Let's Get Married Again, My Unknown Wife

Inside a dimly-lit hotel suite, Alison Conley, panting, raised her head and clung limply to the man on top of her, her fingers digging into his back, leaving a trail of intimate red marks.

Later on, as dawn broke and the sound of running water echoed from the bathroom, Alison's eyes fluttered open. Fragments of the previous night returned to her-she had been drugged with some kind of aphrodisiac and ended up sleeping with a drunk man.

His handsome face lingered in her memory, a face she felt she had seen before.

As she was gathering her bearings, the water stopped, and then the bathroom door creaked open.

A tall man stepped out with nothing but a bath towel wrapped low around his waist. Water dripped from the strands of hair on his forehead, trailing down his chiseled torso and meandering into his V-line. In a word, he looked like a seductive Greek god.

Alison propped herself up, wincing as her sore body ached, and stared at the man's perfectly handsome face. Suddenly, her heart skipped a beat.

Shit! How could it be him? No wonder he looked so familiar!

The man before her was none other than her husband, Nicholas Bowman. He had gone abroad two years ago, since the beginning of their marriage.

However, while she clearly recognized Nicholas, he seemed to have no recollection of who she was.

Ironic, indeed.

When Alison was only fifteen, her father had passed away, and soon after, her mother remarried. Then, her half-brother, Samuel Powell, was born, adding another layer to her complicated life.

In the year of her graduation, Alison's life took a turn for the worse. Her stepfather's business hit rock bottom, forcing them to seek help from the influential Bowman family. Geoffrey Bowman, the formidable patriarch, seized the opportunity to bring up the long-forgotten arranged marriage between their families, using it as a condition before offering any financial support.

Alison's stepsister, defiant and headstrong, flat-out refused the arranged marriage and fled, leaving chaos in her wake.

Desperation drove Alison's mother to push her forward, insisting that she would make a good match for Nicholas.

At that time, Geoffrey was gravely ill, and he yearned to see his grandson wed before kicking the bucket. He pulled every string to ensure the marriage happened.

However, the ever stubborn Nicholas despised the idea of a wife being forced upon him. He even sent his assistant, Joshua Fletcher, to handle the marriage registration, avoiding Alison throughout the whole process.

As soon as the marriage became official, Nicholas left for a business venture abroad, leaving Alison with nothing but a promise-that after two years, they would get a divorce.

Two years had passed. Alison had caught wind that Nicholas had returned from abroad, but never expected their first encounter would be in bed.

"You'd better keep your mouth shut." As Nicholas spoke, he gestured at the check on the bedside table.

A check to buy her silence? Alison fumed silently. This man was humiliating her.

On ordinary days, she would catch fleeting glimpses of him on television. He always appeared untouchable, exuding an air of aristocratic elegance, as if the mundane troubles of the world could never reach him.

Two years ago, he had left before even seeing his wife, making Alison the town's laughingstock.

Anger and a flicker of vengeful resolve burned within Alison. Clenching her fists, she suddenly felt determined to shatter his facade and watch him crumble in embarrassment.

Alison rose gracefully from the bed, draping a loose bathrobe around her shoulders. She flipped her hair back with a flourish and let out a playful whistle at Nicholas, calling his attention. Then, she plucked the check from the bedside table and tore it in half, tossing the pieces into the trash can.

This action was undoubtedly a provocation to Nicholas.

Sure enough, Nicholas' expression darkened. His eyes locked onto hers as he asked in a dangerously low voice, "What? Was that amount not enough for you?"

Alison's lips curled into a mocking smirk. "Last night was just a game between adults. No need to try and buy my silence."

She paused, her smile turning seductive. "What's the matter, sir? Can't handle the stakes?"

Nicholas' expression turned even more sinister. With a slight, menacing smile playing at the corners of his mouth, he looked like Satan incarnate, exuding an icy aura that sent shivers down her spine.

Nicholas was notoriously ruthless, and it was no secret that those who crossed him never met a good end.

Despite the fear creeping in, Alison plucked up the courage to step forward, even going so far as to jab a finger at Nicholas' chiseled chest. "To be honest, I was quite satisfied with your performance last night. Are you offering a monthly package? Name your price."