THE BILLIONAIRE'S FORGOTTEN BRIDE

The 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.

.