Chasing Her Back: The Billionaire's Wife Has Amnesia

Amelia's POV Dominic -my husband of three years- is cheating on me. I've known about this betrayal for the past five months but I have kept it hidden to myself. Partly because I don't know how to confront him and partly because I'm scared of how he'll react. My phone chimes and I look down to see that it's another message from Dina, Dominic's assistant and the person who told me about my husband's infidelity. My hand shakes slightly as I open the thread of messages between us and click on the attached photo that she just sent to me. A choked gasp leaves my parted lips as I look at a picture of Dominic walking into a hotel with his arms wrapped around a woman. A different woman from the one in the pictures that Dina sent to me yesterday. I quickly close the chat and push my phone away from me, not having the heart to keep staring at the pictures. Dina has been sending me these photos for the past five months -anytime Dominic is on those business trips he frequently has. She said that she felt guilty and couldn't bear for me to be kept in the dark any longer. According to her, it has been going on for a year now; ever since my pregnancy loss. Losing our baby put a huge strain on our mental health and relationship, but I never thought that it would drive Dominic away from me. Sadly, I haven't mustered up the courage needed to take the big step of leaving him and walking away from our failed marriage. To do that, I would need money and a job to provide basic amenities for myself. Both of which I unfortunately do not have. I'm not proud of myself but I haven't had to worry about money ever since I met Dominic. He took care of everything and I never once used the accounting degree that I struggled to get. I was so in love with him and I never imagined that there would come a time when I wished I wasn't completely dependent on him. Don't get me wrong, Dominic did open an account for me in which he puts in a weekly allowance for whatever personal needs I might have, but it feels wrong to use his money to start a new life. The ringing of my phone pulls me out of my head. I reach for the phone and find an unknown number on the screen. With a scrunched forehead, I answer the call and place the phone against my ear. "Hey, is this Amelia Devon?" A masculine voice asks from the other side of the line. My brows furrow. "Yes, this is her," I answer. "I'm Eric." There's a long pause where I have to take the phone away from my ear and glance at the screen just to make sure that he is still on the line with me. There's heavy breathing on the other side of the line, and I'm half tempted to just end the call, but I'm curious to find out how this stranger knows my name. "Hello," I call out impatiently. "I'm your half-brother," he chokes out and my breathing halts. "I've been searching for you for years. I know you have a million questions and you probably already have your finger above the end call button." He gives a light chuckle. "Please, can we meet up and talk? I'll explain everything to you," he promises vehemently. My throat closes up, words unable to form as my head repeats this stranger's words over and over. I have never had a family. I was dumped at the orphanage's front door a few days after I was born according to the nuns that took me in and cared for me. I was never adopted and when I turned eighteen, I moved out and stayed in some shelters for a few years while struggling to attend a community college that was close by and also juggling several odd jobs. It was around that time that I had met Dominic and he had seemed like a breath of fresh air to a smitten twenty years old me. I fell hook, line and sinker. I didn't think twice about moving in with him and allowing my whole world and existence to revolve around him. "Amelia," my so-called half-brother calls out in a worried tone. "You went quiet on me. Is everything alright?" Is everything alright? Is he being serious? I'm getting harassed by someone who thought that it would be funny to play a cruel prank on me while I'm struggling to accept my husband's infidelity. While also trying to figure out a way to get funds to flee. I'm not even interested in knowing how this stranger got my name and phone number. "You should be ashamed of yourself," I chastise. I doubt my words will affect his morals but I try anyway. "Pranking someone on such a sensitive issue is disgusting and frankly, it's disturbing. Go find something worthwhile to do with your time." With a hiss, I slam my thumb finger on the end call button and throw my phone on the couch beside me with an annoyed huff. Some people are just crazy. My phone rings five seconds later and I glance down at the screen to see the same number calling. I shake my head and stand up to go to the kitchen. I'm suddenly craving some peach. Throughout my time in the kitchen, the sound of my phone constantly ringing aggravates me as I munch on my peaches. As I'm about to bite into my third peach, the incessant ringing starts again and I angrily hop down from the kitchen stool and march over to my phone. I pick it up and answer the call. "Stop calling me, freak!" I yell and move it away from my ear to block the number. "You were dropped off at Grace orphanage when you were just two days old. You weighed five pounds because you were a premature baby. You have a scar on your arm from the forceps that the doctors used to pry you out. Your genotype is AA." He rushes all this information out in less than ten seconds and by the time he's done, his heavy panting can be heard on the other side of the line. "I'm not stalking you. I got all this information from our father." My free hand absentmindedly reaches for the little scar on my elbow that no one knows of. "Please, just give me a chance to meet you. I'll explain everything to you. Please, just an hour of your day will do," he begs. I swallow, my heart pumping heavily. "Meet me at Belle Vita in one hour."