I never planned to build a life with Hannah. In my mind, we were two apex predators trapped in the same cage—circling, snapping, tearing at each other. That friction was normal. Affection was not.

So when I woke with my memories reset to ten years ago—back to pure, unadulterated loathing—and discovered she'd taken a lover, I didn't feel betrayed. I felt relieved.

"I'm filing for divorce," I told my friend later that day.

"Divorce?" He stared at me like I'd grown a second head. "You? You're obsessed with her. You love her down to the bone. There's no way you'd walk away."

His certainty baffled me. According to him, Hannah treated me like a king. But I wasn't the type to be swayed by domestic servitude or superficial kindness.

There has to be a catch, I thought. Or a trap.

The next morning, I wasted no time. I drafted the divorce agreement and tossed it onto the breakfast table.

Hannah looked terrible. Dark circles bruised the skin under her eyes, her complexion sallow. She stared at the papers, jaw tightening. "I brought him home for one night, and you're already trying to divorce me?"

I looked up from my coffee, genuinely surprised. "You two were loud enough to wake the dead last night. Clearly, you enjoy each other's company. I'm just granting your wish."

My compliance only seemed to infuriate her further. She snatched the document, shredded it into confetti, and slammed me against the doorframe. Her fingers dug into my wrist with desperate, painful strength.

"Get this through your head," she hissed, her face inches from mine. "Between us, there is only widowhood. I will never be a divorcée."

I slapped her. A sharp, reflexive strike to snap her out of her hysteria. "You're delusional."

"Morning."

Dominic sauntered out of the master bedroom wearing Hannah's silk bathrobe, the belt tied loosely. His neck was a canvas of fresh, violent love bites.

"Bit stifling in here." He tugged the collar open, exposing a chest mottled with even more red marks.

He smirked, waiting for my face to crumble in jealousy or rage.

Instead, I walked over, grabbed the lapels of the robe, and yanked them shut.

"Cover up," I said flatly. "Your pecs are non-existent. Flaunt that scrawny chest and people will think we're starving you."

Dominic's smirk vanished, replaced by a flush of humiliation. He shot a wounded glance at Hannah.

She grabbed my arm immediately. "Apologize to him."

I shrugged. I'd only spoken the truth, but arguing with a cheater and her pet was beneath me. "Fine. Consider this my apology gift—take whatever you want from the house." I waved vaguely at the living room. "Pick something and get out of my sight."

Dominic's eyes narrowed. He scanned the room, then pointed at the glass display case.

"I want that."

The cabinet held limited-edition watches and heirlooms worth millions. Yet his finger hovered precisely over the platinum wedding band—the match to Hannah's.

She froze. Her breath hitched.

The Housekeeper, who'd been silently dusting, couldn't stay quiet. "Sir... that's the Young Master's wedding ring. It's precious. Perhaps Mr. Sullivan should choose something else."

I walked over, unlocked the cabinet, and pulled the ring out.

"It's fine. Take it."

To my amnesiac mind, the ring looked vaguely familiar, but it held no weight. Just a circle of metal. I had drawers full of jewelry; I wouldn't miss this one.

I tossed it through the air. Dominic caught it with a greedy grin.

Hannah stared at me, eyes wide with disbelief, as if I'd committed a capital crime. "You... you're just giving it away? Just like that?"

I blinked, confused by her intensity. "Why? Is it worth a lot?"

She searched my eyes for any sign of a lie, any flicker of pain. Finding none, she gritted her teeth. "Of course not."

She snatched the ring from Dominic's hand and slid it onto his finger herself, interlocking their fingers. "Wear it properly," she commanded, though her voice trembled.

She turned to leave, dragging him with her.

"Madam," the Housekeeper called out desperately. "Today is the Young Master's birthday."

Hannah stopped dead. I paused too. My birthday?

Dominic immediately slumped his shoulders, putting on a masterful display of grievance. "You should stay, Hannah. Accompany your husband for his birthday. I know we've been planning this cruise for months, but... I'm not important. I can go alone."

Hannah looked between us. Guilt warred with pride in her eyes. Finally, she hardened her expression.

"Dominic has been looking forward to this trip for a long time," she said coldly, refusing to meet my gaze. "We've spent plenty of birthdays together, Joel. We're not short on time. Don't be petty."

I nodded, unbothered. "Have fun."

She frowned. My indifference clearly unsettled her—she sensed something was wrong. But before she could analyze it, Dominic tugged her hand, pulling her out the door.

Once silence returned, I picked up my phone and dialed my friend.

"Forget the divorce paperwork for now," I said, all business. "I need a full audit of my assets. Walk me through every company I own."

Ten years ago, I was a man consumed by ambition. Compared to a woman with a wandering heart, I was far more interested in the cold, reliable comfort of gold and silver.

Satisfaction only settled in after I confirmed I still held significant assets. Dragging a plaster-heavy left leg and a right arm encased in a cast, I hobbled out the door, intent on inspecting my domain.

But peace was a luxury I apparently couldn't afford.

Hannah's call came through, her voice cutting like a serrated blade, skipping all pleasantries. "What did you do to Dominic? I'm warning you, Joel—if anything happens to him, I will destroy you."

I frowned, genuinely confused. "I'm at the company drinking coffee. You're the one who took him on a cruise. If your pet is missing, shouldn't you look in the mirror before interrogating me?"

Her tone dropped, gloomier than the ocean depths. "Don't play dumb. Even if Mr. Swanson isn't physically present, he has a hundred ways to orchestrate a murder, doesn't he?"

Before I could retort, the office door crashed open. Thugs stormed in, and before I could raise my good arm, a burlap sack was shoved over my head. Darkness swallowed me as they hauled me away.

When the hood was finally ripped off, salty sea breeze stung my face. I was on the cruise ship deck.

Dominic lay collapsed against Hannah, his skin marred with bruises, playing the fragile survivor to perfection.

"Hannah, I was terrified," he whimpered, burying his face in her neck. "They tied my hands and feet... attached weights... just threw me overboard. If you hadn't come back for me, I'd be dead."

I pieced it together quickly. He'd been "kidnapped" and thrown into the sea, only for Hannah to rescue him just in time. Naturally, I was the designated villain in this little play.

"I already explained why I couldn't be there for your birthday," Hannah said, her voice trembling with suppressed rage as she looked at me. "Why couldn't you just let him be? He's never been on a cruise before. He's been looking forward to this since we were children."

She glared at me, her gaze a turbulent mix of disappointment and fury.

I met her stare head-on. "It wasn't me. What evidence do you have?"

"If not you, who else?" She stepped closer, her presence suffocating. "We bought this ship together. Only you and I have the master keys. Are you suggesting Dominic opened the gates to his own murderers?"

I stared at her accusatory face. The logic was flawed, but her bias was absolute.

A cold, dark amusement bubbled up in my chest. If she wanted a monster, I'd give her one.

I laughed. "You're right. It was me."

The admission hung in the air, freezing both Hannah and Dominic in place.

"After all, I'm a jealous man," I drawled, leaning back against the railing despite my restraints. "It bothers me that he crawled into your bed. What if he gets ambitious and tries to replace me entirely? As long as I hold the title of your husband, he's fair game."

I let my gaze slide over Dominic's terrified face. My voice dropped, gentle yet laced with ice. "Consider this a warning. Next time, I won't rely on the ocean. I guarantee a single strike will be fatal."

Hannah's eyes widened. "You lunatic."

I sneered. "A cheap boy toy thinking he can ascend the throne just because he warmed your bed? I have plenty of methods left to dispose of trash. Just wait."

Hannah surged forward. Her hand cut through the air, connecting with my cheek in a vicious slap. The crack echoed across the deck. She grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at her. My face burned, but I didn't flinch.

Yes, I thought. This is how it should be between enemies.

She shoved a document against my chest. "Sign it."

A divorce agreement.

My brow arched. The woman who had declared just this morning that there was "only widowhood, no divorce" had certainly changed her tune.

I didn't hesitate. I signed my name with a flourish.

Yet as the pen lifted, a phantom pain struck my chest—a bitter, suffocating ache rising from somewhere deep. Muscle memory of love I no longer recalled.

The emotion flickered and died, replaced by relief.

Clutching the signed agreement, I turned to leave. But Hannah's hand clamped around my wrist.

"You think it's that easy?"

"We're divorced," I said flatly. "What more do you want?"

"Didn't you say you had plenty of methods left?" Her lips curved, but her eyes remained dead. "How about you try one of mine first?"

She turned to her men. "Throw him into the sea."

My blood ran cold. "Are you insane? With these casts, I'll sink like a stone."

She didn't answer. She simply walked into the cabin, ignoring my existence.

A curse died in my throat. My limbs were encased in plaster—swimming was impossible.

The guards grabbed me, binding my hands and feet. As if the casts weren't enough, they tied a heavy stone to my ankle.

Dominic approached slowly. The helplessness was gone from his face, replaced by a triumphant smirk. He leaned in close, his voice a poisonous whisper.

"Brother Joel, you've occupied the spot by Hannah's side for far too long. It's my turn now." He chuckled. "I was racking my brain trying to figure out how to get rid of you. Never expected you to deliver yourself right to my doorstep."

Then he shoved me.

"Do I have a grudge against you?"

He didn't answer. A brutal shove was his only reply.

Water surged into my mouth and nose, flooding my lungs. Salt stung the open wound on my arm like liquid fire. I thrashed against the current, but the rock dragged me down, anchoring me to the abyss. Darkness swallowed the light. Oxygen thinned to nothing.

As my consciousness frayed, a graceful silhouette cut through the gloom. In the dim underwater haze, soft, cold lips pressed against mine, breathing life back into my dying chest.