Chapter 1My Arranged Husband Lost His Memory

My arranged marriage husband suddenly lost his memory.

Every ounce of his past obsession and ruthless pursuit of me vanished from his mind.

Now, he looks at me like I am a total stranger.

Furious, I slapped divorce papers onto his desk. Then, I packed my bags and dragged my best friend on a singles cruise to let loose.

But on the night of the party, a tall figure stepped out of the shadows, backing me into a corner.

In a tone that left zero room for argument, he whispered. Isla, there is no divorce in this marriage. Only widowhood.

* * *

When I rushed into the hospital corridor, Victor's assistant was already waiting by the door.

I practically jumped out of the elevator, my voice laced with a frantic edge I didn't even recognize.

"How is he? Is it serious?"

Simon offered a brief glance, his tone as steady and practiced as ever.

"Please do not worry, Mrs. Sinclair. Mr. Sinclair is fine physically, but..."

"But what?"

"He forgot a few things."

Pushing open the heavy door, I saw Victor sitting up in the hospital bed. He turned his head at the sound of my entrance.

A square of white gauze covered his temple, and a few shallow scrapes marred his sharp jawline.

He lifted his heavy eyelids. His gaze washed over me, perfectly calm and terrifyingly cold.

I froze in my tracks.

Victor Sinclair had never looked at me like that. Whenever his eyes found mine, he looked like a starving wolf locking onto its prey, burning with an intense, suffocating possessiveness.

This was the first time I had ever seen such absolute indifference in his expression.

That was the exact moment I realized I was part of the "few things" he had forgotten.

The neurologist explained that Victor's amnesia was a result of the trauma to his head during the car crash.

It was fragmented memory loss. It would not affect his daily routine or his ability to run his corporate empire.

However, the recovery timeline was entirely unpredictable.

It could take days, months, or years.

He might never remember.

And in a twist of cruel irony, every single memory of me had been completely wiped clean.

When I stepped back into the private suite, Victor was alone, casually leaning against the pillows while flipping through a stack of legal documents.

I took a hesitant step closer.

"The doctor said they need to keep you for a few days of observation. If you need anything from home, I can bring it by."

Victor studied me in silence for a long moment before asking a question.

"Are we happily married?"

I looked down, pouring a glass of water from the pitcher. "It is terrible."

The room plunged into a deafening silence.

"Why is it terrible?"

His face remained expressionless, asking the question with the genuine curiosity of a man who truly did not know the answer.

A sudden, inexplicable spike of irritation flared in my chest. I set the water glass down onto the bedside table with a sharp thud.

"A forced match is never sweet."

Victor held my gaze, one dark eyebrow slowly arching upward.

"How fortunate. I despise sweet things."