MasukShe was his wife, bound by a contract. He was her husband, but he couldn’t remember her face. When Amelia Hart-Blackwood walked down the aisle, she thought she was securing her family’s future. Instead, she found herself trapped in a loveless marriage with Damien Blackwood — the cold, ruthless billionaire who only saw her as a pawn. But just when Amelia thought things couldn’t get worse, an accident stole Damien’s memories. Suddenly, the man who once ignored her looked at her like a stranger… and treated another woman as if she were his bride. To the world, Amelia is invisible. To Damien, she’s nothing but an imposter. Yet as secrets unravel and enemies close in, Amelia must decide: fight for the love she never had… or walk away before her heart shatters completely. In a world of wealth, betrayal, and forgotten vows — can love truly be rewritten?
Lihat lebih banyakThe wedding hall smelled of roses and betrayal.
Golden light spilled from the chandeliers, catching the curious eyes of the city’s elite. Amelia’s fingers trembled against her bouquet, though she kept her chin high. She could hear the whispers anyway. “She doesn’t belong here.” “Why her?” “A pawn, nothing more.” They were right. This wasn’t about love—it was survival. Her father’s debts had crushed them. Her family’s honor hung by a thread. And the man who saved them now stood at the altar, tall and unyielding. Damien Blackwood. The city’s most ruthless billionaire. Impeccably suited, dark eyes unreadable, lips pressed in a line that spoke of indifference rather than joy. When the priest told him to kiss the bride, Damien leaned in, his lips brushing hers for the briefest moment. To the crowd, it was romance. To Amelia, it was a contract sealed. “Remember your place,” he whispered. Her heart sank. Even on her wedding day, she was nothing but his pawn. That was two years ago. Now, Amelia sat in a hospital room where the scent of antiseptic drowned the memory of roses. The machines beeped steadily as she stared at Damien—her husband—pale against the white sheets, his body marked by wires and tubes. She thought she had grown immune to him after two years of silence, distance, and cold indifference. Yet, watching him there—so still, so human—something inside her softened. And yet, seeing him lying there, fragile and breakable, something stirred in her chest. Her fingers brushed his hand gently, hesitantly. “Damien…” For a moment, nothing. And then—his hand twitched. His lashes fluttered. Slowly, his eyes opened. Her breath caught, a rush of relief flooding her. “You’re awake,” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. “Thank God, you’re awake.” His gaze found hers. Sharp. Piercing. Those dark eyes that once made boardrooms tremble now locked onto her. But instead of recognition, there was confusion. “Who are you?” The question sliced through her like a blade. Her lips parted. “Damien, it’s me… Amelia. Your wife.” Silence stretched. His eyes narrowed, scanning her face as though she were an intruder. Then, slowly, his lips curved—not in warmth, but in cynicism. “I don’t have a wife.” The words hollowed her out. She shook her head, voice trembling. “No, you do. We’ve been married for two years.” He sat up slightly, every inch of him radiating disdain. “Impossible. I would never marry someone like you.” Her heart twisted. Tears threatened, but she held them back. If he had truly forgotten, then fate was cruel. And if he hadn’t—if this was a choice—then Damien Blackwood had just broken her all over again. The bouquet from her wedding day flashed in her mind—white lilies wilting in her hands, their petals falling one by one. Just like her place in his life. And in that instant,Amelia knew: the man she had married was gone. Or worse… he had chosen to erase her. .The mansion had always been quiet — too quiet. The kind of silence that used to comfort Amelia now felt suffocating. It pressed against her chest, heavy with secrets.Days had passed since her unsettling encounter with Elena. Though nothing was said outright, something had shifted in the air. Elena’s smiles had grown softer, sweeter — and more dangerous. Damien, meanwhile, seemed trapped in his own haze of confusion. His tenderness toward Amelia flickered on and off like a candle fighting against the wind.Amelia noticed everything.She saw how Damien’s eyes occasionally clouded over when she mentioned the past, how he hesitated before speaking her name. She noticed how Elena always seemed to appear at the wrong time — offering a reassuring hand, a sympathetic smile, and words that dripped like poison masked in honey.One evening, Amelia lingered in the hall outside Damien’s study, the low murmur of voices drawing her closer. She shouldn’t have been there — she knew that — but somethi
The rain had stopped by morning, but the mansion still felt drenched in something heavier than water — silence, tension, and unspoken truths.Damien sat in his office, staring at the documents on his desk, but the words blurred together. His mind wasn’t here. It hadn’t been for days.Every time he closed his eyes, fragments of the past flickered — Elena’s laughter, Amelia’s tears, two timelines tangled into one. The harder he tried to separate them, the more they bled together.He didn’t hear the door open until a soft voice broke through the fog.“You look like you haven’t slept in days.”Elena stood at the doorway, her figure framed by sunlight spilling through the window. She wore a pale blue dress that whispered as she moved — the same shade she’d worn the day he’d first met her years ago.He looked up, startled. “Elena… what are you doing here?”She smiled faintly. “I was worried. You’ve been distant lately.”“I’ve had a lot on my mind.”She crossed the room slowly, each step del
The mansion had grown quieter since that night, but silence, Amelia realized, could be the loudest kind of noise. Every echo, every flicker of shadow in the corridor seemed to whisper of something unseen — something stolen.The letter.Its absence gnawed at her like a secret she couldn’t unhear. She had checked Damien’s study twice since then, pretending it was just to tidy or find a book, but she knew what she was looking for. It was gone.And yet, she said nothing.At breakfast, she sat across from Damien, stirring her tea without tasting it. He seemed distracted too, his gaze distant, his hands unmoving around his untouched coffee.“Did you read the letter?” she asked casually, watching his face.He looked up, startled. “Letter?”Her stomach dropped. “The one the maid found. From the old study.”He frowned, thinking. “Oh. Right.” He shook his head slowly. “I haven’t seen it since that night.”Lies — or confusion. She couldn’t tell which.“Maybe someone moved it,” he said absently,
The storm outside had raged all night, lashing against the glass walls of the mansion like a wounded beast. By morning, the world was washed in gray — the kind of silence that came after chaos, heavy and uneasy.Amelia stood by the window, her reflection faint against the misted glass. Her thoughts were a storm of their own. Every glance, every word from Damien lately carried a tension she couldn’t name. It was as if he were being pulled apart, thread by thread, by ghosts she couldn’t see but could feel.When the knock came, she turned sharply.“Come in.”A maid entered, clutching a silver tray. On it lay a single envelope, yellowed at the edges, the handwriting elegant yet faded.“This was found in the old study, ma’am,” the maid said quietly. “Inside one of the drawers that were recently opened for cleaning.”Amelia frowned. “Who is it addressed to?”The maid hesitated. “Mr. Damien. But it looks… old.”Amelia reached for the letter, her pulse quickening as her fingers brushed the ro
The mansion felt different the next morning—quieter, heavier, as if the storm that had ravaged the night before had left a residue of unease clinging to its walls. The fire had burned out in the hearth, leaving only gray ash and the faint scent of smoke.Damien stood by the tall windows, his gaze distant, watching the mist curl over the garden like ghosts reluctant to leave. His world had shifted. The lies that once bound him were unraveling, thread by thread, leaving him standing in the wreckage of truth.Behind him, Amelia entered quietly, carrying two mugs of coffee. Her eyes softened as she saw the tension in his shoulders.“You’ve been standing there for hours,” she said softly. “You’ll catch a chill.”He turned to her, exhaustion shadowing his features. “I couldn’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see her face. The lies. The way she looked at me when she realized I remembered.”Amelia set the mugs down on the table beside him. “You don’t have to face her again,” she murmured
The rain refused to stop. It fell in relentless sheets, drumming against the windows like the heartbeat of a restless soul. The mansion, usually so still and commanding, seemed smaller now—caged, suffocating, as if the walls themselves knew that truth was finally clawing its way out.Damien stood before the fireplace, the wedding photo still clutched in his hand. His reflection flickered in the flames, eyes hollow, face pale. Every breath felt like glass cutting through his chest.He remembered the chapel. The faint scent of lavender. Amelia’s trembling hands as she slid the ring onto his finger. The vow he made—to protect her, to choose her, always.And then… the accident. The convenient blank space that followed.“Elena lied to me.” The words fell from his lips like poison.He turned sharply as the door creaked open. Amelia stepped in, her hair damp from the rain, her eyes soft yet guarded.“I saw the lights on,” she whispered. “You haven’t slept, have you?”He didn’t answer. Instea












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