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 5
SELENE
Even though my heart was pounding wildly, I turned slowly to face him. He stood so close that I could feel his warmth, and what unsettled me most wasn't just the distance between us, it was the way he was looking at me.
Softly. Tenderly.
So different from the cold, indifferent stares he used to give me.
This was not the Sebastian I knew.
This man, standing inches away, smiling like my presence actually mattered, calling me his wife as if the word carried weight felt like a stranger wearing my husband's face. And somehow, that hurt more than his cruelty ever did.
A quiet sigh escaped my lips as I looked away.
I did not dare wish he would stay like this. Hope had already betrayed me once.
"Excuse me." I whispered and tried to step past him.
But he moved, blocking my path with his broad frame.
My eyes dropped before I could stop them to his bare chest, firm and defined, my gaze trailing down to his abs. Heat rushed to my cheeks and I quickly looked away, cursing myself.
I tried to move again.
And again, he blocked me.
Trapping me there.
He took another step toward me, and instinctively I moved back until the edge of the bed pressed against me, leaving me with nowhere else to retreat.
"You are.. my wife, right?" He asked softly, his voice dropping as though we were sharing a secret meant for only the two of us.
My eyes widened, my lips parted, but no words came out. I just stared at him, frozen between disbelief and fear.
He seemed to take my silence as permission. "Then..." he continued gently, "I should be able to hold you... to talk to you."
There was a brief hesitation, like he was afraid I would disappear if he moved too fast. Slowly, carefully, he lifted his hand and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. My body betrayed me and I almost flinched at his touch. The contact felt too unfamiliar, yet too intimate.
"But you keep trying to escape me." He murmured, a small, almost playful smile tugging at his lips. "Am I really that scary?"
I shook my head quickly, my gaze dropping to the floor. "No... you're not."
He reached out and gently lifted my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Then stay." He said, his tone suddenly serious. "I like it when you're close."
Something inside me cracked.
I didn't know what made my eyes sting. Maybe it was the way he said it so sincerely, or maybe it was because those same lips had once told me to keep my distance. To stay away. To not mistake obligation for affection. And now, they were saying the opposite, like the past never existed.
His smile slowly faded as he studied my face. "Why do you look like you're about to cry?" He asked softly. "Did I say something wrong?"
"No... no." I hurried to say, wiping at my eyes before the tears could betray me. "I'm just..." My voice wavered. "I'm just happy you're back. Alive." I lied.
Sebastian watched me quietly for a moment, then sighed. "I'm sorry." He said suddenly.
I blinked. "For what?"
"For making you worry." He added, his voice softer. "They told me you've been here since last night. You must have been scared." His brows pulled together. "I don't like the thought of you crying because of me."
My heart stumbled at his words. This was the same man who once ignored my tears like they meant nothing.
"It's... it's fine." I whispered. "What matters is that you're okay."
He nodded, then closed the small distance between us. My breath hitched as he leaned down, his face only inches from mine. My heart slammed against my ribs. Is he about to-
I closed my eyes without meaning to, bracing myself.
But instead of his lips, I felt only air.
Confused, I opened my eyes to see him reaching past me, grabbing the shirt he'd left on the bed. My face burned as I turned away. How could I have thought he wanted to kiss me? I prayed he hadn't noticed me closing my eyes.
"Can you help me?" He asked instead. "My head still feels heavy."
"Oh." I hesitated, then stepped forward, helping him slide his arm into the sleeve. The closeness made my breathing uneven, my heart racing for reasons I couldn't explain.
I needed to get away from him, before I completely lost my senses.
He smiled like it was normal for us to be this close. "You always help me dress, don't you?" He said casually.
"Huh?" I blinked, quickly looking away. I never did. Not once. "Sebastian..."
"I remember," he continued, his voice thoughtful, almost dreamy. "You looked so beautiful in your wedding dress. And I was holding a ring box... smiling like I was genuinely happy."
A ring box?
Happy?
That memory didn't belong to us. Not to the truth I knew.
"We must have been so in love, right, Selene?" He asked softly.
I looked up at him, caught by the hope in his eyes. He was searching my face, waiting for me to confirm it, like he needed me to tell him he wasn't crazy, that what he felt wasn't just a broken memory playing tricks on him.
But he was wrong.
We were never a loving couple.
I should tell him.
I should be honest.
I should stop this before it goes any further-
Yet... my heart betrayed me.
After everything, after all the pain, a small part of me still clung to him. Maybe fate was giving me another chance. A chance I had prayed for in silence. A chance to finally be loved by him.
So I held onto it like a lifeline.
"Yes." I whispered, meeting his gaze. "We were so in love... and we still are."
The lie tasted bitter and sweet at the same time.
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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.