The Billionaire's Forgotten Wife

His touch sent revulsion rippling across my skin. I recoiled instantly, pushing his hand away with two fingers as if he were contagious. Asher's expression darkened. "What's wrong with you?" I scrambled for an excuse, but Jessica saved me the trouble. "Asher?" Her voice floated from the bathroom, sugary and helpless. "How do I turn on the shower?" He didn't hesitate. "Don't touch anything—the floor's slippery. I'm coming." As he rushed to her aid, I slipped back into my bedroom and locked the door, leaning against the wood as silence finally descended. My hands trembled as I dialed Sophie. She picked up immediately, her voice vibrating with rage. "That absolute bastard! After everything he did to marry you? The vows, the sacrifices? It's barely been a few years, and he drags a mistress into your home?" "What exactly did he do?" I asked. "You keep talking about how much he loved me." Listening to her account, I struggled to reconcile the devoted husband she described with the nemesis I remembered. According to Sophie, everything changed ten years ago. Asher and I had gotten into a vicious argument over a business project that ended with both of us falling from a rooftop. He escaped with stitches. I suffered a severe fracture that led to a secondary infection—ended up in the ICU, fighting for my life. For that entire month, Asher camped outside the ICU doors. Chain-smoked until his voice was raw. Eyes bloodshot from sleeplessness. Refused to leave his post. Sophie said facing my possible death broke him. He realized his hatred for me had been a waste of time. Confessed to the empty corridor that if heaven gave him another chance, he would never let go. When I finally woke up, he collapsed. The man who prided himself on bleeding without shedding a tear held me and wept openly, oblivious to onlookers. The man who never believed in gods knelt in the hospital hallway, praying in gratitude. From that day on, he changed. Reined in his temper. Handed the disputed project over to me without a fight. Stopped obstructing my business deals. Even learned to cook, determined to nurse me back to health personally. Before the accident, Asher had been a notorious playboy—always surrounded by rumors and starlets. He cut them all off. Cleanly. Ruthlessly. At the ribbon-cutting ceremony for his new company, he raised a diamond ring in front of the press, declaring he would love only me for the rest of his life. Instituted a public rule: any woman had to stay at least three meters away from him. He was serious. Fired female employees who violated the boundary, causing a city-wide uproar. Everyone knew the arrogant Asher Vance had tamed his wild nature solely for me. Sophie's story sounded like a fairy tale. It didn't match the jagged edges of my memory. I only remembered that Asher and I had been mortal enemies since childhood. If I scored first place, he poured ink on my textbook. I shredded his class notes in retaliation. During our final exams, he deliberately spread rumors about my father's affair to rattle me. I retaliated by finding his family's illegitimate child and bringing him to school, instructing the boy to call Asher "Big Brother" in front of everyone. His face went pale with rage. Graduation didn't end the war—just moved it to the boardroom. Whatever industry we entered became a fight to the death. He instructed his staff to overwater the expensive "money trees" in my office until they rotted. I broke into his estate and plucked the feathers off his prized goose. The next time he hosted a VIP partner, the bald, furious goose attacked the client. The deal fell through. I laughed until my sides ached. Yet when our animosity peaked, the line between hate and lust blurred. We'd argue in his office until our faces were flushed, verbal sparring turning physical until neither of us knew who kissed whom first. Uncontrollable. Fueled by adrenaline and rage. The next morning, I'd kick him out of bed, mocking his performance. "Lousy technique." "You're just frigid," he'd retort, buttoning his shirt. Despite the insults, our hotel receipts piled up. He never asked me to be his girlfriend. Never mentioned love. On Valentine's Day, roses would arrive with a card simply signed: Boyfriend. We played cruel games. If he was angry, he'd find a starlet and kiss her passionately by the fountain, dark eyes fixed on me the entire time. I found it amusing. I'd grab the nearest handsome waiter, loop my arms around his neck, and flirt. While admiring the waiter's flushed cheeks, I'd listen with satisfaction to the sound of a glass shattering in Asher's grip across the room.

I never planned to build a life with Asher Vance. We were too alike—two apex predators constantly at each other's throats. Our relationship was sparks and hostility, violent venting rather than affection. So when my memory regressed to pure hatred and I discovered he had a mistress, I didn't feel betrayed. I felt relieved. "I'm filing for divorce," I told Sophie. "Divorce?" Her voice pitched up. "You? You worship the ground that man walks on. You'd never leave him." Sophie was adamant I loved him to the bone—a conviction that baffled me. According to her, Asher treated me like a queen. But I knew myself. I wasn't the type to be moved by kindness or material gestures. Was there a hidden reason I had stayed? The next morning, I drafted the divorce agreement and placed it on the breakfast table. Asher stared at the papers, jaw tightening. "I bring her home for one night, and you immediately jump to divorce?" "Judging by the screaming last night, you two are clearly in love." I shrugged. "I'm stepping aside." My words only fueled his rage. He snatched the agreement, tore it to confetti, and slammed me against the door. His grip on my wrists was iron, bruising. "Listen to me," he hissed. "The only way you leave this marriage is as a widow. Divorce is not an option." I stared into his furious eyes and slapped him. "Psycho." "Morning." Jessica sauntered out wearing nothing but Asher's dress shirt. Her neck and collarbone were a canvas of fresh bite marks. "It's a bit hot in here," she murmured, tugging the collar wider to expose mottled skin on her chest. She waited for tears or a defeated collapse. Instead, I walked over and pulled the fabric back up. "Your chest is flat," I said. "Don't show it off. People might think we're starving you." Her face twisted. She shot a pleading look at Asher. He caught my arm, voice low. "Apologize." I had no interest in arguing with a cheater and his mistress. I waved dismissively at the opulent living room. "Fine. Take whatever you like. Consider it my apology gift." Jessica's gaze swept the room before landing on the jewelry cabinet. She pointed at a specific piece. "I want that one." Hundreds of rings, all rare gems worth fortunes. Yet with surgical precision, she'd chosen our wedding band. Asher froze, eyes locking onto mine. The housekeeper stepped forward. "Miss, you cannot take that. That is the Young Master and Madam's wedding ring." I walked to the cabinet. "It's fine. Let her have it." With my memories gone, the ring felt vaguely familiar but held no weight. I had drawers full of jewelry. Losing one band meant nothing. I plucked the ring from its velvet cushion and tossed it to her. Asher looked as though I'd struck him. "You're just... giving it away?" I blinked. "Is it expensive?" He stared into my indifferent eyes, teeth grinding. "Of course not." Fueled by spite, he snatched the ring and slid it onto Jessica's finger. "Wear it properly." He turned to leave, dragging her with him. "Young Master," the housekeeper called, voice trembling. "Today is the Madam's birthday." We both paused. Jessica immediately slumped against him. "You should go with your wife, Asher. I know I've been waiting months for this cruise, but... I'm not important." Asher's expression hardened. "Jessica has been looking forward to this trip. We have birthdays every year—missing one won't kill you. Besides, she's pregnant. Don't be petty." I nodded. "Have fun." He frowned. My lack of reaction unsettled him, but before he could analyze it, Jessica pulled him out the door. Once they were gone, I dialed Sophie. "I need a report," I said. "Every asset and enterprise under my name from the last ten years." Ten years ago, I was a career-obsessed shark. Compared to a man whose heart had wandered, I was far more interested in cold, hard cash.

Confirming my assets remained substantial brought a rare moment of satisfaction. Ignoring the throbbing ache in my limbs, I dragged my cast-encased left leg and right arm out the door. I had a company to inspect. My peace was short-lived. Asher's name flashed on my phone. The moment I answered, his voice lashed out. "What did you do to Jessica? I'm warning you, Leah—if she loses so much as a hair, I won't let you off." "I'm sitting in my office drinking coffee," I replied flatly. "You're the one who took her on a cruise. If you lost your mistress, look in the mirror, not at me." His tone dropped to ice. "Don't play innocent. You don't need to be present to orchestrate a murder, do you?" Before I could retort, the office door crashed open. Men in dark suits swarmed in and seized me before I could make a sound. The burlap sack was ripped from my head, blinding me with sudden light. I blinked—already on the cruise ship's deck. Jessica huddled against Asher, her skin bruised and pale, trembling like a frightened doe. "Asher, I'm terrified," she sobbed into his chest. "They tied my hands and feet... weighed me down with rocks and threw me in. If you hadn't come..." So that was the narrative. Someone tried to drown her, Asher saved her, and I was the designated villain. "I told you why I couldn't be there for your birthday," Asher spat, his eyes burning with disappointment. "She's never been on a cruise. She's waited years for this. How could you be so vicious?" I met his glare without flinching. "I didn't touch her. What proof do you have?" "Proof? We bought this ship together. Only two people hold the keys—you and me. Unless you're suggesting Jessica unlocked the doors for her own killer?" I paused. The logic was tight, but the setup was obvious. If he wanted a monster, I'd give him one. I let out a low, chilling laugh. "You're right. It was me." The admission froze the air. Both Asher and Jessica stared, stunned. "Why wouldn't I? I'm jealous she's carrying your bastard. What if she tries to take my place?" My gaze drifted to her slightly bulging stomach, my voice dropping to a whisper. "As long as I'm Mrs. Vance, she is nothing. I only sank her this time. Next time..." I let the threat hang, my eyes curving into a smile that didn't reach my soul. "I guarantee I'll make it one corpse, two lives." "You lunatic," he breathed. "She's just a cheap mistress," I sneered. "Does she really think getting knocked up earns her the throne? I have plenty more methods. Just wait." Asher moved in a blur. His hand cracked across my cheek, the sound echoing across the deck. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, forcing my head back. I glared up at him, face burning, refusing to show weakness. Right. This is how it should be between us. He slammed a document onto the table. "Sign it." A divorce agreement. I arched a brow. So much for the man who said "there is only widowhood, no divorce" this morning. He certainly changed his tune quickly. I took the pen. As the tip touched paper, a phantom pain squeezed my chest. Despite the amnesia, a bitter taste flooded my mouth—a reflex from a heart I no longer recognized. The emotion flickered and died, replaced by a surge of relief. I signed with a flourish. Clutching the agreement, I turned to leave. But Asher's hand clamped around my wrist like a manacle. "You think you can leave that easily?" "We're divorced. What more do you want?" "Didn't you say you had plenty of methods?" His lips curved, but his eyes were ice. "Let's see how you handle mine first." He gestured to his men. "Throw her into the sea." My blood went cold. "Are you insane?" I screamed, backing away. "I have casts on my arm and leg! I'll sink like a stone!" He didn't look back. He walked into the cabin, leaving me to his guards. I wanted to fight, but with my limbs in plaster, I was helpless. Rough hands bound my wrists and ankles, tying a heavy stone to my legs. As I struggled, Jessica approached. The fragility was gone. Her posture straightened, and a triumphant smirk replaced her tears. She leaned in, breath hot against my ear. "Sister, you've warmed the seat of Mrs. Vance long enough. It's my turn." She chuckled. "I was wondering how to get rid of you, but look at you—delivering yourself right to death's door." "Do I hold a grudge against you?" I didn't answer. A single, light shove, and I was falling. Saltwater flooded my mouth and nose, drowning my scream. The ocean swallowed me whole—stinging my eyes, setting the fresh wound on my body ablaze. I thrashed, kicking and clawing upward, but the stone tied to my legs dragged me down like an anchor into the abyss. Oxygen gone. Darkness closing in. Just as consciousness began to fracture, a shadow eclipsed the faint light above. A tall figure dove through the water toward me. In the murky haze, soft, cold lips pressed against mine, forcing a breath of life into my burning lungs.