Love, Amnesia, and Lies

My husband pretended to lose his memory in a car accident just to fulfill his young girlfriend's wish to become vice president—and to strip me of my position.

As I passed by, I accidentally overheard her whisper to him, "Since you agreed to let me borrow the title for seven days, can I borrow you for seven days too?"

He smiled and leaned down to kiss her lips. "Of course. Use me however you like."

I stopped in my tracks but did not expose his lie.

The next day, at the conference table, he slammed his hand down and declared that his girlfriend was his real wife. He ordered me to get out of the company and hand over all my projects.

Every employee turned to look at me, waiting for me to put a stop to his outrageous performance.

But I didn't resist. I simply signed the resignation agreement.

What he didn't know was that the project's submission deadline was only seven days away—and the client would recognize no one but me as the core person in charge.

"You can leave, but you must delete all your clients' and coworkers' contact information. Those are company resources. You're not qualified to take them with you!"

Just as I was about to walk out, my husband's young girlfriend, Lisa Marcell, blocked my path.

After managing the company for years, I knew perfectly well there had never been such a rule. She was deliberately targeting me.

I turned to my husband, Anthony Pickett. "Is this what you want too?"

Anthony stared at me in a daze for a moment, then nodded coldly.

If I really deleted those contacts, there would be no turning back.

He was certain I wouldn't bear to leave, which was why he dared to be so ruthless.

It wasn't strange for him to think that way. We had been married for seven years and never had children.

The company was like our child, and I loved it even more than he did. I woke before dawn and worked late into the night, chasing deals and handling business with meticulous care, afraid to waste even a minute.

Last week, at a meeting, he proposed promoting Lisa directly to head of the technical department.

The old-timers in the company did him a favor. Against their better judgment, they offered a few hollow compliments and approved it.

Only I, after reviewing Lisa's performance and finding her completely unqualified, vetoed his proposal outright—without giving Anthony any face.

He knew very well that I would never allow him to act recklessly in the company.

So this time, to grant Lisa her wish, he even staged a ridiculous amnesia act—just to force me to submit.

When our argument broke out, colleagues rushed over to mediate.

"Ms. Campbell, calm down. Mr. Pickett is sick. As his wife, when he's this fragile, you should be more understanding and tolerant."

Their words emboldened Anthony. He said solemnly, "My wife is everything. In this company, whoever goes against