The Husband Who Fell in Love With Me Twice
"Do you enjoy this? Ignoring me like I don't exist? Do you have any idea how humiliating this feels, waiting for you like some fool?"
After three years of a cold, loveless marriage, Selene Henderson finally gathers the courage to walk away from her distant billionaire husband, Sebastian Kingsley.
She's ready to file for divorce... until a tragic accident changes everything.
When Sebastian wakes up with no memory of the woman he once pushed away, Selene finds herself trapped in a marriage she was desperate to escape, this time with a man who suddenly looks at her like she's his whole world.
But can love born from broken memories survive the truth of their painful past?
Or will the secrets she's been hiding destroy them all over again?
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Chapter 10
SELENE
I had promised myself I would tell Sebastian the truth today.
But when the moment came, I couldn't bring myself to do it-not after everything we had shared yesterday. Not after the laughter, the quiet conversations, the meal we'd eaten together. Not after lying beside him, breathing the same air. Not after the words he'd whispered to me in the dark.
What was I supposed to do after that?
The question weighed heavily on my chest, leaving me torn between guilt and longing. I knew what the right thing was. I had always known. And yet, the selfish part of me, the part that wanted this fragile peace to last just a little longer won.
So I stayed silent.
And I kept the truth to myself.
There was no point telling him. That was the excuse I clung to, the one I repeated to myself until it dulled the edge of guilt pressing against my chest. The truth would only confuse him. At least, that's what I told myself.
"What are you thinking about?" A raspy voice murmured beside me.
I turned my head and found Sebastian already awake. He lay on his side, facing me, one arm bent beneath his head, his knuckles propping his cheek as he watched me with quiet attentiveness.
I blinked, still not fully accustomed to waking up this close to him. "Nothing." I replied, pushing myself upright. "I should go-"
My words dissolved into a sharp breath as he reached out, his hand circling my waist and gently but firmly pulling me back. The movement stopped me in place, my pulse skidding as I realized he had no intention of letting me slip away so easily.
He leaned closer, his grip loosening though his hand remained firm at my waist.
"Disappearing again?" He murmured, his voice low, almost lazy.
I shook my head quickly. "I just wanted to take a shower."
"Hm." The sound vibrated against my skin as his thumb began tracing slow, absent circles at my side. "And you're planning to get up without doing it?"
I tilted my head, genuinely confused. "Doing what?"
His lips curved into a faint pout.
I frowned, studying his face, trying to decipher what he meant, only to realize he was enjoying my confusion far too much.
"I'm running low on energy." He murmured, a slow smile tugging at his lips. "I need a recharge."
Recharge?
"Are you hungry?" The question slipped out before I could think.
"Yes." His answer came easily, his thumb still tracing idle circles along my side, sending an unfamiliar flutter through my stomach. His touch was doing things to me-quiet, unsettling things I wasn't prepared for.
Then he leaned closer, close enough that I felt his breath brush my cheek.
"But not for food."
His voice dropped. "There's something else I'm craving."
Oh.
Heat rushed to my face as understanding dawned on me.
Right.
I definitely knew what he meant.
I swallowed and tried to look away, but he caught my chin with a single finger, tilting my face up, as though giving me time to pull back if I wanted to. I didn't. My lips parted on a shaky breath as our noses brushed, his warmth so close it stole the air from my lungs. His lips hovered there, a heartbeat away.
Sebastian was about to kiss me. I felt it in the charged stillness between us, in the way the world seemed to narrow until there was nothing but that fragile distance. One small movement, just one, and our lips would meet.
Did I want this? Of course I did.
But my heart wasn't racing with anticipation. It was pounding with fear.
What if he remembered the kiss on the couch? What if, in this moment, another woman's name slipped from his lips? The thought tightened my chest, yet it didn't stop the ache of wanting him. I wanted his kiss. I wanted to know how it felt-again, or maybe for the first time.
His lips were just about to touch mine when the door swung open.
I flinched like a teenager caught doing something forbidden. We both snapped our heads toward the doorway, and there stood the Kingsley family, frozen in place, mouths hanging open. That was when reality crashed down on me. Sebastian was half over me, close enough that there was no mistaking what they'd walked in on.
I scrambled away and sat up, my face burning. Sebastian rolled off to the other side of the bed, muttering something under his breath that I couldn't quite catch.
"Don't you guys know how to knock?" He snapped, irritation sharp in his voice as he dragged a hand through his hair.
"Sorry." Mr. Kingsley said, waving a dismissive hand at Sebastian before turning to June. "Why didn't you knock before coming in?"
"I didn't know they would be..." Nora gestured awkwardly with her hands, trailing off.
I stared at my lap, my heart still racing for reasons I wasn't sure I wanted to untangle just yet.
"So... how are you feeling, Sebastian?" Mrs. Kingsley cut in quickly, her voice a little too bright as she crossed the room, a nylon bag of takeaways rustling in her hand.
Sebastian merely shrugged as he pushed himself upright on the couch, his expression unreadable, as though nothing unusual had just happened.
I slipped off the bed, suddenly unsure of where to place myself, and rubbed at my elbow in a nervous, absent motion.
Mrs. Kingsley's sharp voice cut through the room. "What are you doing just standing there? Don't you know you're supposed to arrange this?" She pointed pointedly at the takeaways as she set them down on the table.
"I'm sorry." I murmured, hurrying forward to do as told.
I had barely reached for the containers when a firm hand closed around my wrist, stopping me cold. I looked up, startled, straight into Sebastian's eyes.
"What are you trying to do?" His voice came out low and tight, edged with something that sounded dangerously close to anger.
I turned instinctively toward my mother-in-law. Her mouth hung open, shock written plainly across her face, as the room fell into a stunned, uneasy silence.
Mrs. Kingsley was the first to recover.
"Sebastian," she said carefully, the smile she forced into place failing to reach her eyes. "I was only asking Selene to help. There's no need for that tone."
His grip on my wrist didn't loosen.
"She doesn't work for you." He replied flatly.
A heavy silence settled over the room.
"I'm your mother," Mrs. Kingsley said at last, her composure stiffening. "And she's your wife. Arranging food isn't beneath her."
Sebastian's jaw tightened, a muscle ticking beneath his skin.
"And ordering her around isn't your place."
His mother scoffed. "When did I order her?" She asked, turning to the others as though searching for support.
No one spoke.
Sebastian turned to me then. His hand finally released my wrist, but the warmth of his touch lingered. "Go sit," he said gently. "I'll arrange it."
Without waiting for a response, he moved to the table and began unpacking the dishes himself.
He had told me to sit, yet I remained rooted where I stood. I couldn't quite believe what I was seeing. I was used to the sharp words, the casual authority in my mother-in-law's voice, the way my sister-in-law echoed it. I had learned to accept it, to endure it.
But this... this version of Sebastian, standing between me and them without hesitation sent a warmth spreading through my chest. I tried to hide my smile, but it slipped out anyway, betraying me completely.
With Sebastian openly defying his mother, the atmosphere in the ward shifted. The air grew strained. I noticed how careful they became, how their words softened, how their confidence faltered.
They spoke of his health. Of the family business. Of things that felt suddenly trivial.
And yet, throughout it all, Sebastian never once let me out of his sight.
***
After days in the hospital, Sebastian was finally discharged. Relief should have been the loudest thing in my chest. Instead, it was dread.
To keep my lies intact, I called Vincent and asked him to bring Sebastian's belongings to the house. Clothes, shoes, the little things that made it look as though he truly lived there. Together, we rearranged the space, added items that had never belonged, filled empty corners with borrowed memories until the house resembled a matrimonial home.
Too convincing, perhaps.
As I stood there, surveying our handiwork, a question gnawed at me. Was I going too far? Was this still protection... or outright deception?
The question lingered as Sebastian stepped inside.
He paused just beyond the doorway, his gaze drifting slowly around the house, taking in every detail as though he were searching for something he couldn't name.
"Does it look familiar?" I asked, watching him carefully.
"No." He replied.
His eyes had settled on the wedding portrait hanging in the living room. It hadn't been there before. I had made sure of that. A married couple was supposed to have their wedding photo on display. At least, that was what I'd told myself when I hung it there.
"Would you like anything?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
"Water." He said, finally looking away from the portrait.
"Okay."
I walked to the fridge, retrieved a bottle of water, and turned back-
He was gone.
A sudden unease crept up my spine. I hurried into the living room and froze.
Sebastian stood between the couch and the table, an envelope clutched in his hand.
My heart stopped.
The divorce papers.
I had forgotten them. Forgotten to hide them. Forgotten to erase the one thing that could destroy everything I'd built.
"No!" I shouted, rushing toward him.
But I was already too late.
Sebastian had opened the envelope.
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9.7
Luna Elena Frost was never chosen, only assigned.
Bound to Alpha Alaric Ashbourne through a cold contractual marriage, she endures three years as a Luna in name only. He never comes home, never defends her, and never looks at her, while his heart belongs to another woman.
At his grandmother's funeral, Alaric publicly dissolves their marriage, humiliating Elena before the entire pack. In that moment, she finally understands the truth. She was never wanted.
But the Moon has not abandoned her.
A forgotten night resurfaces. Her long-silent wolf begins to awaken. And secrets buried within her bloodline start to surface, drawing danger from every direction.
Cast out by the pack that once used her, Elena must flee, survive, and uncover her true power.
Only then does the Alpha realize his mistake.
By the time he turns back in regret, the Luna he rejected may already be gone forever.
8.3
Betrayed at the altar. Replaced by her own sister.
On what should have been the happiest day of her life, Amara loses everything-her fiancé, her dignity, and her future.
But that same night, a dangerous man steps out of the shadows with an offer she can't refuse.
Marriage. Power. Revenge.
Now bound to a ruthless CEO, Amara is ready to destroy everyone who betrayed her.
There's just one problem...
Her new husband knows more about her past than he should.
And the closer she gets to revenge-
the more she realizes she may have married the man who ruined her in the first place.
8.4
Carissa's son was dying in the ICU, and the bone marrow match had just failed.
The billionaire father, Guilford Gates, cornered her with a cruel ultimatum: naturally conceive a "savior sibling" to save their son. But what shocked Carissa more was his family's sudden accusation that she had heartlessly sold her baby to them three years ago.
"You sold your own flesh and blood to us for five million dollars, so your body belongs to the Gates family."
She was dragged into their gilded estate, treated like a filthy, rented womb. Guilford's new fiancée mocked her, the matriarch humiliated her, and Guilford looked at her with pure disgust. When she desperately tried to feed her sick son and accidentally made him vomit, Guilford violently shoved her away and banned her from the room.
Carissa was devastated and entirely confused. She had never seen a single cent of that five million. Driven by a desperate need for the truth, she investigated and uncovered a horrifying reality: her own father and stepmother had secretly trafficked her baby to the billionaire behind her back, leaving her to bear the ultimate blame.
Looking at the bank transfer record bought with her son's life, the last shred of Carissa's vulnerability died.
She signed the conception contract without asking for a single penny. She was going to use the Gates family's immense power to destroy the blood relatives who sold her, and she would survive this hell to take back her son.
9.6
Minutes before announcing her grand engagement, Darla caught her fiancé sleeping with her stepsister.
She publicly exposed them and canceled the wedding on the spot.
Furious, her adoptive mother demanded Darla marry a fifty-five-year-old predator to save their broken business deal.
"If you don't do exactly what I say, I'll let your father rot in prison for the rest of his life."
Desperate to escape her family's control, Darla grabbed a massive, intimidating hotel security guard she bumped into in the hallway.
She shoved all the cash in her purse at him—eight hundred dollars—and begged him to fake-marry her.
They signed the papers at City Hall that same day.
But the nightmare didn't end.
That evening, Darla received a cold phone call from the state penitentiary.
Her father had been found dead in his cell, and her company, owned by her ex-fiancé's family, fired her immediately.
They had taken everything from her, leaving her completely broken and sobbing on the floor of her tiny apartment.
She thought she had nothing left but a broke, fake husband to keep her company.
She had no idea that the "poor security guard" holding her in his arms was actually Anson Prince, a ruthless billionaire CEO.
And he was already making the calls to tear her abusers' empires to the ground.
8.3
Alena landed at JFK, eager to call her fiancé of three years.
But a sudden message from her best friend shattered her world: a high-resolution photo of Darrin passionately kissing another woman. The woman was Katrina, her older sister.
Alena rushed to the grand ballroom and confronted them in front of New York's elite. Instead of an apology, her own mother slapped her across the face.
"You jealous, spiteful girl. Trying to ruin your sister's happiness because you can't handle your own failures."
Darrin coldly wrapped a protective arm around Katrina. The nightmare worsened when they ambushed Alena at her apartment, demanding she sign an NDA to cover up the affair and save their family's failing business. If she refused, her father threatened to tell her frail grandfather the truth, knowing the shock would trigger a fatal heart attack.
Alena was suffocated by the sheer magnitude of the betrayal. Her family was weaponizing the only person who truly loved her, treating her like a disposable pawn to protect the sister who stole her life. How could her own flesh and blood be so sickeningly cruel?
Cornered and entirely out of options, Alena pulled a matte-black business card from her pocket.
It belonged to Andrew Spencer, the ruthless billionaire who had rescued her from the freezing rain, and the apex predator Darrin feared most. He had offered her a transactional marriage. If her family wanted to destroy her, she would become their worst nightmare. She picked up her phone and dialed his number.
9.2
I was a broke freelance copywriter, tortured for three sleepless nights by an impossible corporate client.
Needing to vent, I typed out a wild, highly inappropriate rant mocking the brand's stiff heritage.
But in my exhausted, sleep-deprived blur, I accidentally sent the massive block of text to the wrong chat.
The recipient wasn't my friend. It was Emerson Beard, the elite, ruthless brand consultant I was supposed to desperately network with.
I waited for the professional execution, terrified of the massive five-figure penalty fee hanging over my head.
Instead, he didn't block me. He critiqued my unhinged draft.
He saved my career through late-night, encrypted phone calls, his deep, commanding voice becoming my only lifeline.
But when I heard a woman with a sultry French accent knocking on his hotel door during our call, my ugly jealousy flared.
I yelled at him and hung up, completely humiliating myself.
I thought I was just a pathetic, annoying workaholic interrupting his romantic getaway.
But he texted back to clarify he was entirely single, and in the process, realized I was actually twenty-five, not a fresh-out-of-school teenager like he had assumed.
The cold, distant mentor instantly vanished.
In his place was a man radiating a raw, aggressive, and predatory energy that bled right through the screen.
"Texting is too inefficient. The full integration requires face-to-face communication."
He dropped a location pin for an ultra-exclusive Manhattan club, demanding I meet him to save my contract.
Wearing a desperately bought emerald silk dress, I pushed open the heavy oak door, stepping right into the trap of a man who had just taken off his leash.