Chapter 1

All because I refused to let a complete stranger be my maid of honor, my husband pushed me off a bungee platform.

As consciousness slipped away, I heard one of his friends rush over. "If you're really that obsessed with Sienna, then divorce Angelina and marry her. Why do you keep torturing Angelina?"

"I'm not divorcing Angelina," Andre Dillard replied firmly.

"Angelina developed cyclical amnesia because she saved my life. She'll be Mrs. Dillard. And I'll always love her."

He paused.

When he spoke again, his voice was gentle yet unwavering. "But Sienna has nothing. All she wants is proof that she matters to me. I have to give her that."

"Your wife is pregnant!" his friend snapped in disbelief.

Andre merely smiled. "Do you know what the best thing about her condition is? No matter what happens, we always get to start over."

What he didn't know was that, at the very moment I lost our baby from the shock, the blood clot in my brain miraculously dissolved.

The memories I'd been losing for years came flooding back.

For the first time, I remembered it all. This time, I wouldn't forget again next week.

And this time, there would be no starting over.

*****

When I came to, I was already lying in a hospital bed.

Andre was sitting by my bedside, his eyes red, clearly heartbroken as he watched over me.

His friend, a doctor, spoke in a serious tone. "Andre, you really crossed the line this time. Such a traumatic miscarriage might mean Angelina will never be able to have kids again."

"Give her the best meds, but don't let her catch on," Andre said.

He gently tucked the blanket around me, his face tender, but his words were downright heartless.

"If she can't get pregnant, that's good. I promised Sienna I'd never let Angelina have a kid before her. Now, that saves me the trouble."

Just one word was enough to sum up what our child meant to him: trouble.

It was just like my amnesia, which erased everything in my head every Monday.

He used to be so patient, always starting over with me, building new memories together. Then he began testing boundaries, and now he was hurting me without a second thought.

In seven years, I'd gone from being his responsibility to another problem for him.

But here was the thing.

When I saved him, I didn't even know who he was. I just acted on instinct, doing what anyone decent would do.

Even if I ended up losing my memory because of it, that was never his fault.

He could've found my parents, handed them some money as compensation, and let them take me home so I could get better.

Or he could've simply treated me like the person who saved his life, put me in a top-notch clinic, and hired the best doctors to fix my amnesia as soon as possible.

But instead, he acted like he was madly in love with me for seven years.

He even painted me as this clingy, love-obsessed girl, an orphan with zero life skills, totally dependent on him, like a vine that couldn't survive without its host.

This wasn't about gratitude.

This was revenge.

I clenched my fists without even realizing it.

His friend sighed. "If Angelina ever finds out, she'll be heartbroken."

Even his friend knew I'd be devastated.

But Andre gave a faint smile. "It's Monday. She'll forget everything again, and none of the pain will stick. I'll throw her the biggest wedding this weekend. A little suffering won't hurt her."

A little suffering won't hurt her.

Those words, so light and careless, sent a flood of memories crashing into my mind.

One moment, I was waking up after my first bout of amnesia.

He was on his knees by my hospital bed, his whole body trembling as he cried, swearing he'd always be there for me. "From now on, I'll be your memory, your hands, your anchor.

"Don't be afraid. I'll remember everything for you, and I'll never let you be wronged. No matter how many times you forget, I'll always show you how much we love each other."

Then, in the years that followed, every time I woke up after losing my memory, he'd lead me into that meticulously curated memory room he'd created for me.

It was overflowing with photos, videos, and keepsakes, all "proof" of how deeply we "loved" each other.

His eyes sparkling, he'd enthusiastically recount the story behind every single item, never tiring of it.

And every time we left that room, he'd say the same thing. "Honey, I love you so much. Promise me you'll never leave me, okay?"

Then, there was the first time I walked in on him and Sienna hooking up at our place.

I totally lost it and hurled a vase at them.

But Andre wrapped Sienna in his arms, shielding her, and gave me a look, like he had something to say but swallowed it.

He looked guilty, but there was relief in his eyes.

After that, he kept telling me how much he loved me every time I lost my memory, but he and Sienna started flaunting their relationship, acting inseparable and sweet right in front of me, not even bothering to hide it anymore.

And the last memory I had was from yesterday, frozen on that bungee jump platform.

I was trembling, pleading with him to spare me.

But he had his buddy record my humiliation, all while soothing me with fake tenderness. "Sienna just wants to be your bridesmaid and witness my happiness. Why are you being so stubborn?

"Now she's upset, so she wants you to suffer too. How am I supposed to take your side? Come on, don't be scared. Bungee jumping is over in a flash; you won't even feel it."

I clutched my stomach. "But I'm pregnant—"

I didn't even get to finish, and Andre shoved me off without a second thought.

The mountain wind howled past.

The moment my body went weightless, I used to think Andre acted this way because he didn't know I was pregnant.

But now I understood.

It never mattered to him, whether he knew or not.

The baby didn't matter.

My feelings didn't matter.

The only thing that mattered was how Sienna felt.