The Billionaire Who Forgot His Marriage

Adrian’s POV

“Who the hell are you?”

The words slip out before I can stop them. My throat burns, voice hoarse, the sterile scent of antiseptic thick in the air. I blink through the haze of white light, trying to piece together where I am.

A hospital room. Machines hum softly beside me, a dull beep marking my pulse. My body aches like I’ve been hit by something hard—because apparently, I have. My car. The crash. That much I remember.

But the man standing at the foot of my bed, I don’t.

He stares at me like I’ve just broken him. His eyes are wide, chest trembling as if he’s holding back a sob. There’s something fragile about him—too human for the cold, glass world I know.

“It’s me,” he says quietly. “Noah.”

The name hits like static. Familiar, almost, but it slips through my mind like water through fingers. I frown. “Noah…?”

His lips twitch into a nervous, broken smile. “Your husband.”

The room stills.

For a moment, I think I misheard. Husband? That’s impossible. I’ve never—

“Is this some kind of joke?” My voice sharpens, cutting through the soft hum of machines.

He steps closer. “It’s not a joke. We’ve been married for two years. You said we’d keep it quiet until things with your family settled. You said—”

“I said what?” I snap.

Silence stretches, heavy and unbearable. His shoulders shake slightly as he exhales, eyes searching mine for recognition. “You said you loved me.”

The word love claws at something deep inside me, though I don’t know why. I can’t remember the last time it meant anything.

The door opens. My mother, Victoria Wolfe, strides in—tall, elegant, and cold in her black coat. Behind her, my brother Damian wears a wolfish smirk, and Evelyn, my assistant, clutches her tablet like a shield.

The air thickens.

“Adrian, darling,” my mother says, voice sweet but edged with command. “You’re awake. Thank God.”

“Mother.” I shift, pain spiking through my ribs. “What happened?”

“Your car hydroplaned. You’re lucky to be alive.”

Her gaze lands on Noah, and the warmth in her tone vanishes. “Who let him in?”

Noah’s jaw tightens. “I’m his husband.”

Victoria’s eyes narrow. “His what?”

Damian chuckles. “This is new. You got married and forgot to tell us?”

I glance between them, confusion twisting tighter. “I don’t remember,” I admit quietly.

Victoria moves closer, brushing my hair back like I’m still a boy. “That’s because you’ve had a trauma. The doctors said there may be lapses. Selective memory loss. But don’t worry—we’ll handle everything.”

Her eyes flick to Noah, sharp and unreadable. “Including whoever this man is.”

Noah flinches but stands his ground. “I’m not some stranger. I know things about him none of you do. The scar on his shoulder from the boat accident. The way he can’t sleep without music. The—”

“That’s enough,” Victoria cuts in. “Anyone could know that.”

“I didn’t know it,” Noah says through clenched teeth. “I lived it.”

Evelyn clears her throat, stepping forward. “Mr. Wolfe, for what it’s worth, we checked your records. There’s no marriage license filed under your name.”

Noah pulls a folded document from his pocket, hands trembling. “Because he wanted it private. But we registered it abroad. In Italy. Look—this is—”

“Forgery,” Damian says smoothly, snatching the paper. He glances at it, smirks, and hands it to Evelyn. “Cheap, too.”

“That’s not—”

“Noah,” I interrupt, quieter now. There’s something in his eyes that makes my chest ache—betrayal and hope tangled together. “If you’re telling the truth… why can’t I remember you?”

He swallows hard. “Because you’ve forgotten me. But that doesn’t mean what we had wasn’t real.”

I look away. His voice stirs something in me I can’t reach, a ghost of emotion that slips through my grasp.

The doctors come in, breaking the tension. They run their tests, ask questions, and I answer on autopilot. Yes, I know who I am. Yes, I know the date. No, I don’t remember the past two years.

When they leave, Noah is still there—pale, exhausted, like he hasn’t slept in days.

Victoria turns to him. “You’ve done enough. Leave my son alone.”

“No,” he says, his tone suddenly firm. “I’m not leaving him. You can say whatever you want, but I’m not going anywhere.”

Damian snorts. “You’ve got guts. I’ll give you that.”

Noah ignores him, his gaze locked on me. “Please, Adrian. Let me stay. I can help you remember. Just let me try.”

I should tell him no. That’s what I’ve always done—cut people out, protect myself. But something in me hesitates.

His voice breaks. “You said love was your biggest risk. But you took it anyway—with me.”

My breath catches. For the briefest second, an image flickers—hands tangled in white sheets, soft laughter, the taste of coffee on someone’s lips. Then it’s gone.

I press a hand to my temple. “I need time,” I manage.

Noah nods, eyes glassy. “Take all the time you need.”

But as Victoria escorts him out, I hear her hiss under her breath, “Don’t you dare come near him again.”

The door closes. Silence returns.

I lean back, staring at the ceiling. The world feels tilted—like I woke up in a life that isn’t mine.

Two years gone.

A stranger who calls himself my husband.

A family too quick to bury the truth.

And beneath it all, the faint echo of a voice I can’t forget.

You said you loved me.

The words loop in my head.

By the time night falls, I can’t sleep. City lights spill through the blinds, and somewhere in the dark, I swear I hear his voice again—soft, broken.

“Adrian, don’t let them erase us.”

I turn sharply, heart pounding.

The room is empty.

Still, something inside me whispers,

What if he’s telling the truth?

My hand clenches around the bedsheet, and before I can stop myself, I whisper into the dark,

“Then why can’t I remember you?”