After Amnesia, My Husband Went Crazy

Chapter 3 Bitch

His hold was brutal, crushing my wrist like he wanted to snap the bone. I've never been good with pain, and tears pricked at my eyes, but I bit them back. There was no way I was going to let this man see me fall apart, looking weak and pitiful.

Something shifted in Gresham's eyes when he noticed my reaction—something dark. Suddenly, he let go of my wrist and yanked me into his arms from behind, his tone still cold as ice. "Don't you ever try to threaten me with suicide again?"

I fought, writhing against him, desperate to get free, but he only tightened his hold. After a few attempts, I ran out of energy, my struggles growing weaker until I finally gave in, utterly drained. With his arms locked around me, I felt myself slipping, sinking into unconsciousness.

I woke up to sunlight streaming through the window. Turning my head, I saw that Gresham was gone. I exhaled in relief, pulled on a fresh set of clothes, and headed downstairs.

In my pink, off-the-shoulder robe, I caught a glimpse of Gresham's scowl from where he sat, scrolling on his tablet. His expression was downright nasty. "What the hell are you wearing? That's way too revealing. Go change."

I glanced down at the robe—it barely showed any skin, just a hint of collarbone. Seriously? What was he, some uptight relic from the Qing Dynasty?

Ignoring him, I sat down at the breakfast table. Ruth came over with my breakfast, an extravagant spread of both Chinese and Western dishes. Finally, she placed a dessert in front of me—a delicate chocolate ball, beautifully crafted. My nose instantly picked up the scent of Criollo cocoa. I loved chocolate, but I was allergic to this particular variety.

Noticing my hesitation, Ruth explained, "This is from Miss Dean. She sent it as an apology for yesterday."

My stomach turned. "Take it away. I'm not eating that."

Gresham's dark gaze bore into me, his voice heavy with irritation. "Leave it. Haven't you caused enough trouble already?"

I felt my temper flare. "Are you out of your mind? Not eating a dessert is causing trouble?"

"You usually love chocolate," he shot back, moving closer, his eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me you're refusing it just because it's from Sybil. Willa, get a grip on that jealous expression. It's pathetic."

Jealous? Me? Hell no. I couldn't even understand how the old me put up with this guy. In his mind, I was nothing but some petty, insecure i***t. Pathetic, really. We were married, yet he didn't even know I was allergic to this specific type of cocoa.

Too drained to argue, I got up to leave the table.

And then, a soft, sugary voice floated through the room, laced with fake innocence. "Gresham, am I making Willa uncomfortable by being here?"

The saccharine tone was almost nauseating.

I looked toward the doorway. A slender young woman with long blonde hair stepped in. The Hewitt family's housekeeper immediately sprang into action, fetching slippers for her and chatting with her like they were old friends. It was obvious she was a regular here.

This had to be Sybil, Gresham's supposed "true love."

Watching her flash that sweet smile at everyone, as if she owned the place, and seeing Gresham respond with a genuine smile—the first one he'd shown anyone since I'd known him—everything suddenly clicked.

I finally understood why the pre-amnesia me had been so hostile toward Sybil. Who wouldn't be? Seeing their husband so close to another woman, treating her with a care I'd never received, anyone would lose their mind.

Luckily, thanks to my amnesia, this infuriating little scene barely fazed me.

After greeting Gresham, Sybil turned her attention to me with a concerned expression. "Willa, are you alright? I heard you fell in the water yesterday."

Her tone was all concerned, but her eyes told a different story. There was no warmth, just a hint of disdain. Hypocrite. I'd jumped into the water because she had called Gresham away.

I scoffed. "I'm heading upstairs." I had no interest in exchanging fake pleasantries with her. I didn't give a damn about Gresham, so there was no need to put on a show.

Just as I turned to leave, Sybil stepped in front of me, putting on her best innocent act. "Willa, I'm really sorry. I know you're upset, and I know you don't want to see me…"

I cut her off. "If you know, then why don't you just leave? Or are you a masochist?"

Sybil's face went pale; she hadn't expected me to be so blunt.

"Willa! Watch your attitude!" Gresham barked, like I'd done something unforgivable.

Seeing him defend Sybil struck a weird, unfamiliar nerve. Damn it, the pre-amnesia I must've really loved this guy.

But honestly, he was pathetic, defending this two-faced little b***h. My opinion of him hit rock bottom. This just confirmed my decision: no matter how rich or handsome he was, I wanted nothing to do with him.

He could flex his authority and protect his precious Sybil all he wanted. Where was this backbone when he agreed to marry me, despite not wanting to?

I was seething.

Sybil gently tugged on Gresham's sleeve, her voice soft and sweet. "Gresham, don't be hard on Willa. She's not feeling well. It's natural for her to be upset. Please, try to understand."

She continued, "Actually, I came to invite you to my company's celebration party. I finally closed that big deal I was working on, the one that had me up all night with a fever. You helped me so much; you have to come."

The deal that gave her a fever? Was this the project Gresham accused me of sabotaging?

Watching her gaze at him with such adoration, a sudden mischievous urge came over me. Here was my chance to give this little snake a taste of her own medicine. I hadn't planned on coming between them, but Sybil had been undercutting me since she got here. I wasn't about to roll over and take it.

I flashed her a sweet smile. "A celebration party? Sybil, you're still single, right? Wouldn't it be inappropriate for Gresham to go alone? As his wife, I should be the one accompanying him."

Sybil's delicate facade cracked for a split second.

*****

The celebration party took place two nights later, held at a villa Sybil had rented.

The collaboration was with a company that both Sybil and Gresham had mentored, so the place was packed with their mutual acquaintances. When I showed up beside Gresham, the shock on people's faces was unmistakable.

"What the hell? Why's that troublemaker here? Isn't this supposed to be Sybil's party?"

"What do you think? She probably cried and begged Gresham to drag her along. Shameless."

"I heard the groom ditched her on their wedding day, and she tried to drown herself. Now she's waltzing around like nothing happened. If that were me, I'd have zero self-respect left."

"Oh, she knows exactly what she's doing. Clinging to Gresham—who wouldn't want a diamond bachelor like him? Self-respect? She doesn't even know what that is."

"Someone that pathetic will be tossed aside sooner or later. Everyone knows Sybil's the one Gresham truly loves. They're a perfect match."

The nasty remarks were loud enough for me to hear. I bet they slandered me like this all the time. To endure daily ridicule and humiliation from my husband's friends.

No wonder the "old me" had such a meltdown over Gresham. She must've been so in love, unable to let go, until all the spite twisted her spirit. She finally snapped and tried to end it when he abandoned her at the wedding.

Sybil, clearly uninterested in my presence, led Gresham to the main table, pretending I didn't exist. Even the staff ignored me, leaving me stranded in the middle of the villa with no one to direct me.

Fine. If no one was going to show me around, I'd find my own damn way. I started toward the table where Gresham was seated. The whispers around me grew louder, dripping with mockery.

"Wow, look at her—so thick-skinned! That's the VIP table. Does she even belong there?"