I Lied I’m His Stepmom, He Wants To Marry Me

When I learned Dante had amnesia, my first reaction was disbelief. The night before the car crash, this man had whispered in my ear that he was clearing the whole weekend just for me. But in the hospital room, seeing half his face wrapped in bandages and his eyes so clear—like he was a different person—I knew it was real. He stared at me, completely still. "Does it hurt?" I asked. "Lawson men don't cry over pain," he said. That one sentence confirmed it—he really had lost his memory. Normally, if he felt even a little pain, he'd whine like it was the end of the world and throw himself into my arms for comfort. "Who are you?" he asked, frowning slightly. "Why does my heart race so fast when I look at you?" My stomach dropped. His right-hand man, Enzo, who had been in the crash with him, had just woken up and nearly jumped out of his hospital bed at those words. "Boss, you don't even remember her?" "Enzo, should I know her?" Dante frowned. Great. Just great. He remembered everyone else, but not me. I looked at him and forced a gentle smile. "I'm Vivienne," I said after a pause. "Your stepmother." Enzo's eyes widened. I shot him a sharp glare. He immediately shut up and mimed zipping his lips. "Stepmother…" Dante repeated the word softly. A flicker of confusion and pain crossed his eyes. "How could I forget I had… a stepmother?" "It's normal that you don't remember," I said softly. "I only married your father two months before he passed." "On his deathbed," I looked him straight in the eyes, speaking each word clearly, "you swore to him that you'd protect me for the rest of your life." That part wasn't a lie—except the oath had been to protect me as his wife. Dante stayed silent for a long time. His fingers twitched, as if he wanted to reach out, but he forced them back. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I forgot you." "It's okay." I patted his shoulder. "Just remember that promise." He nodded, his expression solemn, almost reverent. "I remember. I'll protect you." Good. That was exactly what I was waiting for. Three years ago, when I married Dante, the entire New York underworld exploded. The Lawson family—one of the most untouchable names on the East Coast. Docks, shipping, arms dealing, and a cleaned-up public empire of listed companies. One phone call could make a person disappear or shut down an entire building. Dante Lawson was the family's young Don. Outsiders called him cold, ruthless. Said a twenty-nine-year-old taking that seat had to have an even icier hand than his father. Only I knew what he was like once the bedroom door closed. His possessiveness was pathological. If I said more than a few words to any other man, he assumed they were after me. His stamina was endless. He believed body and heart were inseparable—if I ever got tired and tried to pull away, he thought I didn't love him anymore. We fought over it constantly. And he always had ways of shutting me up in the end. At one point I'd even started dreading that side of our marriage. I secretly wished for a few peaceful days. Now, the chance had come. Even heaven couldn't stand it anymore and gave him amnesia. I decided that until his memory came back, I'd enjoy this peaceful "mother and son" period. Or rather, this "hands-off stepmother" period. The doctor explained Dante's condition to me: temporary amnesia from the crash trauma, nerve compression. He needed rest, minimal stimulation. High chance of recovery. I nodded that I understood. His best friend and the family's consigliere, Julian, came to visit with a fruit basket. The two men hugged as usual. "Weird," Julian raised an eyebrow. "You didn't roll your eyes and tell me to f**k off today." "I have amnesia," Dante said flatly. Julian froze for three seconds. "…For real? Isn't that only in movies?" "The boss really does have amnesia," I chimed in with a smile. "Right now, I'm his stepmother. Sorry you had to see this, Julian." I shot him a look. Julian was sharp as a tack—he got it instantly. "Oh—I get it. I totally get it." "What do you get?" Dante frowned. "You show up with one measly fruit basket? Cheapskate." Memory gone, but that mouth was still the same. Julian laughed awkwardly and started to play along, almost slipping: "It's not like I'm scared of my sis—" "Ahem." I coughed loudly. "—scared Vivienne would worry, that's all." He smoothly corrected course. Dante didn't catch it. He stared at Julian for a moment, then said seriously, "This is my stepmother. Be respectful. She's the person I swore to protect." Julian looked between us, shoulders shaking as he tried not to laugh. "Yes, yes, of course I'll be respectful." As I walked him out, Julian lowered his voice. "Vivienne, that move is brutal. He actually bought it?" "He did." "You're not going to tell him?" "I'll tell him once I've had enough rest," I said matter-of-factly. "You know exactly what he's like. I need a breather." Julian clutched his forehead, laughing as he left. Back in the room, Dante was lost in thought. "What's wrong?" I asked. He looked up, confused. "I was thinking… is it wrong for a man to have his heart race like this when he looks at his stepmother?" My heart skipped. I kept my face neutral. "You just haven't seen me in a while. It's just unfamiliarity." "Really?" He looked down, the tips of his ears turning red. I pretended not to notice. As long as he believed the oath, that little spark couldn't become a wildfire. Or so I thought.