
The Amnesiac Billionaire's Fake Perfect Wife
For three years, Jessenia lived as the perfect, grieving fiancée of her missing billionaire boss, Harlan Schwartz, enjoying his massive trust fund and raising their son.
Then, the hospital called. Harlan had been found alive.
Jessenia was paralyzed with terror. Before his plane crashed, Harlan despised her. She was just a scheming assistant who got pregnant. He had thrown a massive check and an NDA at her, ordering her to disappear forever or he would destroy her life.
But the doctors revealed Harlan had severe amnesia. He forgot the NDA, and he forgot his deep hatred for her.
Jessenia seized the chance, using their son to convince him they were deeply in love. Harlan accepted the logical lie, but his body didn't. Every time she tried to touch him, his muscles turned to stone, physically recoiling from her in instinctual disgust.
To make matters worse, Harlan brought back Kaylee, the innocent-looking island girl who saved him.
"Cole never said he had a fiancée," Kaylee whispered, staring at Jessenia's massive diamond ring with calculating eyes.
Kaylee quickly realized Jessenia had no legal marriage certificate and launched a vicious, silent war to usurp her position, constantly setting traps to expose Jessenia's fabricated romantic timeline.
Every day is a terrifying tightrope walk. Harlan's sharp, analytical brain is already noticing the flaws in her fake photos and stories.
If he remembers the truth, he won't just kick her out. He will take her son and throw her in prison for fraud. Jessenia must break his physical defenses and eliminate the island girl before her flawless circle of lies shatters completely.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 5
The long rectangular dining table was made of dark walnut. The silver cutlery gleamed under the crystal chandelier. The private chef had prepared a Michelin-star French dinner, but the atmosphere in the room was suffocating.
Harlan sat at the head of the table. He was wearing a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. Jessenia sat to his right, with Leo in a high chair beside her. Kaylee sat on the left, picking at her food.
Leo was stabbing a piece of mashed carrot with his small silver fork.
"Daddy," Leo babbled happily. "Look! Bonjour!"
Harlan paused with his wine glass halfway to his mouth. He looked at his son. "Your pronunciation is getting better, Leo," Harlan replied in flawless, unaccented French.
Jessenia smiled. She took a sip of her sparkling water, playing the role of the proud, elegant mother.
Leo dropped his fork. He looked at Harlan with wide, curious eyes.
"Mommy, Paris! Daddy, Paris!" Leo babbled loudly, pointing a sticky finger at the dining room wall where a classic French painting hung.
Harlan set his wine glass down. He wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. "Paris?" he asked softly, looking at the boy.
Kaylee dropped her fork. She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with sudden, sharp interest. "Oh? Have you guys been to Paris together? When was that?"
The silver knife in Jessenia's hand slipped. The blade scraped violently against the bone china plate. The screeching sound echoed through the silent dining room.
Jessenia's heart stopped beating. The air in her lungs turned to lead.
She had fabricated their entire dating timeline. According to the lie she told the Schwartz family, they had taken a romantic trip to Paris the Thanksgiving before she got pregnant. But the truth was, Harlan had been in Dubai on a business trip that Thanksgiving. Jessenia had been sitting in a cubicle in New York, processing his travel expenses.
Kaylee didn't stop. She tilted her head, her voice dripping with fake innocence.
"Wait," Kaylee said. "Cole, didn't you tell me on the island that you absolutely hate Paris? You said you haven't been there since you were in college."
Harlan's dark eyebrows pulled together. He slowly turned his head and looked at Jessenia. His eyes were piercing, searching for a logical explanation.
Jessenia's palms began to sweat profusely. A cold drop of sweat rolled down her spine. The timeline was broken. If Harlan asked his assistant to pull his flight records, she was dead.
She forced a laugh. It sounded slightly breathless, but she prayed it sounded natural.
"Oh, Leo, sweetheart," Jessenia said, reaching out to stroke the boy's hair. "You're getting your stories mixed up. That was the trip Mommy took with Aunt Sarah. Remember the pictures?"
She looked at Harlan. She kept her eyes wide and steady.
Harlan didn't look convinced. The analytical machinery in his brain was working. He was a billionaire who built an empire on details. He didn't miss inconsistencies.
Jessenia braced herself for the interrogation. She prepared to watch her entire life crumble over a mashed carrot.
But Harlan looked down at Leo. The boy looked confused and slightly upset by the sudden tension in the room. Harlan's jaw tightened. The instinct to protect his son from this uncomfortable interrogation overrode his logical suspicion.
Harlan's brow furrowed. "Dubai... Paris..." He pressed his fingers to his temple, his face tightening in genuine discomfort. "I don't know. My head hurts." He shifted his gaze sharply to Kaylee, shutting down the probe. "Leo, eat your carrots."
Jessenia stopped breathing. She watched the defensive wall slam down over Harlan's expression. He wasn't confirming her story, but he was actively choosing to suppress the contradiction for the sake of peace. He was protecting the family unit.
She immediately grabbed the lifeline of his silence. She let out a soft, emotional sigh, reaching over to stroke Harlan's arm.
"Don't push yourself, darling," Jessenia whispered. She let a single tear pool in her eye. "The memories will come back when they're ready."
Kaylee's face turned pale. Her mouth opened slightly in disbelief. She had tried to blow up the table, and instead, she had accidentally handed them a romantic milestone.
Leo clapped his hands. "Yay! Daddy went to Paris!"
Dinner resumed. The crisis was averted.
An hour later, Jessenia locked herself in the first-floor powder room. She leaned her back against the heavy wooden door and slid down to the marble floor. She gasped for air, her chest heaving.
Words were not enough. Verbal lies were too fragile. Children talked. Green tea bitches probed. She needed something solid. She needed physical proof to lock Harlan's memory into the cage she had built.
You may also like

8.0
"Just ninety days, Viv. Then I have to marry her."
"And what am I supposed to do when the clock runs out?"
He's the meticulous, sterile CEO destined for a cold corporate marriage. She's the fiery, turpentine-scented artist who lives for chaos. Josh Sterling has been Vivian Rossi's safe harbor and secret heartbreak since they were ten.
But with his wedding just three months away, decades of tension finally explode. Terrified of losing their friendship but helpless against the attraction, they make a devastating bargain: 90 days. Friends with benefits. No feelings. No future
It was supposed to be a temporary goodbye to the 'what-ifs.' But as the days bleed into weeks, their arrangement becomes a seductive torture. Viv is forced to watch the man she loves prepare to marry another, and Josh must confront a terrifying truth, the only person who has ever truly seen him is the one he's set to abandon.
90 days with the man i can't have is a searing, high-emotion contemporary romance. When time runs out, duty and desire will clash, demanding the ultimate sacrifice.

9.1
Elise thought her life was finally falling into place. She turned down her father's company to work as executive assistant to Marcus Grey-the boy she's loved since childhood, now the powerful CEO she's devoted her life to.
But when Marcus proposes to another woman, Elise's world crumbles. Enter Sebastian Deluca-Marcus's tattooed, ruthless, long-estranged brother. He's everything Marcus isn't: dangerous, magnetic, and determined to take back his place in New York.
But, there's something odd about him.
Something changed since he arrived.
Bound by family secrets and a mutual desire to expose Marcus's fiancée, Elise and Sebastian form an uneasy alliance. But as sparks ignite between them, Elise must choose: remain loyal to the boy she thought she loved, or risk everything for the man who sees her as more than a shadow.
Some loves are safe. Others are consuming. Which one will she survive?

8.0
My abusive step-family isolated me completely, holding my mother's medical funds hostage to control my every move.
Yesterday, they finalized my sale.
"You will marry Rudy Petrov next month. He is fifty, wealthy, and willing to overlook your lack of pedigree."
Pushed to the absolute edge, I did the insane. I posted an ad online offering my life savings of $50,000 for a contract husband. A stranger named Brennan agreed.
But my family wouldn't let me go. They forced me back for a dinner by threatening my mother's life-saving prescriptions.
At the table, they relentlessly mocked my new "poor IT guy" husband and intentionally burned my hand with boiling tea.
Worse, the housekeeper locked me in a guest room and forced drugs down my throat so Rudy could come in and assault me.
I lay there paralyzed on the floor, bleeding from Rudy's slap, utterly terrified. I couldn't understand why my own family would throw me to the wolves, and I felt a crushing guilt for dragging an innocent, ordinary guy into my nightmare.
Until a pitch-black Maybach smashed through the estate's wrought-iron gates at eighty miles an hour.
My "poor" husband kicked the solid oak doors off their hinges, beat Rudy half to death, and carried me out into the rain.
I didn't know it yet, but the ordinary man I hired to save me was a ruthless billionaire, and he was about to erase my family's entire empire by morning.

7.1
For seven years, I hid my identity as a wealthy heiress to be with my boyfriend, Ewing. I followed him across the country and made myself small so he could feel big.
On Thanksgiving, he ditched our celebration for his first love, Bree, who supposedly had a "burst pipe."
Later, she posted an intimate selfie with him, calling him her "hero."
Then she sent me a video of him at a bar, laughing with his friends.
"She's just being dramatic," he slurred, smirking at the camera. "A new necklace and she'll forget all about it. She's easy."
Easy. Seven years of my life, my love, my sacrifice-all reduced to that one word. I realized I was never his partner. I was just a placeholder.
I didn't cry. I packed my bags, booked a one-way flight to New York, and sent him one final text before blocking his number.
"Don't bother coming home. I'm getting married."

8.9
Aubree Hamilton was the top-tier executive assistant to Wall Street's most ruthless titan, Beck Franco. A month ago, she made a catastrophic mistake and spent the night in his bed.
Thinking she had erased the mistake with a morning-after pill, she panicked upon his return and lied about being engaged to push him away.
But Beck, a man who despised disloyalty above all else, immediately suspended her and ordered her escorted out of the building. Her nightmare only escalated when her toxic ex-boyfriend attacked her on the street, tearing her purse open and exposing the empty morning-after pill box to the public—and to Beck, who was watching from his penthouse. After having his security rescue her, Beck trapped her in his car, ruthlessly tearing apart her fake engagement. Later in her apartment, the suffocating tension between them almost ignited into a kiss, but a violent wave of nausea suddenly hit Aubree.
She shoved him away with all her strength and violently threw up in the bathroom.
Beck took it as the ultimate physical disgust. He walked out, deeply humiliated and dangerously obsessed, unleashing his resources to investigate her every move.
Left alone and trembling, Aubree finally checked the crushed white box. The pill she took had expired a month ago.
Staring at the two bright pink lines on the pregnancy test, she made a desperate vow: Beck Franco could never know she was carrying his child, and she had to disappear before he found out.

9.5
Eda Roman clutched her father's diagnostic report, its sharp edge cutting her finger. His cancer had mutated, standard treatment failed, and a fifty thousand dollar deposit for experimental therapy was due by midnight. Fail to pay, and his hospital bed would be cleared.
Wife to Axel Foley, a multi-billion dollar CEO, Eda faced an impossible chasm. Her family trust, controlled by Keri Lane, offered a meager three hundred dollars.
An emergency fund request met a forty-eight-hour review—a death sentence. Keri's assistant denied expedite and blocked calls. Desperate, Eda called Axel, but his assistant dismissed her with lies, Axel's laughter echoing.
Humiliation and betrayal ignited cold fury. Wife to Seattle's wealthiest, yet begging on a hospital floor? Axel's indifference and Keri's games showed her: her father's life couldn't be left in their hands.
Wiping tears, the pleading girl vanished; her survival instinct roared. Red lipstick her war paint, Eda Roman marched to Foley Group Headquarters, ready to reclaim what was hers.