Loves Quadrangle after Memory Loss

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.