Chapter 1

During our beach getaway, my husband pushed me into the crashing waves just so his little mistress could win a photography competition.

With the raging tide beneath me, I grabbed his pant leg and begged him through my tears to pull me up.

He didn't hesitate. He kicked my hand away with a cold look in his eyes.

I watched the silhouette of his speedboat racing away into the distance, and my heart turned to ash.

I thought the ocean would be my grave, but a local fisherman pulled me from the water.

The near-death experience shattered the mental block I had lived with for five years, and my true memories flooded back.

The first thing I did when I woke up was delete every trace of the woman I had been.

1

"Ma'am, are you absolutely sure you want to expunge the identity of Sienna? Once this is done, Sienna will no longer exist in this world."

I gave a firm nod. "Yes. Wipe it all."

In reality, my name is Meredith Montgomery.

Five years ago, a hiking accident left me with total amnesia, and I ended up lost in the city of Savannah.

Quinn was the one who saved me, and eventually, I became his wife.

In the beginning, we were genuinely happy, known as the golden couple of our social circle.

But everything changed two years ago when his first love, Marilyn, came back into the picture.

I mindlessly scrolled through the live stream of the photography awards on my phone.

Without me there to compete, Marilyn took the grand prize with ease.

In the interview video, Quinn stood beside her with a proud smile, his eyes filled with adoration.

"Marilyn's talent is undeniable. This victory is well-deserved, and as her biggest supporter, I couldn't be more proud," he told the cameras.

"Oh? I thought you would be cheering for your wife," the host probed curiously.

Quinn chuckled. "My wife and I have a deep bond, but when it comes to raw talent in photography, Marilyn is simply in a league of her own."

A mocking sneer touched my lips as I listened to his lies.

I dialed a number I hadn't called in half a decade.

"Marcus, come to Savannah in seven days to pick me up."

The next day, I walked into the house we shared.

Quinn was lounging on the sofa, laughing loudly while video-calling a friend.

When he saw me enter, his laughter died, and a flash of shock crossed his face before he hung up and stood up.

"What happened to your eyes? Why are they bandaged?" he asked, his voice tight.

"I hit some rocks after I fell into the ocean," I replied flatly.

Guilt flickered across his face for a split second.

"Sorry about that. I was just messing around with you. I'm glad you're okay," he said dismissively.

My heart felt like lead. "Right. I figured."

He actually thought a casual apology could erase the fact that he nearly murdered me.

He moved on immediately, as if my life was an afterthought.

"You're back just in time. Go change into something nice; we're heading to Marilyn's victory party."

"This win means everything to her. Since you've won a few titles in the past, you should give her some pointers on her technique."

He didn't mention a word about making me miss the competition.

I played along, pretending nothing was wrong.

There was no point in a screaming match when I was already halfway out the door.

But as I stepped into his car, the suffocating scent of a woman's perfume hit me.

I shifted in my seat, trying to get comfortable, when I felt something soft and silky.

I pulled it out and realized it was a pair of lace panties. I froze.

Quinn's face turned pale instantly.

"Babe, it's… it's not what you think. I gave Marilyn a ride a few days ago, and this must have fallen out of her suitcase. I didn't even see it."

The dried white stains on the fabric told a much filthier story.

I felt a wave of nausea hit me.

I threw the lace at his face, leaned out the window, and vomited.