The Man Who Didn't Remember Our Love

They called my family's gift the "Midas touch," uncanny luck ensuring prosperity for those in our orbit. Julian Thorne, from a lineage cursed with men dying before thirty, desperately needed it for his survival. His mother, Victoria, proposed a lucrative partnership to save her son. In my first life, I accepted, pouring my essence into his success, helping him defy fate, celebrating his 30th birthday. But he paraded his new love, Isabelle, and publicly denounced me as a fraud, shattering my reputation. My assets frozen, my name disgraced, everything I had vanished by morning. He then abandoned me at a desolate, chemical waste site, where I died alone and terrified, my hometown withering under his cruel hand. The metallic tang of chemicals, the stench of decay – that memory seared into my soul, a cold reality of his ultimate betrayal. How could the man I saved condemn me to such a horrifying end? Then, I blinked. I was back. Reborn, on the very day Victoria Thorne first offered that cursed contract. My hands steady, I pushed it back. "No," I said, my voice quiet but cutting, shattering the chains of my past and forging a new destiny.

My life as a pastry chef with dreams as sweet as my confections was shattered in an instant. The doctor' s words echoed: "Acute myeloid leukemia." But that diagnosis was only the first blow. Numbly, I returned home, only to discover a hidden folder on my longtime boyfriend Liam' s tablet: "Walker_Harrington_Private." Inside were marriage certificates and photos of Liam, beaming, with his wife, Bella-dated three years ago. My heart didn't just break; it stopped. The man I loved, the one I' d been sketching wedding cakes for, had a secret wife. Then, the true horror unfolded: I overheard Liam casually discussing "the Ava project" with a colleague. His plan? Use me as an incubator for a child for him and Bella, who was barren. He' d meticulously crafted my world, ensuring I had no one but him, even starting malicious rumors during our college days to isolate me. Eight years. My entire future, my security, was a meticulously woven lie. The sickness eating my body felt less painful than the absolute, soul-crushing betrayal. How could I have been so utterly blind? So stupidly devoted to a monster? But in that abyss, a flicker of cold defiance sparked. A brochure for experimental CAR T-cell therapy in Boston. I would fight for my life, but on my own terms. My only path forward: survive the leukemia, and completely disappear from Liam' s monstrous game.

At seven, my mother married a rich man, throwing me into their opulent world. I was supposed to call him "Dad," and get a new life. Instead, I met Ethan, my new stepbrother, a teenager with eyes like ice chips. That very day, he shoved me into an infinity pool, sneering, "Know your place." My own mother, too busy solidifying her new status, hissed, "Don't embarrass me," and locked me in a utility closet. For the next decade, the Sterling mansion became my gilded cage. Ethan systematically made my life hell: torn homework, pushes downstairs, humiliating chores like cleaning his muddy shoes. I became a ghost in the vast house. When my mother was brutally discarded, I lost everything, plummeting into poverty. But Ethan' s torment didn't stop; it followed me, escalating from cyberbullying to physical threats that nearly cost me my life. Just when I thought a scholarship offered escape, he appeared, deliberately sabotaging my university dreams. Desperate, I was forced into his dark, dangerous world. I woke up stark naked in his penthouse, branded his "plaything," his "kept woman." He placed me in the very same condo where his mother had died by suicide. What twisted game was he playing? Did he want me to follow her tragic path? Trapped and pregnant with his child, I made a desperate bid for freedom, attempting to jump from a window, only to miscarry. But from that rock-bottom despair, a flicker ignited. I would not be his victim. I would reclaim my life. This is the story of how I clawed my way out of his personal hell, leaving the tormentor-and his twisted obsession-behind for good.

The music throbbed at my sister Claire' s engagement party. Ethan Prescott, the man I was supposed to marry, stood beside her, glowing. I watched from the sidelines, a polite smile glued to my face, my family' s legendary Aegis Locket cool against my skin. Then Claire screamed. Stumbling into the ballroom, her dress torn, a bruise blooming on her cheek, she pointed directly at me, her voice cracking. "She did this! Rory attacked me! She said I stole Ethan, that I' d pay!" My fiancé, my brother Sam, and even my own mother, instantly believed her lies. They called me a monster. Without a second thought, Ethan ripped the Aegis Locket from my neck, banishing me to "The Hollows," a desolate commune in Maine, for "rehabilitation." Five years I endured there: systematic torture, starvation, brutal beatings, and the ultimate degradation – a searing brand announcing "Property of The Hollows." My once-sharp mind shattered, my identity erased. I became a feral, cowering creature, unable to comprehend the monstrous injustice. How could my family, my beloved Ethan, mistake my horrific abuse for madness, my broken pleas for manipulative acts? Why did they choose to believe the twisted narrative of my venomous sister? When Ethan and Sam finally came to retrieve me, repulsed by the shattered woman before them, my raw, branded body was exposed during a cruel "penance" ritual. With nothing left but shame and despair, I lunged towards the cliff's edge, escaping their judgment, escaping everything, by throwing myself into the raging abyss below.

I woke up in a hospital, my past a blank beyond my 18th year. The doctor said I was 27, even a talented architect, and married. But the woman they introduced as my wife, Sophia, was a cold, stunning stranger. She looked at me with thinly veiled contempt. She spoke of my nine lost years as a descent into breakdowns and "pathetic" dependence. My supposed best friend, Ethan Vance, was her true confidante, a smirking rival. Disgust curdled in my gut. This wasn't me. My 18-year-old self, full of ambition and drive, recoiled from this emasculated shadow of a man they described. How could I have become a "kept man," constantly ridiculed, chasing the approval of an ice queen? The humiliation was palpable, preserved in flashed cameras and casual insults. But this amnesia, this blank slate, felt like a gift. It stripped away the years of self-erasure, leaving behind only the core of who I was. And that core wanted nothing to do with this suffocating, demeaning life. "I want a divorce," I told her, my voice surprisingly firm. "The me I know wouldn't be married to someone who calls him pathetic." This was no act, no episode. This was me, fighting to reclaim a life I didn't remember. A life free from the woman who claimed to be my wife and the rival who wanted me utterly destroyed. Little did I know, the fight for my true identity would lead to a bloody confrontation and a shocking revelation that would change everything.

The heavy scent of grilled meat and expensive cologne filled the private room at Harris' Steakhouse. My tech CEO husband, Mark, called it a "boys' night out," but I was there, a silent fixture at the dark wood table, habitually ignored. His tech bro friends, Kevin and Josh, flanked him, their laughter growing too loud. Then, in a momentary lull, I calmly stated, "I' m thinking about it too," referring to getting a divorce. The entire table erupted, not in surprise, but in loud, condescending laughter, Mark' s the loudest of all. He wiped a tear from his eye and sneered, "You? Divorce me? What do you have without me, Sarah? You dropped out of Vassar, remember? For me. You think you can survive for a week without my money?" His friend Kevin, already flushed from too much wine, then slurred a public dare, "If you actually divorce Mark, I swear, I' ll live-stream chugging a blended concoction of the grossest things!" They truly believed I was a fragile, dependent ornament, easily controlled. They saw only a trophy wife, utterly incapable of independent thought or action. They didn't see the cold, hard knot of pure resolve tightening inside my gut. They certainly didn't know about the countless hours I'd spent in our Atherton mansion's library, diligently studying California community property law. A tiny, almost imperceptible smile touched my lips as I met their gazes. "No, Mark," I said, standing slowly, my voice cool and even, "I don' t think I will apologize; in fact, I've already had divorce papers drawn up." My lawyer would be in touch with his. Weeks later, when his young intern, Tiffany, smugly tried to announce her fake pregnancy at a family dinner, I exposed Mark's zero sperm count to his horrified mother and everyone present. They had utterly underestimated me, and my meticulously researched plan to reclaim my life had just begun.

On the eve of their wedding, Clara Raymond discovers her fiancé in a compromising situation. Deeply hurt by his treachery, she has a breakdown outside the civil affairs office where she intended to formally register their marriage, following a family tradition. However, his abrupt withdrawal on that very day after betraying her the night before proves to be the breaking point. She is no longer willing to forgive and move on. Instead, she craves vengeance. To retaliate, Clara seizes the first attractive man nearby and boldly proposes, "Will you marry me?"

There was only one man in Raegan's heart, and it was Mitchel. In the second year of her marriage to him, she got pregnant. Raegan's joy knew no bounds. But before she could break the news to her husband, he served her divorce papers because he wanted to marry his first love. After an accident, Raegan lay in the pool of her own blood and called out to Mitchel for help. Unfortunately, he left with his first love in his arms. Raegan escaped death by the whiskers. Afterward, she decided to get her life back on track. Her name was everywhere years later. Mitchel became very uncomfortable. For some reason, he began to miss her. His heart ached when he saw her all smiles with another man. He crashed her wedding and fell to his knees while she was at the altar. With bloodshot eyes, he queried, "I thought you said your love for me is unbreakable? How come you are getting married to someone else? Come back to me!"

Rumors claimed that Fernanda, newly back with her family, was nothing more than a violent country bumpkin. Fernanda just flashed a casual, dismissive grin in response. Another rumor suggested that the usually rational Cristian had lost all sense, madly in love with Fernanda. This frustrated her. She could tolerate gossip about herself, but slander against her beloved crossed the line! Gradually, as Fernanda's multiple identities as a celebrated designer, a savvy gamer, an acclaimed painter, and a successful business magnate came to light, everyone realized they were the ones who had been fooled.

Two years ago, Ricky found himself coerced into marrying Emma to protect the woman he cherished. From Ricky's perspective, Emma was despicable, resorting to underhanded schemes to ensure their marriage. He maintained a distant and cold attitude toward her, reserving his warmth for another. Yet, Emma remained wholeheartedly dedicated to Ricky for more than ten years. As she grew weary and considered relinquishing her efforts, Ricky was seized by a sudden fear. Only when Emma's life teetered on the edge, pregnant with Ricky's child, did he recognize-the love of his life had always been Emma.

"Mr. Evans, please maintain some dignity. Don't forget I'm your brother's wife!" Having caught her husband and best friend together in the bed, Elena wanted nothing more than to exact revenge on the people she once called family. She refused to be a pitiful divorcee and vowed to make everyone who had once looked down on her beg for forgiveness. And to start with her newfound freedom, Elena indulges in a one-night stand with a stranger. However, what was meant to be a fleeting escape turns into a nightmare when she learns that the stranger is none other than her husband's older brother! Would Elena be free from the shackles of her marriage? Or would the mysterious stranger make her life a living hell since he seemed to have a personal vendetta against his family? [The story is 18+ and involves mature content.]

Blinded in a crash, Cary was rejected by every socialite—except Evelina, who married him without hesitation. Three years later, he regained his sight and ended their marriage. "We’ve already lost so many years. I won’t let her waste another one on me." Evelina signed the divorce papers without a word. Everyone mocked her fall—until they discovered that the miracle doctor, jewelry mogul, stock genius, top hacker, and the President's true daughter… were all her. When Cary came crawling back, a ruthless tycoon had him kicked out. "She's my wife now. Get lost."