My Amnesia Ended The Husband Who Spoiled Me Was My Family's Killer

Five years of marriage, and Ethan Sterling spoiled me rotten. Because I was always freezing, he relocated our entire lives to a sunny estate in Southern California.

Knowing my obsession with lychees, he bought the only private lychee orchard in the state at an exorbitant price just for me.

He even got a vasectomy, purely because he couldn’t bear the thought of me going through the pain of childbirth. A lavish lifestyle, a wildly successful techmogul husband.

The media constantly labeled us the happiest couple in California. But tonight, on our fifth anniversary.

Just as Ethan, drenched in sweat, rolled off my body—his eyes still hazy with lingering desire.

I took the custommade, diamondtipped hairpin he had gifted me and plunged it straight into his heart.

Drowning in his own blood, he looked at me in absolute despair as I calmly wiped my fingerprints off the weapon.

I broke down, my tears falling onto his dying face: "Ethan, I remember. I remember everything." "This stab is six years too late." Ethan Sterling was a god in San Francisco.

The locals spoke of him with nothing but reverence. The moment news of his critical condition broke, the internet erupted, demanding I be locked away for life.

In the interrogation room, I remained dead silent for three days and three nights.

Until Lucy Martinez, a young detective newly assigned to my case, slid a photo in front of me. "According to this, you two knew each other and were married long before you arrived in California." "So why did Mr.

Sterling tell everyone you met and married in San Francisco five years ago?" The young man and woman in the photo looked incredibly naive.

They looked nothing like the polished couple from five years ago. I stared at the photo for a long time before I finally found my voice. "Yes.

Ethan and I didn’t start our lives five years ago." "And...

I wasn't even his first wife." I pulled down my collar, revealing a hideous, fifteenstitch scar just below my collarbone.

Ignoring Lucy's gasp, I began to tell her the story of a lifetime ago. Before me, Ethan had an exwife. An exwife he personally threw into prison for two years.

When I first met Ethan, he was just a divorced, bankrupt young entrepreneur with nothing but a dream. He had come to my university to pitch his startup and look for partners.

Since we shared the same major, our paths crossed. I was the only daughter of the Vance family. I grew up pampered, a princess who got everything she wanted.

But when I brought Ethan home to meet my parents, they rejected him instantly and harshly. "Amy," my father said, "his past is too messy.

A man who can ruthlessly send his own wife to prison is coldblooded." "We don't need a prestigious family alliance, but we do need someone with a clean heart." "You are too naive.

He is not the one for you." But a young girl in love never listens to reason. I ignored my parents.

I moved into a halfbuilt apartment with him, pulled allnighters working on business proposals, and ran around the city trying to secure clients.

Seeing my stubbornness, my parents could only sigh and capitulate.

They gave Ethan the ultimate boost in the business world, showering him with the Vance family’s resources, connections, and capital. Ethan was brilliant.

In just two years, his name shook the business world of the city. He climbed to the top like a rocket. By the third year, I was pregnant.

Ethan knelt before my parents, offering all his company shares as a dowry. He swore he was eternally grateful to the Vance family and begged them to let him marry me.

That was the year we loved each other the most. And that was also the year everything shattered.

Three months before our wedding, we ran into his exwife, Fiona Rivers, at a highend grocery store.

She was working as a promotional sample girl, desperately trying to get shoppers to try brandname milk. The moment Ethan saw her, he knocked over a display rack.

There was a look in his eyes I had never seen before. Later, I learned that look was called regret. That night, Ethan sat in front of his computer in the study until dawn.

When I went in to wrap a blanket around his shoulders, he turned, wrapped his arms around my waist, and wept uncontrollably. "What do I do, Amy? I just found out...

I got it all wrong." "She didn't steal my startup funds to run away. She did it to pay for her mother’s cancer treatment." "But I sent her to prison.

She hid the truth just so she wouldn't drag me down." "And now, because of me, a toptier university graduate is reduced to handing out samples just to survive." I was young and softhearted back then.

So when he suggested bringing Fiona into his company to make amends, I didn't think twice. That moment of pity was the first catastrophic mistake of my life.

Taking notes, Lucy looked up. "So they rekindled their old flame at work, and you caught them in bed?" I shook my head. "If only it were that simple." At first, I thought it was just a regular job.

It wasn't until I went to his office to drop off some documents that I realized the "position" Ethan gave her. Fiona was his personal secretary.

Her desk was placed right inside his private office. Later, through the confession of my former assistant, I learned the truth.

Ethan’s early departures and late returns weren't for business. He was chauffeuring Fiona. He took her to every major corporate gala and handed her his core business accounts.

Even on the nights he claimed he was working late, he was wrapped in Fiona’s arms. I felt a betrayal so profound it made me sick. I stormed into his office, demanding he fire Fiona.

But Fiona immediately dropped to her knees, crying and begging me not to blame Ethan. "Amy, you've got it all wrong.

Ethan and I are ancient history." "I'm just trying to make a living.

If I lose this job, no one else will hire an excon." Her pathetic, submissive act only triggered Ethan’s protective instincts.

For the first time in three years, I saw an emotion on Ethan's face that wasn't warmth or tenderness. It was disgust. "Enough, Amy. Don't be so paranoid.

I'm doing this out of pure guilt." "Fiona has had a brutal life. She wasn't born with a silver spoon like you." "I'll transfer her to another department.

Everyone deserves a second chance, okay?" I left the office in absolute humiliation, feeling the burning stares of his employees on my back.

Somehow, word of the incident reached my father's ears. He personally called Ethan. Fiona was forced to leave the company.

But my father, trying to protect my peace, gave her a check. "Amy, you did the right thing. Fiona had to go," my father told me gently. "I gave her $300,000.

It’s more than enough for her to start over." "Consider it us buying out Ethan’s guilt." But a few weeks later, I ran into Fiona in the elevator of my own building.

The penthouse we lived in was in the most expensive district in the city—a wedding gift from my parents.

And Ethan had bought the entire floor directly below us for Fiona. "Amy, I had to," Ethan pleaded when I confronted him. "It’s the only way I can sleep at night." "We are having a baby in six months.

Can we please stop focusing on irrelevant people?" For the sake of our unborn child and the future I so desperately wanted, I softened once more.

After that, Ethan became the perfect husband again. He came home right on time every day.

He rolled up his sleeves to cook nutritious meals for me, read parenting books, and even hired a postpartum doula, promising he would take care of me himself.

He said he was more excited about this baby than anyone else in the world. Everything seemed to go back to how it was. Just when I thought happiness had returned...

Ethan abandoned me on our wedding day.

During the ring exchange ceremony, his phone rang. His face drained of all color. Ignoring my tears and my hands clawing at his sleeve, he turned and ran.

Halfway through the ceremony, the groom abandoned the bride. The Vance family became the biggest laughingstock in high society. I stood on the altar, my makeup ruined by tears.

My father was so enraged that he suffered a massive heart attack on the spot and was rushed to the ICU. When I needed him most, I couldn't reach Ethan at all.

When my father finally woke up in the hospital, the first thing he did was apologize to me.

He hated himself for helping a monster, and he hated that he hadn't seen through Ethan's mask sooner. Eventually, I tracked Ethan down.

But when I found him with the divorce papers in my hand... He was holding Fiona’s hand, walking her out of an OBGYN clinic after a prenatal checkup.

In that single second, I heard the sound of my own heart shattering into a million pieces. The call Ethan had received at our wedding... was from Fiona.

She had told him she was pregnant and was leaving the country forever.

Ethan snatched the divorce papers from my hands and ripped them to shreds. "I am not the powerless kid who had to beg for your family's approval anymore, Amy," he sneered. "I have the right to choose who I want to be with." "Accept Fiona, and we can still keep this marriage going." Now that he was powerful, he turned his weapons on us.

Abandoning me at the altar was his twisted way of taking revenge on the Vance family for "patronizing" him. In the end, I couldn't even divorce him.

His influence in the city had grown so immense that the Vance family could no longer compete.

I couldn't find a single lawyer in the state who dared to take my case against Ethan Sterling. Lucy looked astonished. "It sounds like Mr. Sterling still wanted to keep you around.

How did it escalate to a matter of life and death?" At the time, I also foolishly believed he still had lingering feelings for me. But reality slapped me in the face immediately.

My father’s life's work—the Vance Conglomerate—went completely bankrupt overnight. The mastermind behind it was Ethan.

Before I could even confront him, he found me first, dragging me brutally into his car. "Why did you have to bring Fiona into our mess?!" he roared. "Did you think hiring someone to force a miscarriage on her would solve your problems?" "You're dead wrong.

I can have ten more kids with her if I want." "I told you before, Amy—never try to control me.

Ruining your father's company was just a small warning." He drove me to Fiona's apartment and forced me to apologize to her. "If you behave, I will still take care of you and your mother," he said coldly.

Fiona cradled her stomach, sobbing like a victim.

But the moment Ethan turned his back to take a call, she leaned in close to my ear, her voice dripping with venom. "Sacrificing a baby to make Ethan hate you forever?

Best bargain of my life." My mind went completely blank. I realized what she had done. In a fit of pure rage, I shoved her to the ground, screaming her plot out loud.

But Ethan violently threw me off her, roaring that I was completely insane. "I’ve spoiled you too much, Amy!

Get the hell out!" "Try something like this again, and you'll find out exactly what I'm capable of." That was the first time he ever laid a hand on me.

I don't even remember how I dragged myself back to the hospital. Despite my best efforts to hide it, my father saw the violent red handprint on my cheek.

Clutching his aching chest, he dialed Ethan's number, just as he had done many times before. Only this time, there was no respect on the other end of the line.

After hanging up, my father's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed. My mother and I screamed, trying to run out to get a doctor.

But the heavy suite door had been locked from the outside. We pressed the emergency call button for a solid hour, but no one came.

In the end, we could only watch in agonizing silence as my father died of cardiac arrest. Before he drew his last breath, he mumbled a few words.

He expressed his deep regret to my mother, and his terrifying worry for me. The blood feud between Ethan and the Vance family was no secret in high society.

My father had been a good man his entire life, yet hardly anyone dared to show up at his funeral. Ethan arrived just as the service was ending.

Behind him was Fiona, wearing a bright red dress. "Arthur was such a good man. It's such a pity he left so early," she said, wiping fake tears.

As she lowered her hand, she "accidentally" knocked over a heavy memorial candle. In an instant, the flames devoured my father's portrait.

As the fire grew, something inside me snapped. I pulled a dagger from my bag and lunged at them like a feral animal.

The hospital where my father died was owned by Ethan’s conglomerate. Our locked door and the dead silent emergency line that night were entirely their doing.

Ethan’s reflexes were incredibly fast. He instinctively shielded Fiona. With a brutal twist of my wrist, he disarmed me and shoved me backward.

My shoulder slammed into the concrete wall, and the blade slipped, slicing deep into my chest right below the collarbone. The wound was so deep I could see my own bone.

In the ambulance, he leaned over me, his voice low and tight. "Amy, your father's death is on you." "You're the one who gave him a heart attack, and now you're losing your mind at his funeral?" "You are not a spoiled princess anymore.

You can't just act without consequences." "Keep your head down, deliver our baby, and I will hire the best psychiatrists in the world to treat your mother." After my father passed, my mother's mind began to unravel.

I hated my own powerlessness. I could only close my eyes, submitting to his decision to lock me away in his villa to carry the pregnancy.

Maybe once the baby was born, it would be a new beginning. Ethan started remodeling the nursery, preparing rooms for both a boy and a girl.

I, too, began to look forward to the baby, even picking out a name. But during the first snow of that winter, I miscarried. Fiona had sneaked into the sanitarium to see my mother.

God knows what she said to her. My mother wandered off and got lost in the freezing cold. Heavily pregnant, I ran out of the villa to look for her.

But the moment I stepped past the gates, a car plowed straight into me. Through the shattered windshield, I saw the driver clearly. It was Fiona.

When I woke up in the hospital, empty and broken, Ethan dismissed my accusations with a wave of his hand.

He merely sent Fiona abroad "for a while." Standing before my baby's empty memorial garden, everything became crystal clear. I was the one who ignored my family to be with him.

I was the one who begged my father to build him up. And in return, Ethan allowed his mistress to destroy my family piece by piece.

In the dead of night, while the guards slept, I set the villa on fire. But the security systems were too advanced. The fire didn't even scratch Ethan or Fiona.

Six months later, Ethan assumed I had finally accepted my fate. He decided to throw us a lavish yacht wedding in Iceland to "make it up to me." I still remember that day.

He coaxed me into a beautiful lace wedding dress. Amidst the roaring cheers of the guests, he led me to the center of the deck.

But during the ring exchange, another disaster struck. Only this time, I was the one who caused it. I ripped my hand out of his grasp.

Before his shocked and devastated eyes, I jumped straight into the freezing, dark ocean. A year of agonizing love and hate ended right there.

It was a classic story: a rich girl falls for a poor boy, and ends up destroying her entire family. Lucy’s hand froze over her notepad.

She couldn't speak for a long time. "So... the legendary, hopelessly devoted Mr.

Sterling was actually a monster?" "Then how did you..." Before she could finish, her colleague called her out of the room.

A few minutes later, she returned and unlocked my handcuffs. "You're free to go, Mrs. Sterling." I was stunned. I had fully prepared myself for a life sentence.

Lucy explained that Ethan, who had been in a coma for days, had finally woken up. He claimed the stabbing was a domestic accident and had nothing to do with me.

His assistant had already filed a forged psychiatric report, claiming I suffered from severe delusional schizophrenia, making my confession legally invalid.

Just like that, he got me out on bail. Ethan Sterling was always so meticulous. Before I got into the car, Lucy ran out to ask the final question. "Mrs.

Sterling, how did you lose your memory? And how did you end up in California?"

But Ethan’s assistant quickly stepped between us, ushering me into the back of a stretched Lincoln. The car drove me straight to the private wing of the hospital.

Ethan was propped up against the pillows. The bandages on his chest were stained with fresh blood, his face pale and weak.

Yet, when he saw me, that familiar, suffocating tenderness returned to his eyes.

He held out a freshly peeled lychee, acting as if nothing had happened. "Amy, the lychees from our orchard just arrived.

Want a bite?" I stood by the door, refusing to take a step closer. The private nurse next to him looked at me with indignation. "Mr.

Sterling ordered these the second he woke up, knowing you'd be coming." I looked away from the fruit and locked eyes with Ethan. "My name is not Amy.

It’s Amelia Vance." "You got a vasectomy out of guilt because you knew you killed our only child and ruined my body so I could never conceive again." "And I don't hate the cold.

You brought me to Southern California because it never snows here.

You wanted to make sure I would never remember that winter night." "Did you really think erasing my memories would allow you to enjoy my love guiltfree?

A despicable coward like you doesn't deserve a single second of happiness!" When they fished me out of the Icelandic sea years ago, I had wanted nothing but death.

I tried to take him to hell with me every chance I got.

I poisoned his drinks, pulled the handbrake while he was driving on the highway, and threw a pluggedin hair dryer into his bathtub. Eventually, he broke.

He knelt at my feet, weeping, asking me what it would take for me to forgive him and just live with him. "Only when you are dead," I had told him.

Driven to desperation, he flew in the world’s top hypnotherapists. They subjected me to months of intense cognitive restructuring and memory suppression.

When I finally woke up in Southern California, my mind was a blank slate. Ethan told me my name was Amy, and that I had lost my memory in a skiing accident.

He said he was my fiancé, and we were about to be married. Our third wedding was a perfect success—bought at the price of my entire soul.

This beautiful cage built on his lies was designed to hide the blood and bones of my family. "Those five years were stolen time.

I am content," Ethan whispered, his voice trembling. "Do you know how terrified I was every single day, Amy?

I was terrified you'd remember, and everything would vanish." "I regret it every day.

If I could go back, I would never have let Fiona back into our lives." "But in the beginning, I just wanted everyone to have a good ending.

I didn't know it would turn out like this." He carved agonizing wounds into my soul, yet greedily crawled back to beg for my love.

I loathed his selfrighteousness, and I hated myself for falling in love with him again during those five blank years. A sharp pain shot through my skull.

I clutched my head and crouched down. "Shut up! Do you think your pathetic confession changes anything?" "Never. You killed my father. You destroyed my life.

I want you dead." The rage consumed me. I stood up, pulled out the concealed handgun he had given me for selfdefense, and pointed it straight at his head.

The moment I pulled the trigger, his bodyguard lunged at me. The bullet went wide. It tore through the down pillow right next to his head.

Feathers exploded into the air, fluttering down like the heavy snow of that longago winter.

It was a stark reminder of the two lives that stood between us. "For six years, you've done nothing but try to kill me," Ethan said, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Can we call it even now?" He waved his hand, dismissing the trembling bodyguard. "Ethan, this is the end.

Do not ever show your face to me again." Before I walked out, he slid a business card across the table. "You'll need this address."