My Husband Faked Amnesia, So Did I

After Ethan was rescued from the fire, he claimed he'd lost his memory.

He remembered everyone but me. His own wife of five years. Completely forgotten.

To keep his little assistant around, he called me a desperate, clingy lunatic in public.

At first, I thought the injury had messed with his head. So I held back my pain and took care of him.

Then I found out it was all an act. A disgusting lie to replace me with someone younger.

Since he loved to act, I decided to play along. I'd pretend to lose my memory too.

Right in front of him, I threw my arms around the most powerful heir without hesitation and called him "husband" in the sweetest voice.

Today was my birthday.

At ten o'clock at night, Ethan Grey still hadn't come home.

I called him, but his personal assistant Susan answered instead.

On the other end, Ethan's voice was muffled and indulgent. "Susan, stop fooling around."

I hung up in fury and sent him a text about divorce.

One minute later, Ethan's call came through. "Miranda Walsh, are you ever going to stop? I booked a hotel. I'll celebrate your birthday there, okay?"

Not wanting to ruin my birthday completely, I reluctantly took a cab to South Mountain.

But halfway up the mountainside, the road ahead was completely blocked by police tape.

South Mountain Restaurant had caught fire. The flames had turned half the sky red.

I don't know how I made it to the emergency building at City Hospital.

The nurse's station told me he was in a special care room on the third floor.

I didn't even wait for the elevator. I ran up the emergency stairs like a madwoman, losing a shoe along the way without bothering to pick it up.

At the hospital room door, it was left slightly ajar.

I pushed it open.

Ethan was wearing a hospital gown with a white gauze bandage on his forehead, sitting safely against the headboard.

And his arms were wrapped tightly around a completely uninjured woman.

It was Susan, the assistant who'd been fooling around with him on the phone.

Ethan was looking down at her, coaxing her in a gentle voice. "As long as I'm here, I'll never let anything happen to you."

I froze in the doorway, my nails digging into my palms.

Hearing the door open, Susan jumped out of his embrace like she'd been electrocuted.

She turned around, looking at me with reddened eyes, though a barely perceptible flash of panic crossed her gaze. "Miranda..."

Ethan's eyes followed.

The tender look from moments ago turned to ice the instant he saw me.

He showed no guilt at being caught in an affair. He pulled Susan behind him, his defensive gaze sweeping over me from head to toe.

"Who are you? Who gave you permission to barge into my hospital room?"

I stood stunned, my breathing stopped for a beat.

"Ethan, what kind of joke is this?" I forced down my trembling voice and took a step forward. "I'm Miranda Walsh! I'm your wife!"

"Wife?"

Ethan let out a cold laugh, his lips full of mockery.

"Did you suffer some kind of shock that made you lose your mind?" Ethan's eyes were ice cold, his ridicule merciless. "Even if my brain got burned by the fire, I would never marry you."

I stared at him in disbelief. "What?"

Susan hid behind him and spoke timidly. "Mr. Grey, the doctor said you inhaled dense smoke that damaged your nerves, causing retrograde amnesia. Miranda... she really is your wife."

Ethan's expression instantly darkened.

He grasped Susan's hand in return, his tone somewhat displeased. "Susan, you don't need to speak up for her. The only person I've ever loved in my life is you. I've never been married!"

He stared at me intensely, his eyes full of undisguised rejection.

"Even if I did get married, who knows what methods she used to force me! Please leave immediately and stop disturbing us!"

"What methods did I use to force you?" I laughed bitterly, my whole body trembling as I raised my left hand.

The diamond wedding ring on my ring finger stung my eyes.

"Ethan, this is the matching ring you personally put on my finger five years ago when you knelt in front of the entire company and begged me to marry you! Our initials are even engraved inside!"

I thought this ring he'd personally designed would awaken some sense of familiarity in him.

But Ethan only glanced at it coldly.

Then without hesitation, he removed the men's ring from his own hand and casually tossed it into the trash can.

"You bought a matching ring and think you can scam me?" Ethan's eyes were full of disdain.

I felt struck by lightning, frozen in place, even breathing felt like it was tearing at my lungs.

Susan's eyes reddened as she tugged at his sleeve. "Mr. Grey, Miranda looks so pitiful. What if she really is..."

"Susan, you're just too naive." Ethan's tone instantly turned tender. "Even if she produces a marriage certificate, it would be a fake."

He looked up at me again, his expression changing with chilling speed.

"You've made Susan cry." He pointed at the hospital room door. "Get out with your things! Don't make me call security!"

The door was urgently pushed open from outside.

Lucas came in carrying several brain CT scan films.

Seeing the tense atmosphere, he quickly stepped in front of me. "Miranda, Miranda, calm down! Didn't I tell you outside just now that Ethan can't handle stimulation right now?"

"He threw away his wedding ring!" I said with reddened eyes, grabbing Lucas by the collar. "Lucas, you tell me what's wrong with him? How could a perfectly fine person suddenly forget the past five years completely?"

Lucas's eyes darted around frantically, not daring to meet my gaze.

He coughed twice and forcibly pried my hands away, half-pushing, half-dragging me toward the door.

"The brain impact injured his hippocampus. This type of retrograde amnesia is rare medically, but it does exist. Ethan's memory is stuck five years ago, right before he met you."

"What about Susan?" I gritted my teeth, pointing into the room. "He forgot everyone else, so why is he so devoted to a mere assistant?"

Lucas swallowed, guiltily fabricating lies. "The fire was critical. Susan stayed by his side the whole time. It might be a psychological thing. He subconsciously sees Susan as a lifeline, even mistaking her for his first love."

"First love?" My tears finally fell.

Lucas pushed me out of the hospital room and closed the door behind us.

"Miranda, arguing with him now won't help. He's a patient. The more you push him, the more he'll resent you."

"If you want him to recover his memory, you need to go along with him. Don't try to stimulate him with things from the past anymore."

After saying this, Lucas left and returned to the doctor's office.

I stood alone in the corridor.

Barefoot on one side, my dress hem covered in black soot from the fire rescue.

Through the glass window in the door, I watched the man I'd loved for five years.

He was holding a cup of warm water, carefully bringing it to Susan's lips.

Susan took a sip and smiled sweetly at him. Ethan's eyes overflowed with adoration.

I covered my face and slid down the cold wall to sit on the floor.

The day Ethan was discharged, I went to the hospital to pick him up.

But the room was already empty.

The nurse checked the bed records and told me, "Mr. Grey completed his discharge paperwork two hours ago. Miss Susan left with him."

I suppressed the bitterness in my heart and dialed Ethan's number.

It rang for a long time before connecting.

"Ethan, why didn't you tell me you were being discharged?"

He didn't say a word and hung up directly.

When I called again, I'd been blocked.

I stood in the hospital's empty corridor like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.

Even if he'd forgotten my status as his wife of five years, he shouldn't be avoiding me like this, right?

That evening, my phone suddenly vibrated.

It was a message from Susan.

When I opened the image, all the blood in my body instantly flowed backward, and my breathing stopped.

In the photo was a large double bed.

On the nightstand sat two half-finished glasses of red wine.

Most jarring of all was a men's white dress shirt casually draped over the foot of the bed, alongside a silk nightgown.

That white shirt was the custom-made one I'd personally selected for Ethan during my business trip to Paris last month.

The room's dcor was unmistakably from Ethan's luxury apartment in the city center.

Susan's message came through, every word reeking of nauseating pretense.

"Miranda, I'm truly sorry for disturbing you so late at night."

"Ethan... he's very dependent on me right now. He insisted I move in to take care of him. The doctor said he can't handle stress, so I couldn't refuse."

"You must be heartbroken seeing this, but love can't be forced. He only remembers me now and treats me so well he'd give his life for me."

"Miranda, for Ethan's health, please do a good deed and let us be together. He told me that as long as you agree to divorce, he'll give you satisfactory compensation."

Every word was like a knife stabbing into my heart.

My hands shook with rage as I immediately clicked into Susan's social media.

Ten minutes ago, she'd posted something visible only to me.

In the photo, she wore that oversized men's shirt, clearly Ethan's.

She stood in the kitchen, turning to smile shyly at the camera.

The caption read: "I'm still getting over being sick, and someone insists on making me a midnight snack. Being spoiled like this feels so good."

On his first day out of the hospital, he'd brought another woman into our home and even allowed his assistant to send me this disgusting provocation.

I gripped my phone so tightly my nails dug into my flesh, blood seeping out without me even noticing.

A massive sense of humiliation mixed with fury instantly consumed all my rationality.

I grabbed my car keys from the coffee table and rushed out the door like a madwoman.

Fifteen minutes later, I kicked open the password-protected door of the luxury apartment.

The password for this place had originally been my birthday. He hadn't even bothered to change it.

The living room was brightly lit, the air thick with the pungent smell of alcohol.

"Susan, you really understand me..."

On the sofa, Ethan was pressing Susan beneath him, their posture intimate.

"Ethan, Miranda just messaged me saying she..."

Before Susan could finish, she caught sight of me out of the corner of her eye and screamed like she'd been electrocuted, shoving Ethan away and frantically grabbing a throw pillow to hold against her chest.

Ethan, interrupted, turned around angrily.

Seeing it was me, the tenderness in his eyes was instantly replaced by extreme disgust.

"Miranda!" He shot to his feet. "Who gave you the nerve to break into my house?"

"Your house?" I said with reddened eyes, glaring at him. "This is marital property! You brought some questionable woman here. Do you have any shame left?"

I roughly pulled free from his grasp and raised my hand to slap the cowering Susan.

But before my hand could land, Ethan intercepted it mid-air.

"You dare touch her? Try it!"

His eyes were cold to the extreme. He jerked his hand violently, and I lost my footing, my ankle twisting painfully as I fell to the floor.

"Miranda, I'll say this one last time."

Ethan straightened his disheveled collar, enunciating each word as a warning. "I don't remember anything. Leave this place immediately. If you dare set foot here again, don't blame me for being ruthless!"

Ethan threw me hard to the floor, my ankle throbbing with pain.

Susan climbed off the sofa, wrapped in Ethan's shirt, and ran over with red eyes to help me up.

"Miranda, are you okay? Ethan didn't mean it. He's just sick and can't control his emotions..."

"Don't touch me!" I violently shook off her hand. Looking at her pretentious face made my stomach churn.

Ethan yanked Susan back into his arms, his eyes sinister and terrifying. "Get out! If I see you acting crazy again, I'll sue you for trespassing!"

I braced myself against the cold floor and stood up.

Looking at this husband who, for the sake of another woman, wouldn't even spare me a glance, I suddenly felt utterly pathetic.

I didn't argue anymore. I limped out that door.

For the next few days, I felt like my soul had been drained. I suffered through sleepless nights.

I kept telling myself, Ethan was just sick. He didn't mean it.

Once he recovered his memory, he would definitely love me like before.

Just as I was about to break down completely, my mother's call suddenly came through.

As soon as I answered, her hysterical crying voice came through. "Miranda, save your brother! Jason was arrested by the police!"

My head buzzed.

"Mom, don't panic. What happened to Jason?"

My brother Jason had just started his senior year of college. Though he was usually a bit wild, he'd never caused trouble this serious.

"He got into a fight tonight and cracked someone's head open! The other family won't let it go. They say they'll make sure he rots in prison! Miranda, find a way to reach Ethan. He knows people. He can definitely get your brother out!"

Hearing my mother's tearful pleading, I broke out in a cold sweat.

But Ethan wouldn't even see me now. He'd even blocked me. How could he possibly help?

"Ethan has been... sick recently. I can't reach him. Let me go to the police station first to check the situation."

"What illness could be more serious than your brother going to prison! Miranda, Jason is your own brother. Even if you have to beg on your knees, get Ethan to help!"

My mother's words were desperate on the phone. "If you don't save your brother, I'll die right in front of you!"

She hung up violently.

I clutched my phone, anxious as an ant on a hot pan.

The other family was causing a scene at the police station, absolutely refusing mediation.

I had no options.

With nowhere else to turn, I could only use another backup number to dial Ethan's phone.

This was, after all, the first time in our five years of marriage that I'd asked him for help.

The phone rang for a long time.

Just as I was about to hang up in despair, it finally connected.

"Hello?"

However, the person who answered wasn't Ethan.

It was Susan.

Her voice was soft and sweet, with a trace of ambiguous hoarseness, accompanied by a series of soft, sticky sounds.

"Susan, give me the phone..."

Ethan's low, husky voice came through the receiver, carrying the intimate indulgence I knew all too well.

"Ethan, hurry up..." Susan complained coquettishly, followed by the sound of kissing and the violent shaking of a mattress.

My brain went blank. All the blood in my body froze in that moment.

The crisp sound of plastic packaging being torn echoed through the silent night, amplified clearly in my ear through the receiver.

I abruptly hung up.

A wave of physiological nausea surged up from my stomach.

I covered my mouth and rushed into the bathroom like a madwoman.

Hunched over the toilet, I nearly vomited up bile.

The husband I'd loved for five years was currently rolling around in bed with another woman.

He'd forgotten me.

But he hadn't forgotten how to flirt with other women.

So his so-called amnesia was just a disgusting cover for his blatant affair!

I sat paralyzed on the cold bathroom floor, my fingers gripping my phone turning white at the knuckles.

I desperately scrolled through my contacts, trying to find someone who could help bail out my brother.

Suddenly, my eyes fixed on a profile with a pure black avatar.

The name displayed: Hunter Shaw.

He was the biggest investor in Ethan's company, supposedly the all-powerful, ruthlessly effective heir of the Shaw family.

Five years ago, at Ethan's annual party, I'd added him on social media. We'd never exchanged a single word since.

I stared at that black avatar, bit my lip, and sent a message.

"Mr. Shaw, sorry to disturb you so late. I'm Miranda. My brother got into trouble. Could I ask for your help?"

As soon as I sent the message, I regretted it.

How could someone like Hunter, a big shot so powerful that even Ethan had to bow and scrape before him, possibly bother with an insignificant woman like me?

Just as I was about to retract the message, my phone screen suddenly lit up.

Not only had Hunter not deleted me.

He'd replied instantly.

On the screen, just one word:

"Address."

Seeing those two words Hunter sent back, I froze for a long time before snapping out of it.

I quickly sent him the police station location and my brother's name.

There was no further reply.

I didn't know why this top-tier mogul would agree to help me with such a small favor.

But right now, I could only grasp at straws.

In less than half an hour, my mother called again.

"Miranda! Jason's fine! The other family suddenly backed down. Not only are they dropping the charges, they even proactively paid for medical expenses! Did you get Ethan to help? I knew it. At critical moments, you still have to rely on your brother-in-law!"

Hearing my mother's grateful tone on the phone, I only felt it was deeply ironic.

My husband was currently tumbling around in bed with another woman.

And the person who truly pulled me out of the mire was a stranger I'd only met once.

I suppressed the churning in my stomach and hung up on my mother.

Opening the chat, I sent Hunter two words. "Thank you, Mr. Shaw."

He replied instantly again, but only with a question: "Just thank you?"

I froze.

A billionaire venture capitalist. After doing me a small favor, would he really joke around with a married woman like me in the middle of the night?

I hesitated, then replied, "Can I take you to dinner?"

After a long pause, he finally answered with one cold word: "Fine."

I didn't know how to continue the conversation. Just as I was about to put down my phone, the screen suddenly lit up.

It was an unfamiliar text message with no saved contact.

No words. Just a video file.

The moment I opened the video, my breathing hitched and my face turned pale.

It was pinhole camera surveillance footage from a hotel room.

The quality was crystal clear.

In the video, Ethan was pressing Susan down hard on the sofa. That face that had always been refined and courteous toward me was now filled with lust and indulgence.

Susan wrapped her arms around his neck, responding coquettishly. "Ethan, if Miranda finds out, will she be angry?"

"Don't mention her and ruin the mood."

Ethan let out a cold laugh, his tone utterly callous. "Facing her every day, I only feel suffocated. If it weren't for the company shares, I would've divorced her long ago. Being with you is so much more relaxing..."

My head went blank. I could barely stay standing.

He'd acted so convincingly, all just to brazenly keep Susan by his side, to have an excuse to divorce me, even to take over the company we'd built together!

I'd fed the best five years of my youth to a dog.

I stared at the footage on my screen, waves of nausea surging up my throat.

I didn't cry.

In the silent night, I only felt my hands and feet turn terrifyingly cold.

I pressed the save button and forced down the discomfort in my heart to sleep.

No matter what, life had to go on.

...

The next morning, I put on a little makeup to hide my puffy eyes and dark circles.

I cooked his favorite dish and packed it in a thermos.

Today was the day Ethan was scheduled to return to the hospital for a follow-up brain CT.

I was going to the hospital.

I wanted to watch him in person as he continued this nauseating performance.

At the hospital, I headed straight for Lucas's vice president's office.

Pushing open the ajar door, I was about to enter when I heard Ethan's voice.

"All right, she's gone. You really put on a convincing performance with that amnesia act. Even Mr. Shaw was fooled?" Lucas's teasing voice came through.

I stopped in my tracks. Through the door crack, I saw Ethan sitting on the sofa, smoking.

He blew out a smoke ring, his lips curving into an arrogant arc. "If I didn't do this, how could I openly protect Susan and systematically strip Miranda of her power in the company?"

"Aren't you afraid Miranda will actually divorce you? You've been married five years." Lucas chuckled.

"Divorce? Would she dare?" Ethan scoffed dismissively. "Miranda is a blockhead who revolves her whole life around me. Being with her is like completing a task. I've been sick of it for ages. How could she compare to Susan, young, vibrant, understanding what I need?"

"Taking advantage of this amnesia, I'm getting some novelty. Once I've had my fun, I'll tell her I've recovered my memory. Won't she still come crawling back gratefully?"

I stood outside the door, the thermos in my hand burning like a hot iron.

I didn't burst in to tear off the mask.

I took out my phone and recorded their entire conversation, word for word.

Find me boring? Want some novelty?

Fine, Ethan.

Since you love playing the amnesia game, I'll play along with you. But bigger.