
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 2
I had prepared for heartbreak, but not for this.
SELENE
"I want a divorce."
The words trembled on my lips as I stared at the envelope clutched in my hands, the thick cream paper inside heavy with finality.
"Three years with you have been hell and I... I..." My voice cracked. I squeezed my eyes shut as pain flooded my chest.
"No, Selene. No."
I opened my eyes and met my reflection in the mirror. She looked tired. Hollow. Like someone who had cried too much and hoped for too long.
"We had practiced this for days." I whispered bitterly to myself. "And you still couldn't say it."
With a shaky breath, I opened the envelope and slid out the divorce papers. The edges trembled between my fingers.
It had taken me three years to finally gather the courage to leave this hell disguised as marriage. Three years of silence, endurance, and pretending everything was fine.
What had taken me so long?
Fear? Hope? Foolish love that was never returned?
I had loved Sebastian. Truly. Even now, the memory still burned of how the younger me used to watch him from afar, of how my heart used to race with a foolish crush I never thought would matter. When our families decided we would marry to strengthen business ties, I hadn't been angry. I hadn't been afraid.
A part of me had even been... hopeful.
Maybe this was fate, I had thought.
Maybe this was my chance.
Even when he treated me like I didn't exist, I had held on. I had convinced myself I could change him, that I could fix what was broken inside him. I believed that if I loved him hard enough, patiently enough, he would eventually love me too.
How naïve I had been.
It wasn't until I heard another woman's name fall from his lips in his sleep that reality finally shattered my illusion. In that moment, everything became painfully clear.
I would never be the one he wanted.
I would never be the woman he loved.
So I stopped hoping.
I stopped believing.
I accepted the truth that nothing between us would ever change.
And I made my decision.
I wouldn't trap him in this marriage any longer. Because deep down, I knew... he wanted this divorce more than anyone. He just didn't want to be the one to say it. So he pushed me away. Frustrated me, hurt me, waited for me to give up.
He won.
I lost.
My gaze dropped to the documents again, my heart pounding wildly, as if begging me to change my mind. But I didn't. I straightened my shoulders and nodded slowly, as if answering myself.
"I've got this." I whispered.
Then I turned toward my room, ready to dress up and face the end of a story I had once believed would last forever.
Earlier today, I had sent Sebastian a message, asking him to come home because I needed to talk to him about something important. As expected, he saw it and ignored it.
He left no reply.
No acknowledgment.
I told myself it didn't matter. Whether he responded or not, all that mattered was that he showed up.
I walked into my closet and my eyes landed on the red lace dress I had bought recently. I had chosen it for today. If this was the end, I wanted to look beautiful while saying it.
So I slipped it on, applied light makeup, and stared at my reflection for a long moment before forcing myself to turn away.
Then I walked to the living room.
I placed the envelope carefully on the table, as if it were fragile, and sat on the couch. The ticking of the wall clock echoed loudly in the quiet room.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
My heart raced with it.
It was 7:30 p.m.
Just thirty minutes left.
My palms were damp, my legs restless, my mind spinning with a thousand thoughts I couldn't control. I kept glancing at the door, half-dreading, half-waiting for it to open.
Desperate for any kind of distraction, I grabbed the remote and turned on the television.
The screen flickered to life.
And there he was.
Sebastian Kingsley in an interview.
A bitter scoff escaped my lips. "I asked for a distraction and this is what I get instead." I muttered.
I let the remote slip from my fingers, where it landed softly beside me on the couch. My back sank into the cushions as boredom crept in, the host's endless business questions washing over me like meaningless noise. They talked about stocks, expansion, profit margins. The same old story.
I yawned just as the host leaned forward and smiled brightly at the camera.
"So, Mr. Kingsley," she said playfully, "how is married life treating you?"
My heart jolted. I straightened instantly, every trace of drowsiness gone.
Sebastian chuckled effortlessly, like he'd rehearsed this moment.
"Married life?" He repeated, then shrugged casually. "Honestly, I've been swamped with work. The company has been expanding, and that's my main focus right now."
Work.
Always work.
My lips pressed into a thin line. What on earth had I been expecting?
The host laughed. "You always manage to dodge that question." She teased. "Every time we bring up your wife, you change the subject."
She tilted her head thoughtfully. "You know, if it weren't for the wedding ring on your finger, no one would even know you're married."
The audience burst into laughter.
But I didn't.
My gaze dropped to the screen, to the silver band circling his finger. That was the only proof that I existed in his world. And even that... meant nothing.
Sebastian simply smiled, saying nothing.
And somehow, his silence hurt more than any cruel words ever could.
My eyes burned. I rose from the couch and walked unsteadily to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of wine and a glass. I poured wine and downed it in one gulp.
"I won't cry." I whispered to myself. Just for today, I refused to let a single tear fall.
With the bottle of wine in one hand and the glass in the other, I walked back to the couch and sank into it slowly. I took slow sips, pretending it was enough to numb the ache inside me.
Time blurred.
My eyelids grew heavy, sleep threatening to pull me under when I suddenly jolted upright. I blinked and turned toward the wall clock.
10:00 p.m.
And Sebastian still wasn't home.
A bitter sigh escaped my lips as I reached for my phone from the table. Maybe he had sent a message. Maybe an apology. An excuse.
Nothing. My screen remained painfully empty.
My brows furrowed and something hot twisted in my chest. Without thinking, my fingers flew across the screen, typing aggressively, pouring out every unspoken thought I had swallowed for three long years.
"You said you'd be home by eight. It's ten now.
I just wanted to talk, is that too much to ask?"
I hit send, my fingers trembling. But the words weren't enough. The hurt inside me kept spilling.
"I can't keep doing this anymore, Sebastian. Being invisible in my own marriage is killing me."
I sent it before I could change my mind.
Seconds passed.
Then minutes.
The small blue ticks appeared-seen.
Still no reply.
Against my better judgment, I did the one thing he had warned me never to do.
I called him.
The phone rang.
And rang.
And rang again.
Just when I thought he wouldn't pick up, the call connected.
I didn't give him a chance to speak.
"Do you enjoy this?" I burst out, my voice shaking. "Ignoring me like I don't exist? Do you have any idea how humiliating this feels, waiting for you like some fool?"
Three years of swallowed pain poured out all at once.
"I don't deserve to be treated this way." I whispered, my voice breaking as the tears I'd been holding back finally spilled over. "I can't do this anymore. I want a divorce. I'll disappear from your life for good. Hope you're happy now."
There was no answer.
Just silence and the faint hum of an engine on the other end of the line.
Even after everything I said, he still ignored me.
"I hate you, Sebastian Kingsley." I muttered, before ending the call. The moment the line went dead, I broke down completely, sobbing like my heart was being torn apart piece by piece.
I didn't know how long I cried. Minutes? Hours? Time lost meaning.
Then my phone rang.
But I was beyond shocked to see the caller was Sebastian.
He never called. Not once. Was this his way of telling me he wanted the divorce too?
I almost ignored it. But the phone kept ringing, the sound echoing loudly in the quiet room. With shaky fingers, I finally picked up, saying nothing.
"Hello?"
The voice wasn't his.
It was a woman.
I closed my eyes, exhaustion washing over me. How much more does he plan to hurt me?
"Hello, is this Mrs. Kingsley?" The voice asked again, polite and calm.
"Yes." I replied coldly, reaching for my glass of wine. "So?"
"I'm calling from Evercare Hospital."
My grip tightened around the glass.
"This is to inform you that your husband was involved in a tragic accident, and your presence is urgently required here."
The glass slipped from my hand and shattered against the floor.
Sebastian... had an accident?
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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.