Chapter 1Childhood enemies to lovers to marriage—boom, four years in, my husband gets into a car accident and loses his memory.
Truth is he can only remember everything before we fell for each other.
Now—he wakes up, sees me, and immediately rolls his eyes.
"Ugh. You're here? Seriously?"
Before I can say anything, he spots my wedding ring.
"Wait—who's the poor bastard that married you? God please help him!"
Ugh... it's YOU.
...
I eye the bandage on his head.
Dude, if I said it loudly, you'd probably have a stroke.
"Don't worry about it. Wasn't you anyway."
"When'd you get married?"
"Four years ago."
He pauses. "What was I doing?"
I give him my sweetest smile. "You gave me a huge cash gift."
His eyes drop. "Yeah, right. No way."
For a second, he almost looks... sad? Weird.
Yeah, figures. Even with amnesia, this guy's impossible to fool.
Given our history, there's no universe where he'd give me a cash gift.
He probably would've laced every guest's dinner with laxatives just to turn my wedding into the biggest disaster of the century.
Watching him zone out like that, my hand moves before my brain can stop it.
I reach up and pinch his cheek.
"Come on. Let's go home."
"Home?" His eyes suddenly light up, like he's found some kind of lifeline.
My brain scrambles for an excuse.
"Yeah, so... your family went bankrupt. You know that? You're basically my servant now."
Caspian Quinn—Mr. Perfect himself—just completely loses it. Like, full-on shattered.
I almost lose it right there.
Make up some excuse about needing to handle discharge paperwork and lock myself in the bathroom, shoulders shaking with laughter.
Once I pull myself together, I call our housekeepers, then his parents.
Time to commit to the bit.
The story?
To keep Caspian relaxed while he recovers at our place, everyone needs to play along. Keep him from stressing about work.
So when he's in the car, clinging to that last shred of hope, and calls his parents to fact-check—
The answer he gets is:
"Son, we really did go bankrupt."
He lowers his phone. His eyes are glassy.
The golden boy, the untouchable heir—now actually broke guy!
After a long silence, his voice comes out barely above a whisper:
"So... what do I do at your place... as your... servant?"
"Oh, tons of stuff. Laundry, cooking, coffee... oh, and washing my feet."
He turns toward the window. His sharp profile looks almost fragile under all that defeat.
Anyone would look at him and think, Poor guy. Heartbreaking.
Meanwhile, I'm internally losing it. But I have to keep a straight face.
Because normally? Caspian Quinn is the most arrogant, untouchable guy you'll ever meet.
His whole life has been golden. Born lucky, blessed by the universe, living like he's got plot armor.
I once said the only time I'd ever see Caspian Quinn tear up over me would be at my funeral.
When he heard that?
He actually burst out laughing:
"Give yourself too much credit. I'd just show up and set off fireworks!"
So seeing him this vulnerable? Chef's kiss.
I hold in my laughter the whole ride home.
Chapter 2
Once we're back, I head straight to the study to deal with a pile of paperwork.
When I finally return to my room, I freeze.
Caspian Quinn is standing in the middle of it.
In front of him: a basin of water. For washing feet.
He's just standing there, staring blankly, holding something in his hand.
Oh shit.
It's his pajamas.
And let me tell you, this man is loyal to his clothes.
He's been wearing the same set since before our marriage.
He turns and looks at me, confusion flickering in his eyes.
"You said you're married. So why's my stuff in your room?"
I walk up to him, grab his collar, and pull him close.
His ears turn red. Looks away, flustered. "What... what're you doing?"
I drag my fingers across his chest, slow.
"After I got married, my husband's been overseas."
"You know how it is. Late nights get lonely. Girl's got needs..."
He stares at me, stunned. "So... I'm your side piece?"
"Or maybe... your boy toy?"
I open my mouth to reply, but before I can—I catch the look in his eyes. Dim. Hurt.
His voice comes out flat. "A toy... yeah. That works."
He looks so sad. So small.
And for a second, I think, Did I take this too far?
This is Caspian Quinn we're talking about. The proudest guy I know!
He wakes up one day and finds out he's a servant and a side piece? That's gotta sting.
But then, in the next heartbeat—
He pulls me into his arms. Hard. Desperate.
And kisses me like he's got nothing left to lose.
Even with the memory loss, he hasn't lost his touch.
He was in the hospital for two weeks. That's two weeks I went without.
So when he kisses me like that? It's game over.
We end up tangled in the sheets before I even know what's happening.
He's rougher than usual. I had to beg him to slow down.
In the dim light, his eyes look almost wild. Desperate.
"You like this?" He bites my earlobe, voice low and harsh.
"Yeah... just—easy..."
"Me or your husband—who's better?"
"..."
"Answer me."
"Ah—" He bites my neck, moving faster, harder, demanding a response.
I can barely think straight.
How am I supposed to answer that, dude?!
"Why him... Why not me..."
Right before I drift off, I feel arms tighten around me.
And like muscle memory, I turn and burrow into his chest.
I nuzzle his jaw, mumbling, "...honey..."
Next second, the body I'm holding goes completely still.
The next morning, I reach for him out of habit.
But all I feel is cold sheets.
I jolt awake and scramble out of bed.
Don't relax until I see him downstairs, moving around the kitchen.
Habits really are terrifying.
When I sit down at the table, Caspian and the other staff in our house are all standing to the side.
I reach out and tug his arm.
"Hey, sit down. You starving after last night?"
Teasing him comes way too easily now.
He hesitates, then sits. Halfway through breakfast, he asks, voice careful:
"Your husband..."
"Is it Sawyer Calloway?"
I almost spit out my milk.
But I manage to hold it in.
Seeing him this rattled, this lost—yeah, Sawyer definitely left a mark on him.
Chapter 3
To be fair, Sawyer was my first love.
In college, he was one of the upperclassmen helping with freshman orientation.
But he was nothing like Caspian.
Caspian was the kid everyone's parents compared me to growing up.
We got into a fight during pretend play as kids—over who got to be the mom—and that was it. Lifelong enemies.
But our lives kept overlapping. Same schools. Same activities. Always competing.
I learned piano. His family bought a Steinway.
I took up painting. He started sketching.
I said I wanted to go to University A. He said he'd get into University B.
In the end, he scored thirty points higher than me on the SATs—and we ended up at the same school anyway.
I said he was cursed to haunt me.
He said we were just destined to clash.
"Witch!"
"Jerk!"
After that exchange, we head off in opposite directions.
I got lost in the crowd pretty quick.
When I turned around, though, Caspian stood out like a sore thumb—tall, gorgeous, impossible to miss.
I opened my mouth to call out to him.
But some girl with a red face ran up and nervously asked for his number.
He looked down at her, sunlight catching in his eyes, turning them gold.
I swallowed my words and turned away. Never found out if he gave her his number or not.
That's when I met Sawyer Calloway.
He smiled at me, warm and easy. "Hey, what's your major? Which dorm you in?"
He was EVERYTHING Caspian wasn't.
The confession happened during a club outing.
That day, we went to an amusement park.
I challenged him to an archery contest—winner got a stuffed animal.
I told him there was no way he'd win more than me.
Maybe the sun set, he just looked softer. Gentler. The breeze ruffled his hair. He smiled.
"Course you'll win."
"I'm giving all my prizes to you anyway."
I froze.
So this is what it felt like—someone letting you win just because you wanted to.
That night, I confessed.
And he said yes.
Truth is Sawyer was really a great boyfriend.
He'd bring me breakfast. Bring me flowers on every date.
Even when he was buried in lab work, he'd make time to surprise me.
If it weren't for what happened later...
Maybe Caspian and I never would've ended up together.
I glance at him now, sitting beside me.
My silence is answer enough.
Caspian lowers his head, murmurs, "Emm... Got it."
I'm used to seeing him confident. Untouchable. Cocky.
But this? This kicked-puppy look? It's getting to me.
"Actually, you—"
"I know..."
"I'm just the side piece. Don't get to ask questions."
He tilts his head back dramatically, staring at the ceiling like some tragic hero.
