I lived as a ghos

n the fender, but it was enough. He woke up claiming amnesia, his memory wiped clean of t

remembered his

d Sabrina Duffy, his

fied caregiver. I watched Sabrina move into our Georgetown house, sleep in our bed, and stand by

n't my own humiliation

reatable with the right specialist, the right connecti

outside his home office, the

Johns Hopkins. Your office just needs to

ced, vacant expression. He adjus

, who are

hat's our son, Leo, in the upstairs bedr

er of annoyance in his eyes.

said, his voice cold and

ior reporter, tipped off by Ethan's staff, ambushed him as he was leaving

e your wife says your son is critic

tal waiting room. Ethan looked directly into the c

t know this woman.

two day

ranged, Ethan was on a morning news show. The host a

sympathy. "It's a terrible tragedy. Just some kid.

of pain. I walked past Ethan's study. The door was ajar. He was on the phone, his

knew it was Sabrina. "Leo's death? It cements my image. The tragic, sympa

e wall, my breath c

ve a miraculous recovery. I'll remember everything. I'll remember her. She'll be so overjo

lted. The fl

ole time. He let our so

allized into something hard and sharp. He wasn't just a man I did