Chapter 1

After my husband lost his memories in a car accident, he brought home a pregnant woman.

He shoved a divorce agreement in my face with sneering contempt, demanding I leave with absolutely nothing.

"A gold digger like you has no right to be the wife of the heir to the Smith Corporation."

He humiliated me in every way he could, terrified I would break down in tears and beg him to stay, just like I had before.

What he never expected was that I would agree without hesitation.

And that I would immediately book an international flight out of the country.

What he didn't know was that I had regained my memories long ago.

And found where I truly belonged.

It was the seventh time my husband handed me the divorce papers.

He looked at me cold-eyed and said, "Summer is pregnant with my baby. I have to divorce you."

My hand, which was just about to tear the papers to shreds like every time before, froze.

My mother-in-law rushed in after hearing the news, frantic to stop him.

"Ethan, you are going to regret this! Chloe is your real wife, the one you truly love!"

She slapped Ethan across the face, then turned to me, begging for forgiveness.

"Chloe, please, give Ethan one more chance. His memory will come back, I swear it will."

Yes, my husband had amnesia.

Three years ago, on our first wedding anniversary, he drove to the supermarket to pick up groceries. He said he wanted to cook me an elaborate dinner himself, just like he used to do when we were dating.

Hours passed, and he never came home. The day after I filed a missing person report, the hospital called to tell me my husband had been in a horrific car crash.

When I rushed to the trauma ward, I found him staring tenderly at the young woman who had pulled him from the wreckage.

Then, the doctor delivered the news: my husband had retrograde amnesia.

His memories had stopped exactly three years prior—the day before we first met.

He had no memory of chasing after me for two years, no memory of our vows. Worse yet, he fell madly, obsessively in love with the girl who had brought him to the hospital.

The very next day after being discharged, he demanded a divorce. I looked into his eyes and saw absolute sincerity—the exact same sincerity he had when he proposed under the stars, swearing he would love me for the rest of his days. It felt like a serrated knife carving through my chest.

I refused back then. I couldn't bear to let go of the love we had built.

So, he packed his bags and moved out.

Over the past three years, I heard endless stories about the extravagant, reckless things Ethan did for that girl. After all, the Smith Corporation was a household name, and Ethan was young, handsome, and powerful.

What hurt the most was that many of those grand gestures were things he had never once done for me.