Married To My Rival

At my best friend's birthday party, I drank tainted wine and passed out.

When I woke up, I heard the doctor say it could cause severe nerve damage.

I teased my fiancé Cayden Hewitt, asking who I was and where I was.

He hesitated, staring at me, then called my rival Liam Hewitt. "You're Julia. He's your fiancé. You're getting married soon."

I froze, thinking he was joking too.

My best friend, Vivian Green, slipped her arm through Cayden's, looking every bit like a couple in love.

...

I had expected Cayden to laugh and say, "You're my dearest Julia, of course."

We had been together three years, the couple everyone envied.

But Cayden paused for two seconds. "Hold on."

Before I could stop him, he pushed his chair back and ran out.

He cornered the doctor, asking if alcohol poisoning could cause memory loss.

After a vague response, he did something that stunned me.

He made a call and summoned Liam Hewitt, my rival.

Before entering my room, they spoke at the door.

Probably checking through the window to see if I was asleep, Cayden didn't lower his voice. "When we go in, say you're her fiancé. She doesn't remember anything now."

My heart sank inch by inch. In Cayden's voice, I heard no worry or panic, only excitement, barely concealed glee.

"I asked the doctor. Her condition is temporary. She might recover soon," Cayden said.

Liam's deep, magnetic voice came low. "Then why drag me into this charade?"

His tone carried impatience and a chill.

He was Cayden's cousin, and we had clashed countless times, publicly and privately, each encounter a battle to tear the other apart.