? I feel like I should know you but I cannot quite place how," I said innocently.

"We were not exactly friends. Our relationship was complicated. But that is all in the past now. Maybe we can start fresh," Medea said.

"I would like that. It is hard being here and not remembering anything. Having friendly faces around would help," I said.

Medea actually smiled, and some of the tension left her shoulders. She thought I had forgotten everything she did to me. She thought she was safe from my anger.
I let her believe it.
I returned the smile—small, polite, almost warm—and watched relief bloom in her eyes. That was the mistake people always made. They assumed silence meant forgiveness. That restraint meant weakness.
But I remembered everything.
Every lie. Every theft. Every moment she had stolen my voice, my place, my son. Anger burned beneath my skin, cold and patient, sharpened by time. Rage rushed in loud and messy. Vengeance waited.
And I had learned to wait very well.
Medea didn’t need to fear my anger.
She needed to fear my control.
Because when I finally moved, there would be no warning at all.

"If you need anything while you are here just let me know. I am happy to help," Medea said.

"That is very kind of you. Actually I was wondering if you could show me around the pack house. King Lucian has been busy with meetings and I would love to have a tour from someone who knows the place well," I said.

"Of course. I would be happy to show you around," Medea said.

We walked through the pack house together and Medea pointed out different rooms and told me stories about what happened in each place. She was trying to paint herself in a good light and make it seem like we had been friendly before.

"This was the Luna's office where you used to work. You were very organized and efficient. Everyone respected you," Medea said as we passed a door.

"Really? I wish I could remember that. It sounds nice," I said.

"And this hallway leads to the family wing where the Alpha and Luna live. You and Raphael had rooms there before everything happened," Medea continued.

"Before everything happened? What do you mean?" I asked pretending to be curious.

"Oh nothing important. Just some unfortunate events that are better left in the past," Medea said quickly.

She did not want to remind me of my exile because she was afraid it might trigger my memories. Perfect. That was exactly the reaction I wanted.

Later that evening Raphael asked to speak with me privately. Lucian gave me a look that asked if I was okay with that and I nodded. I wanted to see how Raphael would react to my supposed amnesia.

We sat in his office and Raphael looked at me with such sadness in his eyes.

"Is it true? You really do not remember anything about us? About our life together?" Raphael asked.

"I am sorry but no. Lucian has told me we were mates once but I do not remember what that was like. I do not remember you at all," I said.

Raphael looked like I had just stabbed him in the heart. He had been hoping I would remember him and our history. The fact that I claimed not to hurt him deeply.
For a brief second, the Alpha mask slipped. The confidence, the authority—gone. What remained was something raw and unguarded, a man faced with the realization that the past he clung to no longer existed for me.
“I see,” he said quietly, though his voice betrayed him.
I didn’t correct myself. Couldn’t. Whatever we had once been belonged to a different version of me—one who no longer fit inside this life. Holding onto it would only reopen wounds that had never truly healed.
Raphael straightened, rebuilding his composure piece by piece, but the damage was already done.
Some truths didn’t need to be spoken aloud.
They were felt.
And this one had cut deeper than any blade.

"We were happy once. Before everything went wrong. We were going to build a life together and lead this pack. You were an amazing Luna and I was proud to have you as my mate," Raphael said.

"That sounds wonderful. What happened? Why are we not together anymore?" I asked innocently.

Raphael struggled with how to answer that. He could not tell me he exiled me because that would make him look terrible. But he also could not lie, because other people knew the truth.
The silence stretched, heavy and conspicuous. I watched it dawn on him—the trap of his own making. Any version of the story that painted him as merciful would unravel the moment someone else spoke. And they would. Packs had long memories when injustice was involved.
“I… believed it was necessary at the time,” he finally said, choosing his words with care.
 “There were accusations… Tensions. I acted to preserve order.” Not justice. Not truth.
A murmur rippled through the room, and I felt the shift—sympathy bleeding away, replaced by scrutiny. Raphael held my gaze, searching for something—permission, perhaps. Or absolution.
I offered neither.
Because no matter how carefully he framed it, the truth remained unchanged.
He had chosen the pack’s comfort over my life.
And everyone here knew it.

"We had some misunderstandings and problems. Things fell apart and you left the pack. It was a difficult time for everyone," Raphael said carefully.

"I see. Well I am sorry I do not remember any of it. But I am happy with my life now. King Lucian is a wonderful mate and I have my son Asher. I do not dwell on the past that I cannot remember," I said.

"Asher. Our son. Do you remember him at all?" Raphael asked.

"He is my son not ours. The DNA tests proved that. But no I do not have memories of his birth or his early life. When I found him again five years after my exile it was like meeting him for the first time," I said.

"That must have been hard for you," Raphael said.

"If I remember I will let you know. But I would not count on it. The doctors said my memory loss is likely permanent," I said.

After I left Raphael's office I felt satisfied with how the conversation went. He was hurt and confused and off balance. That was exactly what I needed.

By the end of the first week in Brazen Pack I had made significant progress. People trusted me again. They talked openly around me. And I was getting closer to finding the proof I needed about my family's murders.

The convenient amnesia had given me exactly what I needed. Access and opportunity.

Now I just had to use them wisely.