After losing my memory, I divorced Don

I woke up to find that I had lost five years of my memory.

I was told that I had been married to Caspian, the ruthless Godfather of the New York Mafia, for five years.

I had harbored a crush on him for a long time, so marrying him should have been good news.

But the terrible truth was, he didn't seem to love me.

After losing my five years of memory, he felt like nothing more than a stranger to me.

"Break the blood oath, Caspian," I said. "We're getting a divorce."

Yet later, he would pace outside my door late at night, refusing to leave: "Darling, just look at me one more time, please?"

Chapter 1

I woke up with the harsh, stinging scent of bleach filling the air.

My wrists felt as if they were weighed down by heavy lead, each pulse throbbing heavily against the gaps in my memory.

I kept my breathing shallow and even, straining my ears to listen carefully.

A voice came from a man standing a few feet away from the bed, speaking into a burner phone.

"Tell the Boss his wife's suicide attempt is just a stunt. Yeah, the shallow kind. She just wants to get his attention again. Tell him not to waste his time coming down here."

I fluttered my eyelids open and turned my head against the pillow.

A man was standing near the doorway.

I didn't know his name, but the heavy pistol resting in the holster beneath his jacket made it crystal clear what kind of life I was living now.

He noticed me looking at him, and a sneer of contempt curled the corner of his lips.

"You can drop the act, Sienna. The Don isn't coming."

I met his gaze, my mind a chaotic swirl of fragmented images tumbling over one another.

"...Who is the Don?"

Marco let out a harsh scoff that bounced off the cold surfaces of the room.

"Amnesia now? After five years of begging the Don to love you, this is your new trick?"

Five years.

The words hit my chest like a heavy blow, stealing the breath from my lungs.

"Five years? But I'm only twenty," I said, my voice hoarse and dry, struggling to process his unbelievable words.

The man took a step closer: "Stop faking it. You're twenty-seven. You've been married to Caspian for five years. For five years, you've disgraced the entire Mafia with your pathetic jealousy over Elena."

Caspian?

The name sent a jolt of adrenaline through my veins.

He was my former crush, the brooding, quiet boy I used to watch from afar.

According to the man standing before me, Caspian was now a New York mob boss, the ruthless head of a crime syndicate whose name was synonymous with terror.

And I was his pathetic, submissive wife.

The rough weave of the pillowcase rubbed against my back. Gritting my teeth against the tearing pain in my bandaged arms, I pushed myself up inch by inch.

I looked down at my hands, staring at the dazzling diamond ring on my finger.

A strong wave of revulsion surged within me, leaving me utterly disgusted by the kind of woman I seemed to have become.

"Get me out of this room!" I commanded.

Marco raised an eyebrow, a flash of surprise crossing his face as if caught off guard by the cold edge in my tone, but he gestured to the guards outside anyway.

They escorted me out of the underground clinic and into a private elevator that went straight up to a penthouse. As the floor numbers climbed, I felt increasingly hollowed out inside.

Pushing the doors open, I was greeted by a living space crafted from cold marble and dark leather.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

Caspian stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his silhouette striking against the backdrop of the glittering city lights.

He was taller than I remembered, his shoulders broader, his presence an oppressive, lethal weight in the air.

He wore a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing the dark syndicate tattoos snaking across his veiny forearms.

He turned around to face me.

His eyes were pitch black, completely devoid of any warmth.

"What new game are you playing this time, Sienna?" His voice was low and dangerous, vibrating like a tremor against glass.

I looked at this man who ruled the criminal underworld, a man who allegedly watched me beg for his affection for five years, and felt nothing but the fear one would have when facing a total stranger.

"I won't cause any more trouble."

Caspian closed the distance between us in three long strides.

He towered over me, the muscles in his cheeks prominent, a hard ridge beneath his skin pulling his jawline as taut as a bowstring.

Instead of looking relieved, his face darkened with a fierce intensity.

He leaned down, his face mere inches from mine, the air around him smelling of cologne and the faint, acrid scent of gunpowder.

"This is an order from the Godfather. You are not to touch Elena ever again. There is nothing but innocence between her and me, do you understand?"

I stared into his ice-cold eyes and felt the last remaining spark of my teenage infatuation turn to ashes.

He turned, unfastening his cufflinks, and walked toward the master bathroom to wash up.

When he came out, he walked straight to the edge of the massive bed, sat down, and looked at me.

"Come here." It was an order.

I took a step back, my body involuntarily shrinking away, because his gaze felt like a man inspecting an object he owned-as if he could snuff the life out of this object at any moment.

"Why are you so cold to me?" The question slipped out; I hadn't planned on saying it.

Caspian let out a heavy sigh, took a step forward, and reached out to grab me.

"You brought this entirely upon yourself."

His massive hand clamped down on my arm, pulling me toward him.

His fingers brushed against the thick gauze wrapped around my wrists, pressing into the exposed, stitched flesh underneath.

His outstretched hand froze.

It seemed the rough texture of the bandages had ruined his mood.

He turned his back to me.

"Never threaten me with a fake suicide attempt ever again," he said, his tone freezing.

I woke up to find myself lying alone in the middle of a massive bed big enough for four people.

I reached out; the sheets on the other side were crisp and cool, as immaculately made as they had been last night.

I pushed myself up, my heavily bandaged wrists throbbing with a dull ache, and made my way downstairs.

The penthouse lobby was suffocatingly silent, broken only by the heavy footsteps of armed guards pacing the perimeter.

I found Caspian sitting at the head of a long dining table.

Flanked by silent enforcers, his deep, intense gaze was locked on a syndicate ledger.

He didn't look up at me when I walked in.

The estate's Capo, an older man in a crisp suit, stepped forward with a stiff, formal demeanor.

"Good morning, ma'am."

"Sit down and eat," Caspian ordered, his tone flat and authoritative.

I sat at the absolute furthest end of the table, putting as much distance between us as possible.

The Capo placed a heavy crystal bowl in front of me.

It was a specialty mango dessert, its sweet aroma so rich it was almost nauseating.

"Miss Elena had this sent over first thing this morning," the Capo announced, his voice sharp enough to carry across the room. "It is Miss Elena's favorite."

The smell, coupled with the nakedly insulting gesture, sent a wave of nausea through me.

I shoved the crystal bowl away, the glass screeching harshly against the tabletop.

"Take it away."

Caspian finally looked up from his ledger.

His deep eyes narrowed, his gaze so piercing it felt as if he were trying to pin me to my chair.

"Know your place, Sienna. Eat your food."

I met his murderous glare without flinching, my resolve only hardening.

"I have no right to eat the leftovers of another woman's favorite dessert in my own home."

I didn't know what my relationship with Caspian was like during the five years I couldn't remember. But we were supposedly husband and wife, yet he didn't even know I was allergic to mangoes.

The guards around the room shifted uneasily, the rising tension in the air becoming almost thick enough to choke on.

Caspian slammed his pen down, the sharp crack echoing like breaking bone.

"Throwing this ridiculous, childish tantrum over a gift-stop embarrassing yourself."

Before I could answer, the heavy double doors of the dining room were pushed open.

The guards immediately parted, bowing their heads slightly in a show of deep respect.

Elena glided into the room.

She wore a designer dress that perfectly accentuated her figure, her smile stiff and insincere.

The Capo rushed forward, hurriedly pulling out a chair and placing it right next to Caspian.

"Good morning, Miss Elena."

Elena rested a slender hand on Caspian's broad shoulder before looking across the table at me.

Her gaze slowly drifted down to my bandaged wrists.

"Sienna, I was so worried. How are your little scratches healing?"

I didn't lower my head, nor did I cry.

I leaned back in my chair and looked at her.

"Did you come all this way just to show off? Or do you always enjoy crashing a married couple's breakfast uninvited?"

Elena's fake smile vanished, replaced by a look of outright hostility.

An angry flush crept up her neck.

She instantly turned to Caspian, her eyes widening to look incredibly vulnerable.

"Caspian, I just came to check on her. I don't know why she's being so cruel to me."

Caspian slammed his hand against the table.

The sound echoed in the high-ceilinged room like a gunshot.

"Enough."

At the Don's command, the entire room fell dead silent.

He glared at me, his face radiating absolute, unquestionable authority.

"Sienna, your unreasonableness is exhausting. Elena is my guest and is under my protection. You will treat her with respect."

I looked at the man who was supposed to be my husband.

He was actively protecting the woman who had openly humiliated me in my own dining room.

Elena appeared exceedingly gentle: "Don't be angry, Caspian. I came specifically to invite you to my celebration banquet..."

After saying that, she seemed to suddenly realize I was standing right there, and it would look bad not to invite me. She had no choice but to say to me, "Will Miss Sienna be joining us as well?"

I originally had no desire to attend, but seeing the smug triumph in Elena's eyes, I changed my mind.

A rebellious sneer graced my lips.

I stood up, pushing my chair back with a harsh scrape of wood against stone.

"Of course. I will respect her immensely. I assume we're all attending her Syndicate's dinner tonight? I wouldn't miss it for the world."

The syndicate gala was held at a sprawling estate, a grand affair where the air was thick with the scent of expensive cigars.

I walked in with my arm linked through Caspian's.

The moment we stepped into the VIP lounge, the whispers rolled in like a tide.

Capos and their underlings stood in small clusters, their gazes sweeping over me with thinly veiled contempt.

"Look at her, the fragile outsider." A voice drifted from a corner.

"She probably threatened to jump off a roof to force him to bring her tonight."

Caspian ignored the muttered insults, leading me toward the inner circle seating.

He walked straight to the center of a deep blue velvet sofa and sat down.

Elena was already there, settling in on his right side, a crystal champagne flute held casually in her hand.

There was no seat left for me.

I stood in front of the low coffee table, watching Elena's loyal sycophants sneer at each other.

A high-ranking soldier leaned back and, with clear intent, blew a thick cloud of smoke in my direction.

"You look tired, Sienna. Maybe the mafia life is too tough for a civilian."

In the past, I would have silently begged Caspian to protect me.

Tonight, I looked the soldier dead in the eye.

"And you look like a man overcompensating for his lack of power by insulting women," I replied calmly.

"Does your Boss know you sit around gossiping all day like a bored housewife?"

The soldier's face darkened with rage, turning a purplish red.

The lounge fell dead silent.

Caspian gripped the armrest of the sofa, his knuckles turning white.

"Drop it, Sienna," he warned in a low voice.

I let out a short, dry laugh.

I turned my back on the most dangerous men in New York.

"I'll leave you to your real family, Don Caspian."

I walked out of the lounge, ignoring the renewed whispers of men predicting I'd come crawling back in tears.

I needed fresh air.

I wandered through the estate's manicured gardens until I found the magnificent swimming pool, its water glowing with a deep, artificial blue beneath the night sky.

The sharp click of heels against stone sounded behind me.

Elena stepped out of the shadows, her fake sweetness instantly gone.

"You're pathetic, Sienna," she sneered in a low voice.

"You think a few sharp words will change anything? You have no power here."

I turned to face her, a wave of exhaustion washing over me.

"Then why don't you make him break his oath? Make him divorce me and take him. I don't want him."

Elena aggressively invaded my personal space, her eyes flashing. "This family belongs to my bloodline. You are a stain on his reign."

"Let's see how much he really cares about you."

"I don't want to see-" Before I could react, her hands slammed hard against my chest.

She shoved me backward.

My heels slipped on the wet stone edge.

I crashed heavily into the water, the freezing cold rushing instantly into my nose and mouth.

The water burned my bandaged wrists, a searing pain tearing through the deep, unhealed wounds. The newly stitched veins groaned in agony from the irritation, and the gauze was instantly soaked with fresh blood.

I couldn't swim!

Panic gripped my chest as I thrashed beneath the surface.

My heavy, waterlogged gown dragged me down into the deep end like a stone.

Through the distorted, churning surface of the water, I saw figures rushing toward the edge.

Then I saw Caspian dive in.

But as I sank toward the bottom of the pool, I watched his dark silhouette slice through the water.

He swam right past me.

He reached for Elena-who had jumped in to play the victim and cover her tracks-and pulled her toward the surface.

A sharp pang of pain pierced my heart.

The very last shred of love I had for him drowned in that suffocating water.

Another pair of arms grabbed me from behind, hauling me upward with all their might.

I broke the surface, gasping for air, coughing violently as I spat pool water onto the rough flagstones.

My savior was a man I didn't recognize. He knelt beside me, his hands on my trembling shoulders to steady me.

A moment later, Caspian walked over, water dripping steadily from his ruined, expensive suit.

"Are you hurt?" he asked with a frown, his tone flat.

A cold, crystal-clear fury flooded my exhausted muscles.

I stumbled to my feet, soaking wet and shivering.

I didn't lunge at him or cry about my grievances.

Instead, using every last ounce of my remaining strength, I raised my arm and swung.

My palm struck the Don's face hard, the sharp crack echoing over the water.

The deadliest men in the syndicate gasped in shock, the sound of weapons being drawn from holsters slicing through the air around the pool.

Caspian didn't move. He took the blow head-on, his head turning slightly from the impact, before raising a hand to halt his guards.

"I want a divorce," I said, my voice trembling with rage.

"Consider that slap my parting gift."