Amnesia Novels

On the night of our luxurious Las Vegas honeymoon, I thought I was the happiest bride alive. Then his phone lit up with a text from a woman named Jessica. "Last night was incredible, Alex. I'm so proud of you for finally getting rid of her." I dug into his phone and discovered they had been together for months, and his mother had been helping them hide it. Less than 72 hours after our wedding, Alex staged a minor car crash and faked amnesia. Lying in the hospital bed with Jessica holding his hand, he looked right at me. "I'm sorry... who are you? Do I know you?" His family used this pathetic farce to frame me as the villain, driving me out of the hospital. By the time I got back to San Francisco, they had changed the locks and dumped my belongings on the street like garbage. I had poured my heart into building a perfect life with him, only to realize I was just a pawn in their cruel, collective joke. The betrayal and public humiliation were suffocating. But I didn't give them the satisfaction of a hysterical scene. I gathered my evidence and filed for an annulment, legally erasing our marriage as if it never happened. Then, I adopted a pseudonym and became the city's most powerful event planner. When Alex was forced to hire me to plan his new wedding with Jessica, I smiled and took the contract.

My wedding was perfect. Every rose. Every note of music. Every lie. I married Alessandro Moretti believing I was the heroine of a love story. The heir to the most feared family on the West Coast had chosen me—a wedding planner from nowhere—over duty, over blood, over the Rossetti princess his mother had already picked for him. I thought that meant he loved me. I was wrong. The text came through on our wedding night. From her. Gianna Rossetti. "Now that the wedding's over, when do I finally get you to myself?" Three days later, Alex looked me in the eye from a hospital bed and asked, "I'm sorry... who are you?" Fake amnesia. A staged accident. His mother, his mistress, and the family doctor—all in on it. They wanted me to walk away quietly. What I didn't know then was that walking away quietly was the kindest option on the table. The other one involved a car accident on a winding road and a funeral no one would question. Then Don Moretti's man handed me an envelope of cash on the sidewalk outside the apartment I no longer had a key to. "Start over somewhere comfortable," he said. "Far from San Francisco." I took the money. I didn't leave. I'm going to plan their wedding now. Gianna and Alex. The princess and the heir. And when I'm done, every chandelier, every centerpiece, every last napkin will be a monument to the worst mistake the Moretti family ever made. They thought they were giving me an exit. I'm building them a cage.

I woke up in the hospital with severe amnesia, completely forgetting my boyfriend of three years, Ethan Cole. My best friend told me he was a toxic billionaire who treated me like a pathetic doormat, constantly humiliating me while obsessing over his ex-girlfriend. Realizing the memory loss was a gift, I blocked his number, walked away from his empire, and built my own successful baking brand from scratch. I even met Noah, a powerful man who truly cherished me. Ethan tried to buy my submission with a ten-million-dollar check, but I returned it unopened. Enraged, his new girlfriend stole my life's work and launched a vicious smear campaign to destroy my reputation. Worse, a sudden fainting spell revealed a devastating truth. I was eight weeks pregnant with Ethan's child from before the accident. When Ethan found out, he burst into my hospital room like a madman. He threw punches at Noah and roared at me. "She is my woman! And that is my child!" Looking at his furious, possessive face, I felt no love, only profound disgust. He thought he could treat me like disposable garbage, erase my identity, and then violently claim the one good thing that came from the wreckage. "Get out," I said calmly, pointing at the door. "My child has nothing to do with you."

One phone call shattered a seven-year-long dream of love. Holden Campbell believed his fiancée Avery's amnesia was a wound that needed patient healing. He used all his connections, booking appointments with the best neurologists on the East Coast, convinced that science and love could bring back the woman who had accepted his proposal. However, an overheard phone call plunged him into despair—Avery had never suffered from amnesia. She had simply grown tired of their "suffocatingly perfect life," using "selective amnesia" as a costless vacation, and he was nothing more than a toy she could put back on the shelf at any time. When betrayal transformed from suspicion into irrefutable evidence, when his lover's laughter became the sharpest blade, Holden didn't break down, didn't confront her. He simply picked up his phone and dialed a lawyer's number: "I need to change my name. And, liquidate everything I own." A meticulously planned disappearance began. Behind him, the woman who thought she was in control remained unaware—her puppet had cut all its strings, and the script she had crafted was about to lose its only leading man.

The day before our divorce was finalized, my husband, Jensen, got drunk, fell, and hit his head. He woke up with amnesia. The doctor said he only remembered the past five years. Looking at the man whose eyes were full of nothing but me, I just felt... empty. Five years ago, Jensen would have died for me.

1 After the car accident, I decided to play a little prank on my husband and son. I pretended to have amnesia. ... “Who are you?” I asked, feigning confusion. A flicker of mischief crossed my son, Alex’s, face. He led the woman standing outside the hospital room to my bedside. “Mom, these are just some people from church, here to see how you’re doing,” he said, the little stinker. My husband, Mark, stood silently by, not correcting him. Not a peep. “We’re so sorry to hear about your accid

1. The day he proposed for the twenty-third time was the day my fiancé “forgot” me. I’m not being dramatic. It was real. “Selective amnesia,” Dr. Patterson said, avoiding my eyes. “He remembers everyone. Except you.” I stood outside Alex’s hospital room, a blizzard raging in my chest. The ultrasound photo in my hand―the one I was going to give him tonight―burned like a hot coal. The door was ajar. I could hear her laughter from inside. Hannah, his so-called “childhood sweetheart.” “Gently,

At my son’s birthday party. To ease the awkwardness of arriving late straight from the hospital, I pretended to have amnesia. “Why are you all in my house?” The moment my son realized what I said, he immediately stepped in front of the refined, gentle man beside him, claiming I had entered the wrong house. “This is the home I share with my mom and dad. Get lost!” Meanwhile, my wife, watching this whole farce from the second-floor balcony, chose to act deaf and blind. 1. “This is the home

1. Five years as Damian's fated mate. Five years. And then he got himself wounded on a hunt. They said the toxin destroyed his memory. He forgot everything about me. But he remembered Clara with perfect clarity. The girl who grew up beside him in the pack. The girl everyone assumed he would marry. He threw me out of the Alpha's residence for her. Then he poured the poison down my throat with his own hands. Silver powder and wolfsbane. The two oldest, cruelest recipes there are. It burned th

Chapter 1 On the night of my birthday, the college girl my husband was keeping sent me a photo. In the picture, she was lying topless in his arms. The flush on her face hadn't even faded yet. "He loves me. Why do you insist on holding on? " I looked at the photo and forwarded it to my husband without any expression. "Is this what you wanted? " "Fine. I'll make it happen for both of you. " He forgot that our engagement was something he had begged for, over and over again. Since he wants f

1 The day my fiancée faked amnesia, she dragged me to City Hall and turned our brand-new marriage certificate into a divorce decree. Two days later, the wedding I'd meticulously planned went off without a hitch. The bride was still her, but the groom was her on-again, off-again ex. The next time I saw her, eyes red-rimmed, she grabbed my arm. "Jake, where have you been? Why haven't you called?" I gave her a blank stare, like she was a complete stranger. "Excuse me, do I know you?" ... "Ja

After six years of failed fertility treatments, my fiancé Blake and I were finally expecting our miracle child. Our shared dream, the one that had held us together through years of heartache, was finally coming true. But then I discovered he was faking amnesia to cheat on me. Heartbroken, I went to the hospital to end the pregnancy we had so desperately wanted. As I lay recovering, his mistress was rushed into the ER, bleeding out. She needed my rare blood type to survive. Blake found me, held me down, and forcibly drew my blood to save her. He called me selfish for hesitating, twisting my pain into a weapon against me. "This is why I don't love you, Eliza," he sneered. "This cold, selfish streak." That was the moment the woman he knew died. Weeks later, at his live-streamed wedding where he begged for my return, I sent him a package. Inside was the aborted embryo of the child he denied, and a recording of him confessing everything.

I crash-landed on an alien planet where females are so rare they are treated as state property and biological remedies for violent male Alphas. When the medical scanner registered my human DNA as a "null" signal, I knew I was destined for the dissection table at a secret research institute. To survive, I faked severe amnesia and played the fragile, helpless girl to win the protection of the two powerful generals who found me. It worked too well. The Montgomery twins, Flynn and Enzo, became terrifyingly obsessed, turning my luxury villa into a heavily guarded fortress. But their possessiveness brought deadly consequences. Their aristocratic mother, furious that I was ruining their political marriage prospects with a royal princess, issued a chilling ultimatum. "If you will not remove this obstacle yourselves, then I will have it cleaned up." To protect me, the twins violently rebelled against their own blood, shattering their family legacy and bringing us to the brink of an all-out war. I watched them hide the shattered glass from their fight and lie to me with warm smiles, treating me like a delicate pet that needed constant shielding. But I wasn't just a prize to be fought over, nor a fragile doll waiting for men to solve my problems. I wiped the baking flour off my hands and looked at the darkening sky. If I wanted to survive the coming storm, I couldn't rely on their strength anymore. It was time to find my own.

"Spread your legs," the cold, handsome doctor ordered. To escape her ex-boyfriend's wedding invitation , Alana Martin attended an elite gala, wore a borrowed gown , and ended up spending a wild night with a dangerously handsome stranger. Panicked, she fled the next morning -only to end up in the hospital days later with severe inflammation. But when the curtain pulled back, the "doctor" examining her intimate areas was the exact same man from that night! Worse? He was looking at her with a wicked smirk, "You stole my first night, ignored my note , and now you're playing the amnesia game? I'm the victim here, little lady. Take responsibility."

Seraphina gave up her promising career to be the secret, devoted lover of Ethan, the billionaire Beaumont heir. When he woke up from a terrible car crash, he looked at her with empty eyes and claimed he had retrograde amnesia, forgetting her completely. But just hours later, she caught him laughing on the phone with a famous socialite. "Of course. Hook, line, and sinker. It's the perfect excuse, isn't it? A clean break. I can finally be done with her." He systematically erased her from his life, letting his new lover throw away her precious keepsakes and trying to buy her silence with a severance package. He publicly humiliated her in front of his wealthy friends, smashing her phone to destroy the last four years of their memories. When she still refused to break down and beg, his new girlfriend hired street thugs to corner her in a dark alley, intending to drug and ruin her forever. Four years of unconditional love were treated like disposable trash. Seraphina couldn't understand how the man who once held her so tenderly could watch from his luxury car as she was attacked in the street, driving away without a second glance. But she didn't shed a single tear. She calmly demanded exact change for her broken phone, walked out of his life, and took her career back. And as she fought for her life in that alley, the man who stepped out of the shadows to ruthlessly crush her attackers wasn't Ethan. It was Julian Beaumont—the most powerful, terrifying man in his family.

"Run from me again, Elena, and I'll make this penthouse your permanent golden cage." Waking up with absolute amnesia, Elena is trapped by Julian Vance, a ruthless billionaire tycoon who claims to be her husband. For months, he treats her with ice-cold cruelty, enforcing a strict high-tech lockdown. Elena fights his tyranny with fierce, unfiltered defiance, entirely unaware of the agonizing truth: Julian is breaking his own soul to play the villain because a deadly shadow is watching, and any sign of his obsessive affection will get her killed. But when a high-stakes crisis forces Julian to unleash his true, protective power, the glass palace shatters. Can Elena navigate a lethal web of high-society secrets and claim her throne beside her tyrant husband, or will the ghosts of her past destroy them first?

For three years, I was the backbone of the Iron Cross MC. I hand-built their custom fleet, tuned every engine with my bare hands, and spent a fortune from my private trust to keep my husband, Jarret, out of federal prison. My reward? Jarret rode back from the border with a pregnant roadside mistress on his fender, faking "amnesia" to strip my colors and steal my multimillion-dollar workshop for his unborn bastard. I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I walked straight into my shop and yanked the master breaker, plunging the entire compound into pitch-black desert heat. Overnight, I called in a military convoy and stripped the garage down to bare concrete—leaving those ungrateful bastards with nothing but rotting meat, dry taps, and dead beer lines. When I returned only to retrieve my late father's legacy blueprints, the starving, cornered club ambushed me with drawn guns: "Sign over your entire inheritance, or you won't leave alive! The Grand Council will never save a mechanic bitch!" Before the words even left their mouths, the heavy oak doors exploded off their hinges. Clemente "Ghost" Whitaker—the West Coast's deadliest Reaper President—burst in with forty heavy armored cruisers, slamming the Grand Council's official Decree of Absolute Severance into Jarret's terrified face: "Every single dime belongs to her. Touch her, and you die." Cornered and desperate, the mistress staged a bloody fake miscarriage, throwing herself down the stairs. Blinded by rage, Jarret snapped and whipped the heavy steel slide of his Glock across my face, crushing my cheekbone in a spray of blood. Did I break? Not a chance. Wrapped in Ghost's warm, bloodstained sheepskin coat, I wiped the copper from my lips, pulled an encrypted military satellite transponder from my boot, and whispered my final kill order: "Execute Phase Four. Liquidate the compound at sunrise. Leave them with nothing." And as the convoy tore into the night, I caught a glimpse beneath Ghost's open collar: a tarnished brass butterfly tag gleamed against his chest... The exact keepsake I pressed into the hands of a dying boy I pulled from a fire ten years ago. The wolf I saved has returned as the King of the Underworld.

I survived ten years of a brutal, flesh-tearing apocalypse on Earth, only to wake up in a damp, alien jungle. Before I could even catch my breath, a squad of heavily armed men ripped the glowing core out of a truck-sized mantis monster. Then, one of them shifted into a massive, two-headed black hound and cornered me against a tree. My energy reserves were completely dry. Facing a team of elite, beast-shifting predators, a direct fight was absolute suicide. So, I suppressed every ounce of my S-class killing intent, huddled in the dirt, and forced my eyes to well up with terrified tears. I expected to be interrogated or killed on the spot. Instead, the moment they caught my scent, the ruthless killers froze in utter shock, their hostility vanishing into thin air. "A wild female..." They whispered the words like I was a priceless, fragile artifact. I quickly learned the absurd truth of this universe: females were incredibly rare, powerless treasures worshipped and protected by powerful beast-men. Without missing a beat, I clutched my head and faked a flawless case of amnesia. I played the helpless victim, letting their terrifying, notoriously untouchable alpha leader carry me to his starship, secure my legal citizenship, and hand me the keys to a luxury villa along with a hundred million credits. After a decade of fighting for scraps, I finally had a ticket to a perfect, pampered life. Now, I just have to make sure these overprotective men never find out about the world-destroying power dormant inside me.

I am the only "Dragonless" outcast in my noble family. My stepmother and stepsister squandered my late mother's fortune and treated me like a stray dog. When they ran out of money, they forced me to marry the notoriously cruel and cursed Dragon Lord, Cornelius Stark, in exchange for a massive bride price. They thought they were sending me off to die. But I willingly agreed, because I suspected he was the one who murdered my biological sister, Kamilah. I infiltrated his grim estate as his bride, surviving my stepfamily's vicious sabotage and navigating my dangerous new husband. On our wedding night, I finally managed to sneak into his private bedroom to search for clues. My blood ran cold when I opened his drawer. Lying right there was Kamilah's custom silver bracelet. Grief and rage consumed me. I pinned him to the bed, pressing my poisoned dagger against his throat. "Tell me! Why is my sister's bracelet here? Did you kill her?" But the fearsome Dragon Lord didn't fight back. He simply looked at me with deep, unnerving gray eyes and claimed he had lost his memories three years ago. Before I could process the lie, he effortlessly flipped our positions, pinning my wrists above my head. He kissed me with terrifying, draconic possessiveness, declaring that I was his. I didn't believe a single word of his amnesia excuse. But the next morning, while sneaking through his garden, I stumbled upon a crying little boy hiding in the bushes. Just how many secrets was this cursed Lord hiding, and what really happened to my sister?

After a car accident exposed her fiancé's affair with her adopted sister, Kendra realized their betrayal was planned. To protect herself, she faked amnesia and left with Rhett, her fiancé's overlooked illegitimate younger brother. She thought he was an ordinary man living in the family's shadow, only to discover that he was the mysterious leader of the powerful Murphy family. By the time her regretful ex came begging for another chance, Kendra was already standing beside her husband. She pushed him away and said, "The amnesia was fake, but not wanting you was completely real."