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

Chapter 3

That afternoon, I hid in the study and started browsing on the tablet.

I came across a trending forum post.

"I've fallen for my stepmother and even dreamed about her—what should I do?"

The title alone was explosive.

I clicked in. The original poster had written three thousand words about his "strange feelings" for a woman and his recent inner torment.

"I was in a car accident and lost my memory. The first person I saw when I woke up was her."

"She's gentle, beautiful, and takes care of me. I can't stop staring at her. I crave her scent. Just touching her hand makes my heart feel like it's going to explode."

"But she's my stepmother. I swore to protect her. I keep telling myself I can't do this, but I can't stop wanting her."

"Can anyone tell me what I should do?"

The comments section had blown up.

"Get a grip—you're lusting after your father's woman?"

OP replied: "I'm not disrespecting my father. I just… really have feelings for her."

"Stepmom, dude? If this gets out, how are you supposed to keep running things on the street?"

OP: "I don't care what others think."

"This is complicated—ethics and morality are involved."

OP: "I know. That's why I can't sleep."

The familiar tone, the familiar phrasing, the "car accident," "amnesia," "stepmother"…

A chill ran down my spine.

This couldn't be…

I checked the poster's IP location.

New York.

I looked at the post times—all in the early morning hours.

Perfect match with the guy who hadn't slept last night.

Well, well, Dante Lawson.

Even with amnesia, you went online for advice.

I took a deep breath and decided to go big.

I left a comment: "Since you're struggling so much, you might as well get a vasectomy ahead of time. One and done, problem solved. So you don't slip up one day and make a huge mistake."

Satisfied, I went to get a cup of coffee.

When I came back, the post had been deleted because the topic was too sensitive. Only the OP's final reply remained:

"Makes sense. I'll think about it."

Me: "…"

You've got to be kidding.

A week later, we went back to the hospital for a check-up.

Dante had a full exam. Everything looked normal—better than expected.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

After the exam, Dante told me to head home first—he had something to take care of.

I asked suspiciously, "What thing?"

"Guy stuff," he said smoothly. "You go ahead."

He wasn't really going to…

I pretended to leave but secretly followed him.

He wound through the hospital and stopped outside a department.

I looked up at the sign—

Urology.

Me: "…"

He actually went?!

I hid around the corner, watching him walk into the clinic, too stunned to move.

This man lost his memory, read one forum post, and actually came to get a vasectomy?

I couldn't tell if I should admire his follow-through or worry that his brain got damaged too.

After a long while, I covered my face and squatted in the hallway, laughing silently until my shoulders shook.

Perfect.

Even with amnesia, he hadn't forgotten his true nature.

I waited for him to come out, then acted like I'd just arrived. "All done?"

"All done," he said calmly.

"What'd you take care of?" I asked innocently.

He glanced at me, ears turning slightly red, and said nothing.

I didn't call him out.

Deep down, my guard loosened a little.

A vasectomy was fine.

At least now I could sleep soundly.

I never expected this man to be so stubbornly thorough—even his amnesia was extreme.