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 3
I had been ready to end us... yet I wasn't ready to lose him.
SELENE
I sat in the cold surgical waiting room, my hands clenched tightly in my lap, staring at the sterile walls. Time felt cruel and slow, stretching endlessly. The sharp scent of disinfectant burned my nose, pressed down on my chest like a weight I couldn't lift.
I had never been this scared in my entire life.
My mind wouldn't stop replaying everything I had said to him, the anger, the hurt, the words I threw at him over the phone. I had lashed out when he couldn't even defend himself.
Little did I know... he had been fighting for his life.
My gaze dropped to my trembling hands, and a single tear slipped free, landing on my knuckles. I had told him I hated him. I had said I wanted him out of my life.
But I never meant this.
I never wanted to lose him like this.
Please, God... don't take him away from me.
As I sat there praying, lost in my thoughts, hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. Voices followed, urgent and anxious. I lifted my head and turned to see Sebastian's family rushing toward me.
I quickly stood as my mother-in-law approached, her face pale with fear.
"Where is he?" She asked, her eyes scanning my face desperately.
"He's still in the operating theatre." I replied softly.
Nora, Sebastian's sister, let out a sharp breath. "How could this even happen?" She cried, then her gaze snapped to me. "My brother is fighting for his life and you're dressed like you're going to a party."
Her words cut deep.
I hadn't even thought about my clothes. I had rushed out of the house the moment I got the call, still wearing the dress I had chosen for this day. I glanced down at the red lace fabric, suddenly feeling ashamed, but I said nothing.
"Do you even care about him?" She snapped again.
Before I could answer, Mr. Kingsley's firm voice cut through the tension. "That's enough, Nora."
He turned to me, gentler now. "How long has he been in there?"
"About an hour now." I answered. He sighed heavily and fell silent.
They took seats on the cold chairs while I remained standing beside Julian, Sebastian's stepbrother.
"Are you okay?" He whispered, concern etched on his face.
I nodded slowly. He and Mr. Kingsley were the only ones in this family I felt safe talking to.
Just then, the operating theatre doors swung open.
Sebastian was wheeled out by nurses.
We all rushed forward, but Nora shoved me aside, pushing me back.
"My son... Sebastian." Mrs. Kingsley cried. "How is he? Is he going to be alright?"
"Please step aside." One of the nurses said calmly as they pushed the stretcher forward, heading toward the ward.
I watched helplessly as he was taken away from us.
The doors to the operating theatre opened again, and the main doctor stepped out. Instantly, all eyes turned toward him. He approached my father-in-law and greeted him politely.
"How did the surgery go?" Mr. Kingsley asked, worried.
"The surgery went well." The doctor said calmly. "He had internal bleeding, but we were able to stop it in time. Right now, he's stable."
A collective breath left us all at once. Relief washed through the hallway like a wave.
But the doctor wasn't finished.
"However," he continued, "he lost a lot of blood and his body is still weak. We'll be monitoring him closely for the next twenty-four hours. This period is very important."
"When will he wake up?" Mrs. Kingsley asked, clasping her hands together.
"That depends on how his body responds." The doctor replied gently. "It could be a few hours, or it might take longer. For now, he needs complete rest."
His gaze shifted then, settling on me.
"You're his wife, right?"
My breath caught in my throat. "Ah... yes." I murmured, barely audible as everyone turned to look at me.
"You can see him briefly once he's settled." The doctor said. "Try to stay calm when you do. Patients heal better when surrounded by peace."
Peace.
The word echoed in my mind.
I wasn't his peace though.
"Excuse me." The doctor said, bowing slightly to my father-in-law before walking away.
I stood frozen, wondering how I could give him peace when I had never been anything but a burden in his life.
***
Hours passed. Finally, we were allowed into his ward. But I couldn't go anywhere near him. His mother and sister crowded around his bed, their hands holding his, their voices whispering prayers. My legs ached as I sank onto a nearby couch, watching.
Sebastian's chest rose and fell slowly. He was still unconscious. The doctor had assured us he would wake up soon, but the fear refused to leave my heart.
Morning crept in quietly. I shifted on the couch, my neck stiff and aching from the awkward position I'd slept in. I was about to stretch when I heard Mrs. Kingsley's trembling voice.
"Sebastian."
She called his name again, louder this time.
Everyone rushed closer to his bed. My heart pounded as I stood and moved forward too. His eyelids fluttered... then slowly opened.
Relief crashed into me as I pressed a hand to my chest, breathing out shakily.
"You're finally awake." His mother cried, pulling him into a careful embrace.
He didn't respond.
"Call the doctor." Mr. Kingsley said quickly.
Julian rushed out of the room.
Mrs. Kingsley pulled back, her hands trembling as she cupped his face. "Thank you for coming back to me, my boy."
Sebastian's lips moved.
But no sound came out.
We all leaned in closer.
"What did you say?" His mother asked softly.
His voice finally came, low and confused.
"Who... are you?"
The smile on Mrs. Kingsley's face shattered instantly.
The door to the ward opened and the doctor walked in, Julian right behind him.
"Doctor..." Mrs. Kingsley rushed forward, her voice shaking. "He just asked who I am." Tears welled up in her eyes. "He doesn't recognize me. I'm his mother!"
The doctor lifted his hands gently, trying to calm her. "Please, don't panic." He said in a steady voice. "This can happen after a major surgery or head trauma. Sometimes patients wake up confused. It's not uncommon."
He turned his attention to Sebastian then, studying him carefully.
"Mr. Kingsley," the doctor called softly, "can you hear me?"
The room fell silent as everyone waited for his response.
"Yes." Sebastian answered.
The doctor nodded. "Good. Do you know where you are right now?"
Sebastian paused, his brows knitting together as if searching through a fog. After a moment, he spoke uncertainly. "A... hospital?"
"That's right." The doctor said encouragingly. Then he continued. "Do you recognize anyone in this room? Do any of these faces look familiar to you?"
My heart clenched. I instinctively took a step back, suddenly afraid of what he might say... or what he might not remember.
Sebastian's gaze slowly traveled around the room. First to his parents. Then to his sister. Then to Julian.
Finally, his eyes stopped on me.
They lingered.
Longer than I expected.
"My wife." He said quietly.
My breath hitched. That can't be...
"That's my wife." He repeated, his voice steadier now. "Selene."
The room went deathly silent.
And for the first time in three years...
Sebastian Kingsley looked at me like I mattered.
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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.