The Billionaire's Forgotten Wife

My memory didn't just fade—it severed. Clean. The reel stopped exactly ten years ago, when my hatred for Asher Vance burned at its absolute peak.

The last thing I remember, we were sworn enemies. We'd been tearing into each other over a business deal, and the fight escalated until we were physically grappling on a staircase. We both went down. I ended up with a fractured leg; he walked away with seven stitches above his eyebrow.

We'd glared at each other through the pain, spitting venom, each wishing the other dead.

But according to Sophie, my best friend, that was a decade ago.

Apparently, Asher Vance and I have been married for six years. The "golden couple" of our social circle—the envy of everyone. Though Sophie's voice had faltered when she mentioned his heart had recently... wandered.

Today, I saw the proof.

A woman stood in my living room, cradling a swollen belly with smug possessiveness. Asher positioned himself in front of her like a shield.

He glared at me, brows knotted. "Done with the theatrics? She's unwell. She needs rest. Meanwhile, you wrap some gauze around your head and claim you were in a car crash?"

I looked at him, and something strange bubbled up in my chest.

I wanted to laugh.

This feels right.

Asher Vance and I were never meant to be lovers. We were born for this—at each other's throats, locked in a war of attrition until one of us dropped.

——

"What are you laughing at?" His expression shifted from annoyance to confusion.

Even Jessica Stanley seemed thrown. She hadn't expected me to smile.

I ended my call with Sophie and cleared my throat. "Nothing."

The memories Sophie had briefed me on raced through my mind. The "current me" apparently spent her days waiting bitterly for him to come home. So I masked my amusement and forced mild surprise onto my face. "Husband. You're finally home."

My gaze drifted over him and Jessica, and I felt a deep, quiet satisfaction.

Judging by the bump, she was three or four months along. The pregnancy was stable. He couldn't easily get rid of this child.

I watched his hand hover protectively near her, the way he looked at her like he expected me to lunge. Perfect.

The Leah of ten years ago—the one who apparently wanted to play house with him—was an idiot. Now? I only hoped the two of them would stay deeply in love and produce a precious heir as soon as possible.

Lock yourselves together. Do me a favor.

Asher's expression softened. He turned to the secretary behind him. "See? I told you. Leah adores me. How could she stay angry over something so small? She's just acting out for attention." He waved a hand. "Go buy some daily necessities for Jessica."

My eyes lit up. He wants the mistress to move in? Is today my lucky day?

The secretary—whom I'd personally mentored—looked at me with concern. "President Vance, Madam just returned from the hospital after a car accident. Bringing Miss Stanley into the home now... isn't that disrespectful to Madam?"

Asher shot me a glance, his explanation clipped. "Jessica tripped today. It's dark, her place is far. I'm not comfortable leaving her alone." He paused. "Leah isn't unreasonable."

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning. Cleared my throat. Feigned somber calm. "Let her in."

Jessica Stanley limped through the door, one hand still on her belly. Her eyes widened as she took in the interior. "I didn't realize you lived in such luxury. I've never seen anything like it."

I looked at her, unimpressed. "If you can't afford quality, that's your problem. I bought everything here myself."

Asher froze. His gaze swept over the furnishings. Guilt flickered in his eyes. He leaned toward me, lowering his voice. "I've neglected you recently. It's been too long since I bought you a gift. Tomorrow, I'll take you to pick out an Hermès bag."

"No need," I said flatly.

Even if you gave it to me, I'd feel like my hands were dirty.

His eyes narrowed, searching my face. "Why are you being so... today..."

Before he could say "obedient," I realized I needed to maintain cover. I couldn't let him discover the amnesia yet. I sharpened my glare. "Just go over there with your little lover."

His tension vanished, replaced by a low, arrogant chuckle. He draped his arm over my shoulders. "I know you're jealous. Leah, there really isn't anything between us. The child... it was an accident. I was drugged that night. I had no choice—"