The Crash Left My Husband With the Mind of a Child

When my husband from the arranged marriage lost his memory, I couldn't resist messing with him. “Adrian. Say 'Boss.'“ The man in the hospital bed hugged his pillow and looked up at me like a good little boy. “Boss.” I nodded, satisfied. Perfect. A whole year of marriage, and he never once called me his wife. One car crash, and he'd been demoted to calling me Boss. Adrian and I had an arranged marriage. I did it for my family's dying factory. After the wedding he was colder than the fridge. We slept in separate rooms. He wouldn't eat my cooking and wouldn't take my calls. He even saved my number in his phone as “the Bell girl.” I lived in the Crane house more carefully than the hired help. His mother thought I was poor. His aunt thought I was trash. Adrian thought I was an eyesore. Then came the crash. A clot pressing on the nerves in his brain. The doctor said his mind had rolled back to about six years old. I looked at the man in the bed, clutching my sleeve and refusing to let go, and on the inside, I was glowing. Payback. My moment had finally come. I wanted money. I wanted revenge. I wanted a divorce and a clean getaway. Chapter 1 “Boss, no shots.” All six-foot-two of Adrian Crane lay balled up under the hospital blanket, a single tuft of hair sticking out. The nurse held the tray, biting back a laugh. I snapped the chart shut and aimed it at the lump under the covers. “Adrian. Out.” The lump didn't move. I leaned down to his ear. “Take the shot and you get a chicken leg.” The blanket flew off. The nurse moved fast, and the needle went in. His eyes flooded instantly and his mouth crumpled, but he held it in and didn't cry. I felt amazing. Once, when I was running a fever of a hundred and three, all he gave me was four cold words. “Call the family doctor.” What goes around. The doctor came in. “Mrs. Crane, your husband's cognition has regressed temporarily. Recovery time is uncertain.” “He's extremely insecure right now. Whatever you do, don't upset him.” Uncertain? I almost laughed out loud. “Take all the time he needs. I'm in no rush.” I'd just stepped out for water when a voice like vinegar cut down the hallway. “Romy Bell.” Adrian's mother, Vivian Crane, came clicking down the corridor in her heels, her face screaming “you gold-digging nobody”. “Adrian's going straight to the care home out past the city. The family can't let a man who's lost his mind run things.” I smirked. Care home, sure. More like house arrest and a power grab. “Mom, he’s just lost his memory, not dead.” Her face dropped. “Watch your mouth. Hand him over, take your check, and crawl back to the Bells.” “I'm not going.” Inside the room, Adrian hugged a pillow. The second he saw Vivian, he shrank back in terror. Something cold dropped in my stomach. The Adrian who used to flip tables in the boardroom, and his first instinct was to be afraid of his own mother? That wasn't right. Vivian softened her voice. “Adrian. Come with Mommy.” He shook his head so hard it blurred, darted behind me, and clamped onto the hem of my shirt. “Only Boss.” Vivian looked like she wanted to skin me alive. “Don't think you can milk this just because he's lost his mind.” I smiled, sweet and shameless. “Relax, Mom. When I milk something, I always know exactly how much to take.” She turned livid with rage. That night, I took Adrian home to our marital house. He walked in clutching the $9.99 pothos I'd bought on the way, holding it for dear life. Walter, the butler, came to meet us, blinking. “Ma'am, what's the—” I pointed at the plant. “The young master. His new son.” Adrian corrected me, very serious. “He's my brother. Sprout.” Walter shut his mouth at the speed of light. I sat Adrian down on the couch and made up a set of house rules on the spot. “One, call me Boss. Two, do what Boss says. Three, when Boss says divorce, you clap.” Adrian blinked. “What's divorce?” “It's when Boss takes the money and goes off to live the good life.” “What about me?” “You keep hugging your brother there.” He thought it over for three solid seconds, then nodded gravely. “Okay. I'll clap for Boss.” Looking at that clear, dumb little face, something sour slid through my chest for one second. The next second, the front door slammed open. Tessa Crane, my sister-in-law, came storming in, furious. “Romy Bell. Hand over the company seal and the signing papers Adrian's holding. Don't think you're keeping it all.” I clapped the rulebook shut. “He's barely out of the hospital, and you don't ask whether he's alive or dead, you ask for a seal. What filial family you are.” Tessa raised her hand to slap me. “Drop the act. You married in for the money.” I nodded, generous. “Obviously. Which is why I'm a professional. Unlike you people, choking on your own greed.” She lost it, and the slap came down. A throw pillow hit her in the face. Adrian planted himself in front of me. “Bad guy. Nobody hurts Boss.” Tessa stood there stunned, then shrieked and fled. I stared at the broad shoulders in front of me. Dumb, sure. But useful. The next second he turned and held out a hand. “Boss, I saved you. Chicken leg now.” Chapter 2 Back at the Crane house, I used to spend money carefully. I'd check the discount before buying a nightgown. It wasn't that they didn't give me money. It was that the way they gave it turned my stomach. Every month Vivian wired ten grand into my account for “living expenses.” The memo line read: Bell family welfare. The first time I saw it, I nearly crushed my phone. But I needed the money. My dad's factory had payroll due, suppliers blocking the gates, and my mother wept every single day. So I swallowed it. Now it was different. Adrian had gone simple. A simpleton's money still has to be spent where it matters. On what matters to me, of course. The next day, with Adrian's black card in hand, I figured I'd move a little cash to plug the holes in my family's factory. The second I tried, the lawyer called. “Ma'am, any large transfer has to be confirmed by Mr. Crane in a lucid state.” I glanced at Adrian, who was busy wiping the leaves of the pothos. “He's perfectly lucid.” Adrian looked up. “Sprout says he's cold.” I said nothing. Mr. Hartley said nothing. Finally he said, “I'd advise against it.” I hung up. Fine. The big money was locked, so I'd make fast money instead. I looked around the absurdly oversized mansion with its climate-controlled glass room, and a lightbulb went off. An hour later, one post lit up the whole rich-wife crowd. [Stunning estate, afternoon-tea photo spot. $800 an hour. Tea not included. Free photo op with a wild CEO NPC. Look, don't touch.] All slots were snatched up in less than half a day. When the first batch of socialites stepped through the door, Adrian came downstairs looking utterly innocent, clad in silk pajamas and holding Sprout in his arms. A collective gasp swept through the room. I leaned in and whispered instructions to him, “Go on, say welcome.” Adrian nodded obediently, flashing a row of pearly white teeth. “Welcome.” The socialites went feral, racing to pay and tack on extra time. Damn this CEO’s money-making good looks—twenty-three thousand earned in half a day! I counted the balance on my phone, thrilled. Adrian wandered over gnawing a fried chicken leg. “Is Boss happy making money? Then I'll say 'welcome' every day.” I looked away, refusing to meet those shining eyes. “Don't be cute. No commission.” I hadn't even finished dinner when Vivian showed up with Gerald Crane, the uncle who always smiled and never meant it, and two bodyguards. “Romy Bell, you're charging admission to the Crane house like it's a zoo? Have you no shame?” Vivian slammed the table. I lifted my teacup. “Mom, cutting the line for a photo costs extra.” Gerald held her back with a smile that never reached his eyes. “Romy, dear. Since Adrian isn't lucid, the company seal he's holding should come back to the Group.” Here we go. These two were after the one seal that could move billions in deals. Adrian, who'd been silently demolishing his chicken leg, suddenly looked up and mumbled, “Seal's in the fish's belly.” Gerald and I both turned to the aquarium that took up an entire wall. Inside, a prize black arowana blew arrogant little bubbles. Gerald's expression flickered. He forced a chuckle. “Kids. They make things up.” My mind raced. So these two didn't actually know where the seal was. They'd come today to bluff me. Adrian had gone simple, and his mouth had sprung a leak. I stood up fast and grabbed the ashtray off the coffee table. “Uncle Gerald. He's days out of the hospital and you're already eyeing his things. Bit much, isn't it?” Gerald couldn't hold his face together. Vivian said coldly, “Romy Bell. Don't touch what you shouldn't.” I smiled. “I won't touch it.” “I'll call the cops.” Chapter 3 Vivian shook with rage as Gerald dragged her out. The moment they left, I bolted the door and got someone to pull the security footage from before the crash. The footage showed Gerald entering the study the night before the accident. When he came out, the two of them argued hard, and Gerald slammed out. “That man's bad,” Adrian said, pointing at Gerald on the screen. I called a guy out that night to net the arowana. Adrian sniffled beside me. “Don't kill the fishy.” “Not killing it. Just running a test.” In a crevice of the fake rock at the bottom of the tank, the guy dug out a waterproof box. It wasn't in the fish's belly at all. The simpleton's memory was scrambled, but his instincts were still intact. I opened the box. Two seals, and a note. Adrian's handwriting: [If something happens to me, don't trust the Cranes. Don't trust the Bells either.] My fingers went numb. The Bells? My own family? My phone buzzed like mad right then. My mother. “Romy, your dad's factory has debt collectors at the gate. Hurry, get Adrian to pull out some more money.” I stared at the note in my hand. “Mom, Adrian's sick. He doesn't even know who he is.” She got frantic. “Sick or not, he's still got money. You want to watch your little brother go without tuition?” I didn't say anything else. I hung up. In the living room, Adrian sat on the floor hugging the pothos, playing with a toy car. He rolled it over to my feet. “Boss, get in. Run.” I looked at him. “Run where?” “Bad guys come, you run.” Something went tight in my chest. A whole year married into the Cranes, and all I'd thought about was getting money to save the Bells. I thought I’d sacrificed myself willingly. But now Adrian's note was telling me the Bells weren't clean either. Chapter 4 The next day, the photo business reopened. I needed money, and I needed crowds. Crowds meant the Cranes couldn't grab him in the open. Sure enough, Vivian came back again. No bodyguards this time. She brought a doctor. The doctor walked in and went straight for an evaluation of Adrian. I blocked him. “Which hospital?” The doctor pushed up his glasses. “Private team.” “Are you licensed?” Vivian sneered. “Don't play expert, Romy.” I dialed the medical board on the spot. The doctor turned to leave. From behind the staircase, Adrian whispered, “Fake doctor.” I looked at him. “How did you find out?” “His shoes are like the uncle's.” I looked down. The doctor's dress shoes really were the same custom pair Gerald always wore. It wasn't exactly hard evidence. But it was disgusting enough. As I forced Vivian out, she threw one last line over her shoulder. “You think you're worth something? Go ask your dad why Adrian married you.” The smile slid off my face. That afternoon, I drove back to the Bell factory. I pushed open the office door. My dad, Frank Bell, was smoking. The second he saw me, it slipped out. “Where's the money?” I cut straight to the point. “Dad. Why did Adrian marry me, back then?” Frank's hand jerked, and ash burned into his leg. “It was an arranged match,” he said. “Arranged? Our junk little factory was good enough to marry into the Cranes?” I stared him down. “What actually happened?” My brother, Danny, came in. “Sis, stop pushing him.” “The loan shark behind that debt was Gerald Crane.” “Gerald wanted you. Dad already signed. He was going to hand you to Gerald as a mistress to clear the debt.” My head rang like someone had cracked it with a hammer. “Gerald?” I stared at Frank. “He's two years older than you. You were going to make me his mistress?” Frank couldn't look at me. He stammered, “I had no choice. He said he'd break my legs.” “And Adrian?” I kept my eyes locked on him. Danny said through tears, “Adrian found out. He married you himself, on purpose.” So it was never an arranged match. My own parents were going to shove me at an old creep to clear a debt. And the husband who'd given me cold looks for a year had used a marriage to drag me out of the fire. My mother rushed in, sobbing, snot and tears, grabbing at me. “Romy, I had no choice either. In the end you married Adrian just fine, didn't you? You've got food, clothes, nothing to want.” I threw her hand off. I thought I was the dutiful eldest daughter, bearing it all. To them, I was just an asset to be cashed in. “From today on, the Bells live or die on their own. Not my problem.” “How dare you!” Frank slammed the table and roared. I wouldn't even waste another look on him. I turned and left. I'd just reached the factory gate when Walter called, his voice all panic. “Ma'am. The uncle just took someone, said he was taking the young master for a checkup. The young master's been put in a car.” Gerald had grabbed Adrian while I was gone. My head rang again. I flagged a cab and gave the name of Gerald's favorite haunt, the Crescent Club. The driver saw how pale I was. “Catching a cheater, miss?” I stared straight ahead. “Rushing to grab back my idiot.”