The day before our wedding, Jason Jagger died in a car accident.

Everyone thought I would lose it, that I would break down completely. But I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I didn’t beg the universe to bring him back.

Five years later, I ran into him at a hotel. Alive. Breathing. Smiling like nothing had ever happened.

Apparently, he had lost his memory. And apparently, that meant he could shamelessly kiss my stepsister in front of a crowd, letting them cheer him on like some kind of movie star.

Then he saw me. His smirk widened like he had just won some twisted game.

"So, you’re my fiancée, huh? Still waiting for me after all these years? Damn, you really are something. Can’t move on without me?"

He tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. "I know you’re obsessed with me. Since you’ve been so loyal, I guess I could keep you around.

“But listen up, Yolanda is the only one who gets to be Mrs. Jagger. I’ll spend Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays with her and I’ll see you on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. You can just... be grateful in silence."

The people around us laughed like it was the funniest thing they had ever heard. I laughed too. But for a very different reason.

"Sorry," I said, shaking my head. "I think you’ve got the wrong person."

Jason had no idea what really happened the night of his 'death.' He had no clue that while he and Yolanda were living it up for five years, I had moved on.

I had married someone else. And my husband? Well, he just so happened to be Jason’s uncle.

——

I didn’t expect to see Jason again, let alone like this.

He had one arm wrapped around Yolanda’s waist, his other hand lazily resting on her hip. The two of them were practically tangled together, making out like they were the only ones in the room.

The crowd cheered them on, some people whistling, others yelling things like, "Damn, get a room!"

A few minutes later, Yolanda pulled away, her cheeks flushed. She clung to Jason like her legs might give out. "Okay, okay, I admit defeat," she giggled. "You kiss me like that again and I’ll suffocate."

Jason smirked, fingers ghosting along her neck. "Oh? That was too much for you? Funny, didn’t seem like you had a problem with it last night."

The room erupted into laughter. Someone shouted, "Yo, Jason, it's been five years! You really just forgot about Whitney?"

Jason leaned back against the couch, completely unbothered. "Forgot her? Nah. I’m just not done having fun yet. Once the wedding is over, I’ll ‘recover’ my memory. That’s how it works, right?"

More laughter. More jokes.

"Everyone knows Whitney’s been in love with me forever," Jason added, grinning. "I bet the second she saw me alive, she wanted to fall to her knees and beg. Just like she did five years ago when she climbed nine thousand steps, praying for me to survive."

The room roared with amusement. The whole room erupted in laughter, loud enough to shake the damn walls.

"I swear, just picturing Whitney throwing herself at him cracks me up," someone cackled. "That level of shamelessness is unmatched. Not even a dog would be that loyal. I heard she had a rough time abroad these past five years. Without Jason, she could barely survive."

The laughter doubled, filling every corner of the room. I was ready to turn and leave, but before I could, someone spotted me. "Whitney!"

The guy who had been laughing the loudest just seconds ago suddenly looked awkward, scrambling for an excuse. "Jason’s alive. We, uh, didn’t tell you because… well, he lost his memory and had other women around. We figured you wouldn’t be able to handle it."

"Yeah, exactly," another one jumped in. "We all know Jason’s real favorite has always been you, but he doesn’t remember, so if you freak out now, he’ll just think you’re nuts."

Before I could respond, Jason let out a mocking laugh.

"So, you’re the fiancée who was supposedly madly in love with me?" He gave me a slow once-over, his expression twisting with amusement. "Damn. Without me, this is what you’ve been reduced to? You really can’t live without me, huh?"

Same old Jason; cocky, arrogant, acting like the center of the universe. Five years ago, just seeing him would’ve made my heart race. Now, looking at that self-satisfied smirk, all I felt was exhaustion. And disgust.

I had just landed and was still running on jet lag. The only reason I even came to this hotel was because my daughter loved the strawberry mousse here.

But Jason didn’t seem to care that I wasn’t reacting the way he expected. Instead, he smirked, pulled Yolanda close, and, right in front of me, kissed her deep and slow.

When they finally pulled apart, their lips were still wet, connected by a thin, glistening string. Jason turned back to me, looking proud of himself, like he had proven some kind of point.

I just blinked at him.

"Oh, stop it, you're so annoying," Yolanda giggled, nudging Jason. "My sister is watching."

I pressed my lips together, trying to ignore the wave of discomfort crawling up my spine. Jason saw my reaction, but as always, he completely misread it. His eyes flickered with amusement, like he was enjoying this way too much.

"What, you nervous?" he teased. "You’re gonna be my wife anyway. If she still wants to follow me around, she better learn to deal with it."

Then he turned to me, smirking like he was offering me some grand prize. "Since you’ve been so loyal, I’ll be generous. I’ll keep you around. Yolanda gets Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I’ll stop by on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. Sundays? You can come over and serve us."

The people around us burst into laughter, hyping him up like this was some kind of joke instead of the absolute garbage it was.

"See that, Whitney?" someone called out. "Jason lost his memory, but he still loves you enough to save three days a week just for you!"

"Yeah, don’t be stupid," another guy chimed in. "You’ve been a mess these past five years without him. Probably scrubbing toilets just to survive. Take the offer while you still can, if Jason changes his mind, you won’t even get the chance to beg for it later."

Yolanda tightened her grip on Jason’s arm, practically draping herself over him, then gave me this sickeningly sweet smile. "Whitney, I don’t want to do this either, but what can I do? Jason only loves me now. Guess you’ll just have to settle for being the woman in the shadows."

Jason let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Please. She wouldn’t survive without me."

Something sharp twisted in my chest.

Five years ago, in that car accident, Jason had thrown himself over me, shielding me with his own body. He had been barely conscious, his fingers squeezing mine as he whispered over and over, "Don’t be scared. I have luck on my side, I won’t die. I’ll always be your guardian angel. No one will ever hurt you."

Could someone who had once loved me so deeply really change this much? Could amnesia turn him into... this?

I swallowed down the bitterness rising in my throat, took a deep breath and forced a smile.

"Sorry," I said, my voice calm. " I think you’ve got the wrong person."

Then, without breaking eye contact, I lifted my hand, flashing the ring on my finger. "Besides, I’m already married."

For a second, the whole room went silent. Then laughter erupted, loud and mocking.

Jason raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Married? To who? A garbage man? A street sweeper?" He scoffed. "Come on, Whitney. Do you actually think I’d be jealous? Do you hear yourself?"

Before I could react, his hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. Then, with one quick pull, he yanked the ring right off my finger.

I winced as Jason yanked the ring off my finger, the sting shooting up my wrist. I was about to say something when Yolanda suddenly burst out laughing.

"Jason, isn't this the 'Only Love in This Life' ring?" she grinned, eyes sparkling with amusement. "The one your uncle bought in Atessa for 600 million dollars five years ago?"

She turned to me, tilting her head like she had just caught me in some elaborate lie. "Whitney, don't tell me you're about to claim that you married his uncle and became his aunt?"

The second those words left her mouth, the entire room exploded into laughter.

"You've gotta be kidding me," someone scoffed. "Whitney, seriously? You expect us to believe you're the wife Colton has been hiding all these years?"

Colton Jagger. Jason’s uncle. The man who ran the entire Jagger Family. He was only five years older than Jason, but people spoke about him with nothing but respect.

Not only was he insanely rich and stupidly good-looking, but he was also known for being completely devoted to his wife. Five years of marriage and no one had even seen her or their daughter. He kept them out of the public eye, far away from any scrutiny.

"Whitney, you really wanna keep up this little fantasy?" A guy picked up the ring, turning it between his fingers. "Gotta say, it’s a damn good fake. Must’ve cost a fortune. You really went all out trying to impress Jason, huh?"

More laughter. More taunts. The room felt suffocating. I exhaled slowly, keeping my voice steady. "I didn't fake it. This ring is real—"

Before I could finish, a hand flew across my face.

The slap was so sudden, so forceful, that my head snapped to the side. A sharp, burning pain spread across my cheek and for a second, my ears rang.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Jason’s voice was full of rage, his jaw clenched tight. "Why the fuck would you bring my uncle into this?"

His words were rapid, heated, filled with pure disgust.

"Everyone knows my uncle worships the ground his wife walks on. You really think he’d take one look at you—a used-up, second-hand reject I didn’t even want—and think, 'Yeah, that’s the one'?" He scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Even if you don’t have a damn mirror, at least know your damn place," he sneered. "I can't stand women like you. Jealous, desperate, lying through your teeth just to get attention."

His lip curled as he looked me up and down, like he couldn’t believe he had ever been with me. "I must’ve been fucking blind to ever want you."

I pressed a hand to my burning cheek, slowly turning my head. My face stung, but I didn’t react. I didn’t cry, didn’t flinch.

Jason, however, looked away. Just for a second. Like he had seen something in my expression that made him uncomfortable.

But Yolanda wasn’t about to let it go.

"Whitney," she scoffed, crossing her arms. "Jason lost his memory and he’s still willing to let you be his mistress. You should be grateful. But instead, you're trying to ruin him?

“You know how much Connor loves his wife and yet you have the nerve to pretend to be Jason’s aunt? You’re literally dragging him down with you. You’re selfish and cruel!"

Her words barely registered. Yolanda had been ruining my life for as long as I could remember.

She was my stepfather’s daughter. On the seventh day after my father died, while we were still mourning in the funeral hall, my mother grabbed me by the back of the head and forced me to bow, forcing me to accept Yolanda as my ‘sister.’

She was like a ghost, always lurking, always watching, never allowing me to have anything for myself.

If she could take something from me, she did. If she couldn’t, she made sure no one else could have it either.

Five years ago, Jason had been my shield, standing in front of me like some untouchable force. Back then, he had looked at her with nothing but cold disdain, shutting her down without hesitation.

Now?

Now, he stood in front of her, throwing a thick stack of cash at my feet. "Isn’t this what you wanted?" His voice was slow, mocking. "Go ahead. Pick it up."

The edges of the bills were sharp, one of them catching my forehead as it fluttered down. A thin line of blood appeared just above my brow.

I didn’t wipe it away. But I did notice the flicker of hesitation in Jason’s eyes. Then, as if realizing he had slipped, he covered it up with a smirk.

I bent down. He let out a breath, laughing. "There we go. Knew you’d cave. A dog should act like a dog—"

I ignored him. I wasn’t reaching for the money. I was picking up the ring that had been thrown into the corner, half-buried under the scattered cash.

When I straightened, Jason’s smirk was gone. His expression darkened, his fingers twitching at his sides.

For the first time that night, he looked… uneasy. Before I could step away, he grabbed my wrist, his grip tight and almost desperate.

"You really won’t let it go, will you?" His voice was low, his teeth clenched. "What, the money on the floor isn’t enough? You still need to hold onto a fake, broken ring?"

I frowned, confused. "Let go."

He didn’t. His grip only tightened. His jaw flexed like he was struggling to hold something back.

"You really don’t get it, do you?" His voice dropped, frustration bleeding into his tone. "Fine. Yolanda and I are getting married in a week. My uncle’s coming home that day too.

"Why don’t you show up?" He leaned in, his voice laced with something sharp. "You can watch the wedding and while you’re at it, let my uncle see for himself what kind of pathetic, shameless garbage I threw away."

When Yolanda heard the word wedding, her whole face lit up. She could barely hide her excitement.

"Whitney, what’s wrong?" she teased, tilting her head. "You’re not scared to come, are you? Afraid of getting exposed?"

I carefully put the ring away, not bothering to look at her as I replied, voice flat. "Alright, I’ll go. Just don’t regret it later."

Then I walked out.

I stopped just outside the door, lingering for a moment. Maybe I just needed a second to breathe. Maybe I was waiting to hear what they would say once they thought I was gone.

Jason’s friend sighed. "Dude, you sure you didn’t take it too far? I don’t know, something about Whitney seemed… off. What if she actually got married?"

Jason let out a sharp laugh. "Yeah, right. She’s just putting on an act."

His tone was full of confidence, like the thought of me moving on was so impossible that it wasn’t even worth considering. "She’s just playing hard to get. Trust me, I know her. This is her way of trying to get my attention."

But after a beat, he went quiet, probably thinking back to the way I had looked at him before I left. How calm I had been. How… unbothered.

Something about it must’ve unsettled him because when he spoke again, his voice had a slight edge.

"Whatever," he muttered. "I’m done playing anyway. After the wedding, I’ll 'get my memory back,' throw in some sad apologies, tell her she’s the only one I ever loved. Watch, she’ll be back at my feet in no time."

The group laughed, shaking their heads.

"Damn, Jason," one of them snickered. "You really got this whole thing figured out, huh?"

Jason grinned, stretching out like he had all the time in the world. "What can I say? One little case of amnesia and I got to live it up for five years. Meanwhile, Whitney spent those five years waiting for me, miserable and alone. No other man. No second chances. Just me."

Yolanda pouted, resting her head on his shoulder. "But Jason, if you get your memory back, what happens to me?"

Jason laughed, pinching her waist. "Relax. It’ll be the same as before. And besides…" He smirked. "Sneaking around is way more fun."

More laughter. More voices blending together in amusement. I didn’t stick around to hear the rest.

I turned and walked straight to the hotel entrance, my chest tight. The second I stepped outside, I took a deep breath, then another, trying to swallow the nausea creeping up my throat.

Jason had no idea. Five years ago, on the night he was supposedly killed in a car accident, I received a video. One I could never forget.

I pulled out my phone, tapped the screen and his voice filled my ears, light, amused, like he was talking about the weather.

"I love Whitney, but man, she’s just so dull. The thought of only having her for the rest of my life? Boring as hell.

"I’ll fake my death, disappear for a few years. When I come back, I’ll say I lost my memory. Oh, and make sure you get plenty of footage of her losing it over me. I can’t wait to see her completely fall apart."