The wife he made me forget

‎Luna woke up beside a man she had never seen before. ‎ ‎For three seconds, she simply stared at him. ‎ ‎He was asleep on his back, one arm resting above his head. His dark hair was slightly messy, and even half-asleep, there was something intimidating about his face—sharp jaw, straight nose, thick lashes. ‎ ‎He looked like the kind of man who belonged on the cover of a business magazine. ‎ ‎Not in her bed. ‎ ‎Luna's heart began to pound. ‎ ‎She slowly pulled the blanket toward her chest. ‎ ‎Where was she? ‎ ‎She looked around. ‎ ‎The room was enormous. ‎ ‎A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. Floor-to-ceiling windows were covered by heavy cream curtains. There was a fireplace on one wall, expensive paintings on another, and a king-sized bed large enough to fit four people. ‎ ‎Nothing looked familiar. ‎ ‎Nothing except— ‎ ‎Her own face. ‎ ‎A wedding photograph sat on the bedside table. ‎ ‎Luna froze. ‎ ‎She picked it up. ‎ ‎The woman in the photograph was unmistakably her. ‎ ‎She was wearing a white wedding gown, smiling brightly as she stood beside the sleeping stranger. ‎ ‎His hand was wrapped around her waist. ‎ ‎They looked happy. ‎ ‎Very happy. ‎ ‎Luna dropped the photograph. ‎ ‎The man stirred. ‎ ‎His eyes opened. ‎ ‎For a moment, he looked confused. ‎ ‎Then his gaze landed on her. ‎ ‎His entire expression changed. ‎ ‎"Luna?" ‎ ‎She grabbed the nearest object—a glass vase. ‎ ‎"Don't move." ‎ ‎The man immediately sat up. ‎ ‎"What?" ‎ ‎"Stay away from me." ‎ ‎His eyebrows pulled together. ‎ ‎"Luna, what's wrong?" ‎ ‎"Who are you?" ‎ ‎Silence. ‎ ‎The man stared at her as if she had just spoken another language. ‎ ‎"I'm Adrian." ‎ ‎"I don't know you." ‎ ‎Something flickered across his face. ‎ ‎Pain. ‎ ‎Then confusion. ‎ ‎"Luna..." ‎ ‎"How do you know my name?" ‎ ‎He slowly got out of bed. ‎ ‎She raised the vase higher. ‎ ‎"Don't." ‎ ‎He stopped. ‎ ‎"Okay." ‎ ‎His voice was surprisingly calm. ‎ ‎"I won't come closer." ‎ ‎"Good." ‎ ‎Luna's breathing was uneven. ‎ ‎She looked toward the door. ‎ ‎"I want to leave." ‎ ‎Adrian didn't move. ‎ ‎"Where?" ‎ ‎"Home." ‎ ‎His expression became strange. ‎ ‎"This is your home." ‎ ‎"No, it isn't." ‎ ‎"It is." ‎ ‎"Where am I?" ‎ ‎"My house." ‎ ‎"What house?" ‎ ‎Adrian stared at her. ‎ ‎Then he said quietly, ‎ ‎"Our house." ‎ ‎Luna shook her head. ‎ ‎"No." ‎ ‎"You don't remember." ‎ ‎It wasn't a question. ‎ ‎Her stomach dropped. ‎ ‎"Remember what?" ‎ ‎He looked at the wedding photograph lying on the floor. ‎ ‎Then back at her. ‎ ‎"We've been married for three years." ‎ ‎Luna almost laughed. ‎ ‎Except nothing about this was funny. ‎ ‎"That's impossible." ‎ ‎"Why?" ‎ ‎"Because I've never met you." ‎ ‎Adrian's face tightened. ‎ ‎"You don't remember me." ‎ ‎"I don't." ‎ ‎He looked devastated. ‎ ‎That frightened her more than anger would have. ‎ ‎Adrian picked up his phone from the bedside table. ‎ ‎"Look." ‎ ‎He unlocked it and handed it toward her. ‎ ‎Luna hesitated before taking it. ‎ ‎The screen showed another photograph. ‎ ‎She and Adrian were sitting together at a restaurant. ‎ ‎Her head rested against his shoulder. ‎ ‎She was laughing. ‎ ‎She looked comfortable. ‎ ‎Like she belonged there. ‎ ‎Luna scrolled. ‎ ‎Another photograph. ‎ ‎Her arms around him. ‎ ‎Another. ‎ ‎Adrian kissing her forehead. ‎ ‎Another. ‎ ‎The two of them on a beach. ‎ ‎Another. ‎ ‎A Christmas tree behind them. ‎ ‎Another. ‎ ‎Her asleep against his chest. ‎ ‎There were hundreds. ‎ ‎Maybe thousands. ‎ ‎She felt sick. ‎ ‎"These are fake." ‎ ‎"They aren't." ‎ ‎"You could have made them." ‎ ‎"Why would I?" ‎ ‎"I don't know!" ‎ ‎Her voice cracked. ‎ ‎Adrian went quiet. ‎ ‎Luna stared at the screen. ‎ ‎Three years. ‎ ‎Three entire years of memories she didn't have. ‎ ‎Then she noticed something. ‎ ‎A photograph from a birthday. ‎ ‎She was holding a cake. ‎ ‎Written across it in icing were the words: ‎ ‎Happy 22nd Birthday, My Love. ‎ ‎Luna's fingers went numb. ‎ ‎She was twenty-two. ‎ ‎That was her birthday. ‎ ‎Today? ‎ ‎She looked at the date on the phone. ‎ ‎August 25. ‎ ‎Her birthday was— ‎ ‎She swallowed. ‎ ‎May tenth. ‎ ‎Three months ago. ‎ ‎She couldn't remember celebrating it. ‎ ‎She couldn't remember anything after falling asleep last night. ‎ ‎"What's the last thing you remember?" Adrian asked. ‎ ‎Luna looked up. ‎ ‎"I went to bed." ‎ ‎"Where?" ‎ ‎"My apartment." ‎ ‎"Alone?" ‎ ‎"Yes." ‎ ‎"What happened before that?" ‎ ‎"I..." She frowned. "I don't know." ‎ ‎Adrian's eyes narrowed. ‎ ‎"You don't remember?" ‎ ‎"No." ‎ ‎She closed her eyes, trying to force the memories back. ‎ ‎Her tiny apartment. ‎ ‎Her old blue curtains. ‎ ‎Her phone charging beside her bed. ‎ ‎Rain tapping against the window. ‎ ‎Then darkness. ‎ ‎Nothing after that. ‎ ‎A sharp pain suddenly pierced her temple. ‎ ‎Luna gasped. ‎ ‎For half a second, she saw something. ‎ ‎A hallway. ‎ ‎Someone running. ‎ ‎A man's hand gripping hers. ‎ ‎Blood on a white shirt. ‎ ‎Then— ‎ ‎Gone. ‎ ‎She opened her eyes. ‎ ‎Adrian was staring at her. ‎ ‎"What did you see?" ‎ ‎"I don't know." ‎ ‎"Tell me." ‎ ‎"I said I don't know!" ‎ ‎He took a step forward. ‎ ‎Luna immediately backed away. ‎ ‎He stopped. ‎ ‎"I'm sorry." ‎ ‎She studied him. ‎ ‎There was something odd about him. ‎ ‎He looked frightened. ‎ ‎Not of her. ‎ ‎For her. ‎ ‎Before she could ask anything else, someone knocked on the bedroom door. ‎ ‎"Mr. Vale?" ‎ ‎Adrian turned. ‎ ‎"What?" ‎ ‎"Your attorney is waiting downstairs." ‎ ‎"Tell him I'll be there." ‎ ‎The voice disappeared. ‎ ‎Luna stared at him. ‎ ‎"Mr. Vale?" ‎ ‎"Adrian Vale." ‎ ‎She knew that name. ‎ ‎Everyone did. ‎ ‎Adrian Vale was one of the youngest billionaires in the country. ‎ ‎He owned hotels, technology companies, real estate— ‎ ‎Luna had seen him in newspapers. ‎ ‎But she'd never met him. ‎ ‎At least... ‎ ‎She thought she hadn't. ‎ ‎Adrian walked toward the door. ‎ ‎"I'll give you some time." ‎ ‎"Wait." ‎ ‎He stopped. ‎ ‎"Where are my things?" ‎ ‎"Your things?" ‎ ‎"My phone. My bag. My clothes." ‎ ‎He looked toward the dressing room. ‎ ‎"Everything you own is here." ‎ ‎"No." ‎ ‎She walked into the dressing room. ‎ ‎Her mouth fell open. ‎ ‎Designer clothes filled the wardrobes. ‎ ‎Shoes lined the shelves. ‎ ‎Jewelry glittered beneath the lights. ‎ ‎None of it looked like hers. ‎ ‎Until she saw a small purple handbag. ‎ ‎Her handbag. ‎ ‎She knew it immediately. ‎ ‎She grabbed it and opened it. ‎ ‎Her ID was inside. ‎ ‎Luna Carter. Age: 22. ‎ ‎Her hands trembled. ‎ ‎Behind the ID was a photograph. ‎ ‎Luna pulled it out. ‎ ‎It showed her and Adrian again. ‎ ‎On the back, written in her handwriting, were the words: ‎ ‎Three years. Still my favorite person. ‎ ‎Her heart sank. ‎ ‎She knew that handwriting. ‎ ‎It was hers. ‎ ‎She dropped the photograph. ‎ ‎No. ‎ ‎Something was wrong. ‎ ‎Very wrong. ‎ ‎She grabbed her phone from the handbag. ‎ ‎The screen unlocked with her fingerprint. ‎ ‎There were dozens of missed calls. ‎ ‎Messages. ‎ ‎Photographs. ‎ ‎Her life was sitting inside this phone. ‎ ‎She opened the messages. ‎ ‎Most were ordinary. ‎ ‎Adrian: Don't forget dinner tonight. ‎ ‎Luna: I won't. ‎ ‎Adrian: You said that yesterday. ‎ ‎Luna: And yet you married me. ‎ ‎She stared at the conversation. ‎ ‎That sounded like her. ‎ ‎She scrolled further. ‎ ‎Then stopped. ‎ ‎A conversation with an unknown number appeared. ‎ ‎The last message had been sent yesterday. ‎ ‎Unknown: You have one week left. ‎ ‎Luna's pulse quickened. ‎ ‎She opened it. ‎ ‎Another message appeared. ‎ ‎Unknown: If you tell Adrian, she dies. ‎ ‎Luna stopped breathing. ‎ ‎Who was she? ‎ ‎Before she could scroll further, the screen went black. ‎ ‎The phone had locked. ‎ ‎She tried her password. ‎ ‎Wrong. ‎ ‎Again. ‎ ‎Wrong. ‎ ‎"What the hell?" ‎ ‎She tried her birthday. ‎ ‎Nothing. ‎ ‎Then she remembered something. ‎ ‎Her fingerprint. ‎ ‎She placed her thumb against the screen. ‎ ‎It unlocked. ‎ ‎A hidden note appeared. ‎ ‎Luna stared at it. ‎ ‎The title was simply: ‎ ‎READ THIS ALONE. ‎ ‎Her heart pounded. ‎ ‎She opened it. ‎ ‎There were only three lines. ‎ ‎If you're reading this, you've forgotten everything. ‎ ‎Luna's blood ran cold. ‎ ‎Do not trust Adrian. ‎ ‎Her eyes widened. ‎ ‎And beneath it: ‎ ‎You have seven days to remember the truth. ‎ ‎The bedroom door opened. ‎ ‎Luna spun around. ‎ ‎Adrian stood there. ‎ ‎He wasn't holding the marriage certificate anymore. ‎ ‎He was holding a gun. ‎ ‎His eyes immediately dropped to the phone in her hand. ‎ ‎His face went completely pale. ‎ ‎"Luna..." ‎ ‎She backed away. ‎ ‎"Why do I have a message telling me not to trust you?" ‎ ‎Adrian didn't answer. ‎ ‎"Who erased my memories?" ‎ ‎Still nothing. ‎ ‎Her voice trembled. ‎ ‎"Did you do this?" ‎ ‎Adrian slowly closed the door behind him. ‎ ‎Then he looked directly into her eyes. ‎ ‎"I was hoping you'd never find that." ‎ ‎Luna's stomach twisted. ‎ ‎"Find what?" ‎ ‎His expression hardened. ‎ ‎"The truth." ‎ ‎A loud crash suddenly came from somewhere downstairs. ‎ ‎Adrian's head snapped toward the door. ‎ ‎Luna watched him reach for the gun. ‎ ‎Then he whispered something that made her blood run cold. ‎ ‎"They found us." ‎