He Faked Amnesia to Swap Me for His Step-Sister at the Altar

Ethan Vance was the most uninhibited painter in the city's elite circle—yet he willingly walked into the fortress of marriage with Clarissa Henson, the old-fashioned researcher from the pharmaceutical institute.

Everyone knew he loved her like crazy.

For her custom haute couture wedding dress, he flew to Milan thirty times just to finalize the hem's details. He personally drew ninety-nine design drafts just to create her perfect diamond ring. He knew she couldn't eat spicy food, so he apprenticed himself to a Teochew master chef. His painter's hands blistered from the burns, but he didn't care—all for that fleeting smile when she tasted his cooking.

Her colleagues envied her to the extreme. Even she believed, with her whole heart, that this wedding was the happy beginning she'd always dreamed of.

But on the eve of their wedding, while searching for the perfect heart-shaped pink diamond, Ethan was caught in a mine collapse.

When Clarissa got the news, she was trying on her wedding makeup. She ran to the hospital like a madwoman—only to find Ethan with gauze wrapped around his head, gripping Nina Winfield's hand tightly.

The always-arrogant Ethan looked pitiful and helpless.

"Wife, why don't you want me anymore?"

Clarissa thought she'd heard wrong. He loved her so much—how could he mistake someone else for her?

She stepped forward. But Ethan shrank back behind Nina, terrified.

Nina forced an awkward smile. "Clarissa, don't misunderstand. He just recovered from serious injuries. The doctor said he might have hurt his head—"

"I didn't!" Ethan clutched Nina tightly, like a treasure regained after being lost. "You are my wife!"

Clarissa's heart felt stabbed by ten thousand needles.

Yet she had to face reality: Ethan had taken Nina as his fiancée.

He had forgotten her.

——

After Ethan was discharged, he refused to let Nina leave his side.

Clarissa comforted herself—amnesia was temporary. Sooner or later, he'd remember her.

But when she ended her experiment early to accompany him to rehab, she overheard his conversation with a childhood friend outside the hospital room.

"Ethan, are you sure you want to play it this big?"

The corridor was dead silent. So silent she could hear her own heartbeat pounding.

His voice carried a hint of amusement. "Honestly? Being with her for so many years—it's like my left hand holding my right hand."

"You know how old-fashioned she is? She won't even do it in the car."

His lips curved into a savoring smile. "Not like Nina. She's willing to cooperate with any position."

His friend sputtered. "But Nina? Isn't she your stepsister?"

Ethan cut in impatiently. "What nonsense. Nina and I don't share blood."

"After I've had enough fun, I'll just tell her I've recovered my memory. Simple."

Dead silence.

His friends exchanged glances, unsure how to respond.

Finally, someone broke the tension. "Your wedding's coming up. What's the plan?"

Clarissa held her breath, half-expecting, half-dreading his answer.

Ethan shrugged. "What else? Wedding goes on as usual—just swap the bride for Nina."

"It's just a ceremony without the marriage license. Treat it as making a little girl happy."

Thunder exploded in Clarissa's head.

Her limbs went numb, frozen like they'd been plunged into ice water. She turned in a daze—and walked straight into Nina, who was smiling brightly.

"Clarissa, you're here! Why aren't you going in?"