Divorce Me, Mr. Lancaster

Chapter 3

𝐻𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐴𝐻

I wanted to scream at him. To remind him of the countless nights he made me cry myself to sleep. I wanted to throw it in his face how one needy phone call from Chloe would make him leave the house in a raining storm at 2:00 a.m.

I wanted to shriek until he finally understood what a vile, soul-crushing husband he’d been, and how deeply I cursed the day I ever agreed to wear his ring.

But what was the point?

It was just going to be a blank memory in his head, since he didn’t remember a single thing and that was what shattered me the most.

“Did you send for me just so you could call me a bad wife?” I asked. My voice was dripping with coldness that I didn’t even try to hide. Why bother? I’d never received a single drop of warmth from him in return.

“I thought you were my wife? Why didn’t you visit me? You showed up once and disappeared like I didn’t matter to you.”

There was something wrong with the way he spoke. He didn’t look or sound like the Jacob Lancaster I had endured for three years, but I forced myself to remember that it was just the amnesia wearing his skin.

“I can’t remember anything, Hannah,” he muttered, pressing two fingers to his temple. “No matter how hard I push, it’s just… nothing. Everything feels wrong. Are you really my wife, like Albert and Brenda had said?”

I stared back at him, hesitating to speak.

“Please, say something,” he breathed, a desperate, vulnerable edge creeping into his tone. “I need to know. I don’t know what’s real or who to believe anymore.”

Was he seriously expecting me to feel sorry for him? Did he actually think a little memory loss would make me feel sorry for him?

Jacob had never offered me an ounce of mercy. Not when I was sick, not when I was breaking down, not when I begged for a little of his care.

It had always been about Chloe. Always.

I swallowed the bitter lump in my throat, forcing the pain back down into the dark corner where it belonged. Until the ink was dry on the settlement, I was legally bound to him.

“Yes… I’m your wife,” I said, flatly. “We got married three years ago.”

He gave a slow nod, though it was obvious the words triggered zero recognition in his brain.

“Did we have a child ?” he asked suddenly, looking at me with genuinely curious eyes.

I nearly let out a scoff. A child? How could we possibly have a child when he treated my touch like a disease?

In three years, I had never gotten a kiss, a touch, or a real embrace from him. He’d kept his distance as if intimacy with me was beneath him.

It was infuriating that he was standing there, completely oblivious, asking questions like a curious stranger.

I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and violently shake him until his memories crashed back.

“No, Jacob. We don’t,” I said, exercising every ounce of self-control to keep myself from snapping. “We don’t have a child.”

He nodded again.

“Then why didn’t you come to see me?” he asked, stepping a little closer. “I’m supposed to be your husband, right? Shouldn’t a wife care when her husband barely survives a coma?”

I clenched my fists at my side, trying so hard to hold it in. The only thing saving him from my outburst was the fact that he had amnesia.

“You should’ve been here, Hannah,” he murmured, his voice infuriatingly gentle. “Do we even love each other?”

“Jacob!”

The shrill, overly dramatic voice pierced through the room before I could even open my mouth to hurl a harsh “No” in his face.

I turned just as Chloe burst through the door, her cheeks glistening with carefully rehearsed crocodile tears.

“Who are you?” Jacob asked, his forehead knotting as he stared at her.

Chloe put on a masterclass of tragic grief, rushing toward him with her arms outstretched. “I couldn’t believe it when your mother called and said you had amnesia! I booked the absolute first flight to LA as soon as I heard.” she sobbed, attempting to hug him.

To my complete and utter shock, Jacob didn’t open his arms. Instead, he abruptly stepped backward, using his IV pole as a barricade to dodge her.

Chloe froze in mid-air, her pathetic act momentarily glitching.

“You still haven’t told me who you are,” Jacob muttered.

Chloe blinked away her fake tears, trying to recalibrate. “Didn’t your mother explain? It’s me, Jacob… Chloe. I’m your favorite person in the world, right after your mom.” She reached out again, her manicured fingers aiming for his arm, but Jacob recoiled, jerking his hand out of her reach.

“I lost my memory, so no, I don’t know you. The only reason I even know you’re Hannah’s stepsister is because Brenda happened to bring it up.” He flicked his eyes toward me, but I immediately lowered my gaze, refusing to be pulled into their dynamic.

“Exactly, Jacob,” Chloe said, turning her head to throw a venomous glare in my direction before putting on a sweet smile for him. “I’m Hannah’s sister… but you’ve always preferred me over her.”

Jacob’s eyebrows shot up. “Why on earth would I prefer you over my own wife?”

His wife.

The words echoed in the quiet room, sounding completely surreal. It was the first time in my entire existence that he had ever referred to me as his wife.

In his mind, before the accident, I wasn’t a wife—I was just Hannah, the unwanted, illegitimate burden of the Castillo family who dragged him down.

Chloe’s fake smile faltered, her tone turning sharp. “Because you were forced into it! You wouldn’t have married her in the first place if she hadn’t tricked you!”

“Tricked me?” Jacob muttered. He pressed a hand against his temple, his face twisting as he tried to dig through the blank void in his brain, but when nothing came up, he whipped his head back to me. “What is she talking about, Hannah? Why would you trick me into marrying you?”

“Because she’s a manipulative…”

“Can you shut up?!” Jacob barked, turning to look at Chloe with a look of pure irritation.

The room went dead silent.

My heart did a strange, uncomfortable leap. Did Jacob just tell Chloe to shut up? The same Chloe he placed on a pedestal?

The same woman he allowed to walk all over me simply because I was born on the wrong side of my father’s marriage?

Chloe stood frozen, her mouth slightly open, utterly stunned. “J-Jacob…” she whispered.

“Leave us alone… I need to talk to my wife.”

“Jacob, I…”

“Are you deaf?!” he cut her off. “What part of ‘I need to talk to my wife’ is unclear to you?”

Chloe gasped, her face twisting in pure humiliation. “Fine! I’ll leave!” she spat out, throwing one last glare at me that practically promised retribution before she spun on her designer heels and slammed the door behind her.

“What she said wasn’t true, right?” he asked.

Of course it was true. I had taken advantage of his absolute desperation in order to get married to him.

“Yes, it was. I told you to get married to me and in return, I would be a kidney donor to Chole.”

“Why?”

I loved him.

I sincerely and truly loved him.

I spent every day of my life shamelessly telling him how much I loved him, but now that he had no memory of those moments… it was buried in the past.

What I had left for him was nothing but resentment?

“Why would you give up a piece of your own body just to trap me in a marriage? Didn’t we get married because we loved each other?” he asked, staring at me with eyes filled with innocent.

I had to force my eyes closed for a brief second to remind myself who I was looking at.

This wasn’t Jacob Lancaster.

This was just a man with an empty head. The second his memories flooded back into his brain, he would instantly morph back into the cold-blooded monster who broke me.

“I shouldn’t be the one answering that for you, Jacob. Work on getting your memory back… and you’ll find out exactly what kind of man you were.”

“You think I like this?” he snapped. “You think I want to be standing here with an empty head, surrounded by strangers telling me who I am?!”

“If you try harder, you’re going to get your memories back.” I said, taking a slow step back toward the door. “But that doesn’t mean the divorce isn’t pushing through.”

He blinked. “Divorce? What divorce?”

“I’m filing for an annulment, Jacob,” I said, feeling the last remaining threads of my old life snap cleanly in two. “I am done being your wife.”