He Faked Forgetting our Marriage until Somebody Proposed to Me

On our tenth wedding anniversary, Wilmer Marchetti pretended to have amnesia and brought a new woman home.

He looked me dead in the eye and warned, “I’m in love with Brionne now.”

“You? You’re nothing but my ex. Don’t even dream I’d give a damn about you again.”

I didn’t cry or make a scene. I just burned everything we ever had and walked the hell out.

His buddies tried to persuade him to win me back.

But Wilmer just slung an arm around the new woman’s waist, smirking confidently.

“Serena can’t let me go. Even if I don’t lift a finger, that woman’s gonna come running back to me like a loyal dog.”

“Besides, I haven’t had my fun with this amnesia game yet. Once I’m bored, I’ll go back and settle down with her.”

What that douchey didn’t know? I had already said yes to another man’s proposal.

In fact, I was about to fly off to marry him.

…

By the third year of keeping Wilmer tied to her side, Serena caught him again, this time on a yacht with yet another new woman.

Wilmer was lounging on a leather couch, one arm wrapped around Brionne Babcock’s slim waist. He casually pointed at the stack of gifts in front of them.

“Babe, you like it?”

In that pile were keys to a limited-edition sports car, property deeds worth hundreds of millions, and insanely expensive jewelry he just acquired from auction.

Brionne just pouted. “Nope. If you really wanna make me happy, divorce Serena and marry me. I’m not trying to stay some hidden side chick forever.”

Wilmer raised a brow. “Who dares call you a side chick, babe?”

He glanced lazily around the room, a dangerous smirk tugging at his lips. “Those morons?”

The crowd immediately rushed to respond.

“No way! Ma’am Brionne is the CEO’s woman! That makes her the real wife!”

“Exactly. Serena? She can never compare. She’s just clinging to Mr. Marchetti’s name.”

“Yeah, the unloved one is the third party. The only Mrs. Marchetti we know is Ma’am Brionne.”

Then, in perfect unison, they all declared, “The real wife!”

Wilmer smirked wider. He didn’t stop his men calling Brionne that way.

With that, Brionne’s annoyance melted into playful sweetness. She lightly punched his chest. “You’re such a smooth talker.”

Wilmer caught her hand and pressed a kiss to it.

Outside the crowd, Serena stood quietly, watching everything. Her fingers slowly clenched.

The crystal chandelier’s light was blinding but not nearly as blinding as this scene.

After a moment, she wiped the blood from her palm, then grabbed a candlestick and smashed it straight into the champagne tower beside her.

With a crash, the entire tower collapsed.

The loud noise instantly silenced the room. When everyone saw who it was, the smiles on their faces froze.

“M-Mrs. Marchetti…”

Staring at their boss with a flat expression, she spat, “Don’t call me that. I don’t deserve that.”

In an instant, the air turned painfully awkward.

Wilmer clearly hadn’t expected that. He narrowed his eyes slightly. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

His hand stayed on Brionne’s waist. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t even bother to hide it. Instead, he lit a cigarette and blew smoke in Serena’s direction.

“Chasing me once or twice is cute. But you…”

He looked at her with a half-smile, like she wasn’t his legal wife but some clueless clown.

“What’s your plan this time?”

He pointed toward the deck. “Perfect spot out there to jump into the ocean. You gonna do it?”

The crowd immediately made way for her, clearing a path to the deck.

His men even “helpfully” arranged for people to wait in the water, ready for a rescue.

Serena’s fingers trembled.

It was true.

She’d used this kind of desperate, suicidal stunt so many times to force him back to her side.

At first, he panicked. Then he got used to it. Then he got tired of it. Now, he treated it like entertainment.

But this time, Serena didn’t walk toward the ocean.

She slapped him.

The smack was crisp and loud. Wilmer didn’t even see it coming.

Before he could react, the second slap landed fast and hard.

On the third, he grabbed her right hand. But Serena had expected that. Her left hand came up instantly.

One slap. Two slaps. Three slaps. The entire room fell dead silent.

Wilmer sat there on the couch, bewildered.

A few seconds later, Brionne’s scream shattered the suffocating quiet.

“Serena! How dare you hit Wilmer?! You crazy bitch!”

Wilmer finally snapped out of it. He looked at Serena like he was seeing her for the first time, disbelief in his eyes. Then he licked the blood at the corner of his lips, his smirk slowly fading.

“What now?”

Suddenly, the room felt ten degrees colder under his dark presence.

He yanked Serena forward and gripped her chin. “Finally realized all that suicidal drama won’t win me back, so you’re switching tactics?”

Their eyes met. But this time, there was no pain in hers.

They were eerily calm like still, lifeless water.

She looked at him like that and said flatly, “Three slaps. That settles everything between us. Wilmer, we’re getting divorced.”

But the room erupted in laughter.

The coldness in Wilmer’s eyes shifted into mocking amusement.

“Divorce?” he mocked. “Serena, do you even believe that yourself?”

Hidden beneath her sleeve, Serena’s hand trembled uncontrollably.

Yeah.

Once upon a time, she wouldn’t have believed it.

After he fell for Brionne, she’d tried to kill herself multiple times just to get him to come home. She’d knelt in the rain begging him dozens of times. She’d caused scenes like a lunatic hundreds of times…

But this time, she was really letting him go.

Right then, her phone rang in her bag.

In front of Wilmer, she picked it up. “Dad,” she said, “I’m coming home for the marriage you set up.”