The President's Forgotten Son

When Cole Barnes lost his memory in a bike wreck, he didn't just forget his name — he forgot me, and the three years we shared. I told myself it was a mercy. I left. I never told him I was pregnant. Seven years later, our son started asking questions and I ran out of lies. I went back to the Forgotten Sons compound with a boy who has Cole's eyes and Cole's stubborn jaw. Something in his broken brain snapped back. He remembered everything — the way I laughed, the way I left, the way he begged me. He also remembered the night our son was conceived. He wants the truth. He wants his son. He wants me. And the club's enemies are circling, because a president with unreliable memories is a liability. When they take our son, Cole has to choose: the safety of forgetting, or the courage of remembering. He remembers. He rides. He wins. And this time, I'm staying.