Chapter 1

My husband was diagnosed with post-traumatic amnesia.

He forgot me, and he forgot our daughter who passed away.

He blew through my money as he pleased, pampering other women.

Behind my back, he did everything possible to hurt me.

I kept cleaning up his messes, over and over again.

Until I just couldn't pick up the pieces anymore.

Because I was dying.

*****

My husband, James Carter, got himself in trouble again.

As I walked out of the hospital with my diagnosis in hand, my phone buzzed with a furious call from my mother-in-law.

"I've sent you the private room number. Go deal with him yourself," she snapped.

I was used to this.

I crumpled up the medical report and tossed it into the trash.

I drove over, and when I got to the private dining room at the restaurant, everything inside was untouched.

The place was strewn with rose petals, and the candlelit dinner was romantic and elegant.

James's white shirt was a mess, the wrinkles obvious and glaring.

I just glanced at him, then turned to my mother-in-law.

"Mom, it's just a misunderstanding," I said.

The woman in the flimsy dress stood there, her face frozen in terror, shaking like a leaf.

James, the main character of this drama, sat with his long legs crossed, cool as ever.

My mother-in-law shot me a look, her face full of question marks. "A misunderstanding?

"Emily, he's getting more and more out of control. How can you just let him get away with this?"

I pulled out my phone and showed her the proof. "Mary, she's just someone I work with.

"We came here for a business trip and decided to have dinner together tonight.

"I was the one who messaged her to come in.

"James set up this surprise for me, but I had to step out last minute. That's why it all looks like a misunderstanding."

I pulled out the business trip documents and showed them to my mother-in-law, Mary.

The woman, hands shaking, handed over her phone.

Mary checked her phone and saw the message I'd sent.

It showed as read, exactly like I told her.

Her expression flickered with shock.

She finally realized that the unexpected message she received was actually from me.

She couldn't even remember when she had added me as a contact.

Mary still had a trace of doubt on her face.

I went a step further and told her the colleague's name and position at the company.

She was still half-convinced, but before heading out, she spoke to me earnestly. "Emily, even if she's just a colleague, you can never be too careful."

I wasn't exactly lying.

I really did know Chloe Reed.

She and James had been seeing each other for two years now.

I knew about every single woman who ever got close to him.

Otherwise, there was no way I could've bailed him out every time he screwed up.

After my mother-in-law left, I handed Chloe a check for 3,000 dollars.

"Take it. Sorry for putting you through this today," I said.

James just sat there, calm as ever, watching me with a blank face.

Chloe's eyes were rimmed red, refusing to take the check. She shook her head, voice trembling. "I'm not with James because of the money."

I started to slip the check back into my purse, but Chloe darted forward and snatched it away, her movements desperate and shaky.

"You two talk. I'm taking this for now, but I'm not keeping it. I'll give it back to you next time," she said, her voice shaky.

I took James out of the restaurant and drove us back to Harbor City.

The place we'd gone for the business trip was a four-hour drive away.

James couldn't fly, and he couldn't take the train either.

I didn't feel safe leaving him alone in Harbor City.

I was worried he'd have an episode with nobody around, so I had to drive him myself.

On the way back, I drove while he sat in the passenger seat.

He looked at me like I was annoying him and asked, "Don't you ever get tired?"

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel and forced a smile. "Not really, this trip was easy, hardly any work at all.

"Oh, by the way, guess what happened at work today."

He let out a mocking laugh. "Who cares about your stupid work life?"

My breath caught, and I just stayed quiet.

He meant how I always covered up for him and his side chick, but I acted like I had no clue.

Outside the car window, shifting beams of light danced in and out, painting the seats with flickering shadows.

James slumped against the seat, eyes closed. He looked like he was asleep, but I couldn't tell for sure.

Driving for four hours was a real struggle for me now.

My stomach started aching again, sharp pains stabbing through me like knives.

My back involuntarily curled forward, pushing me against the steering wheel.

Worried I might collapse, I had no choice but to pull over at the next rest stop.

James was knocked out, probably worn out from whatever he'd been up to at the hotel.

I popped some painkillers.

By the streetlight outside, I glanced sideways at him.

Asleep, James's features were sharp and perfect—almost unreal.

The usual hostility and contempt he had for me had faded away from his face.

For a fleeting moment, I caught a glimpse of the James I once knew, the man from over two years ago.

Back then, he was the best dad anyone could ask for.

And he was the best husband, too.

*****

I first met James when I was fourteen.

I was an orphan, and his parents paid for me to go to middle school. I ended up at their house a few times.

Back then, James was only fifteen.

He thought I was easy to bully and had me running errands for him without paying me a dime.

He and his buddies secretly opened up a workshop off campus.

It was crammed with scrap metal and all kinds of weird little gadgets.

They messed around with all that junk, turning it into toys and robots.

Some of them could hang out with you, or even chat like a real person.

There were robots that could sweep the floor, wipe down tables, or even join you for a game of mahjong or ping-pong.

That little workshop was always full of life.

James made me their all-purpose helper.

I did their laundry, cooked their meals, and picked up after them.

On weekends, they'd hawk their toys at a street stall. Whenever the city patrol showed up, my job was to turn on the waterworks and look as pathetic as possible, so they'd let us off the hook.

The ones I made were ridiculously ugly, but he made sure every one of his friends got one.

Everyone cracked up, roasting me one after another.

When I turned twenty, I married James.

Together, we launched our own company, diving headfirst into high-tech product development.

We were working around the clock, barely catching our breath.

R&D, networking, hustling for partnerships. We did it all.

When I got pregnant, he insisted I stay home and rest.

He got even busier, working himself to the bone.

But no matter how late he came home, he always remembered to bring me a hot midnight snack.

I couldn't stop craving food when I was pregnant.

When I was twenty-one, I gave birth to our daughter, Grace.

Grace was growing up fast, and so was our company.

James had a real knack for inventing things and running a business.

In just five years, our company shot up from a few hundred thousand dollars in assets to almost a hundred million.

Back then, he was unstoppable—on top of the world.

Even when he came home late at night, he'd hoist Grace up onto his shoulders and run around the living room in circles with her.

Grace would laugh so hard, fussing about how his scratchy beard tickled her cheeks.

That was when he'd suddenly remember he hadn't shaved in two days because he'd been so swamped.

I sat on the couch, watching them messing around. Then James walked over with Grace in his arms.

"Look, Mom's getting jealous for no reason," he teased.

"I am not jealous!" I protested.

He pulled me up and scooped me up in his arms.

I squealed, scared he might drop me.

He flashed that cocky grin, just like he used to when he was a teenager.

James said, "Once I get through this crazy busy stretch, I'll take a whole month off. The three of us, as a family, will travel the world together."

But we never got to take that trip he promised.

On Grace's fourth birthday, James flew with her overseas so she could receive her piano award certificate.

James took Grace on a plane abroad to collect her prize for the piano competition.

Grace was just as smart as him.

She started playing the piano when she was three.

By the time she was four, she'd already gone overseas to compete in a kids' piano competition and brought home a silver medal.

I saw them off at the airport, and a few hours later, I got a call.

The plane crashed, and Grace died.

*****

I couldn't really remember how James managed to come back after everything.

All I could vaguely recall is him lying in that hospital bed, asking me again and again. "Emily, why am I still alive?

"How can I still be alive?"

He ended up with PTSD.

He was mentally exhausted, barely eating or sleeping.