Married to My Wife's Aunt After She Tried to Kill Me

I never planned to build a life with Hannah. In my mind, we were two apex predators trapped in the same cage—circling, snapping, tearing at each other. That friction was normal. Affection was not.

So when I woke with my memories reset to ten years ago—back to pure, unadulterated loathing—and discovered she'd taken a lover, I didn't feel betrayed. I felt relieved.

"I'm filing for divorce," I told my friend later that day.

"Divorce?" He stared at me like I'd grown a second head. "You? You're obsessed with her. You love her down to the bone. There's no way you'd walk away."

His certainty baffled me. According to him, Hannah treated me like a king. But I wasn't the type to be swayed by domestic servitude or superficial kindness.

There has to be a catch, I thought. Or a trap.

The next morning, I wasted no time. I drafted the divorce agreement and tossed it onto the breakfast table.

Hannah looked terrible. Dark circles bruised the skin under her eyes, her complexion sallow. She stared at the papers, jaw tightening. "I brought him home for one night, and you're already trying to divorce me?"

I looked up from my coffee, genuinely surprised. "You two were loud enough to wake the dead last night. Clearly, you enjoy each other's company. I'm just granting your wish."

My compliance only seemed to infuriate her further. She snatched the document, shredded it into confetti, and slammed me against the doorframe. Her fingers dug into my wrist with desperate, painful strength.

"Get this through your head," she hissed, her face inches from mine. "Between us, there is only widowhood. I will never be a divorcée."

I slapped her. A sharp, reflexive strike to snap her out of her hysteria. "You're delusional."

"Morning."

Dominic sauntered out of the master bedroom wearing Hannah's silk bathrobe, the belt tied loosely. His neck was a canvas of fresh, violent love bites.

"Bit stifling in here." He tugged the collar open, exposing a chest mottled with even more red marks.

He smirked, waiting for my face to crumble in jealousy or rage.

Instead, I walked over, grabbed the lapels of the robe, and yanked them shut.

"Cover up," I said flatly. "Your pecs are non-existent. Flaunt that scrawny chest and people will think we're starving you."

Dominic's smirk vanished, replaced by a flush of humiliation. He shot a wounded glance at Hannah.

She grabbed my arm immediately. "Apologize to him."

I shrugged. I'd only spoken the truth, but arguing with a cheater and her pet was beneath me. "Fine. Consider this my apology gift—take whatever you want from the house." I waved vaguely at the living room. "Pick something and get out of my sight."

Dominic's eyes narrowed. He scanned the room, then pointed at the glass display case.

"I want that."

The cabinet held limited-edition watches and heirlooms worth millions. Yet his finger hovered precisely over the platinum wedding band—the match to Hannah's.

She froze. Her breath hitched.

The Housekeeper, who'd been silently dusting, couldn't stay quiet. "Sir... that's the Young Master's wedding ring. It's precious. Perhaps Mr. Sullivan should choose something else."

I walked over, unlocked the cabinet, and pulled the ring out.

"It's fine. Take it."

To my amnesiac mind, the ring looked vaguely familiar, but it held no weight. Just a circle of metal. I had drawers full of jewelry; I wouldn't miss this one.

I tossed it through the air. Dominic caught it with a greedy grin.

Hannah stared at me, eyes wide with disbelief, as if I'd committed a capital crime. "You... you're just giving it away? Just like that?"

I blinked, confused by her intensity. "Why? Is it worth a lot?"

She searched my eyes for any sign of a lie, any flicker of pain. Finding none, she gritted her teeth. "Of course not."

She snatched the ring from Dominic's hand and slid it onto his finger herself, interlocking their fingers. "Wear it properly," she commanded, though her voice trembled.

She turned to leave, dragging him with her.

"Madam," the Housekeeper called out desperately. "Today is the Young Master's birthday."

Hannah stopped dead. I paused too. My birthday?

Dominic immediately slumped his shoulders, putting on a masterful display of grievance. "You should stay, Hannah. Accompany your husband for his birthday. I know we've been planning this cruise for months, but... I'm not important. I can go alone."

Hannah looked between us. Guilt warred with pride in her eyes. Finally, she hardened her expression.

"Dominic has been looking forward to this trip for a long time," she said coldly, refusing to meet my gaze. "We've spent plenty of birthdays together, Joel. We're not short on time. Don't be petty."

I nodded, unbothered. "Have fun."

She frowned. My indifference clearly unsettled her—she sensed something was wrong. But before she could analyze it, Dominic tugged her hand, pulling her out the door.

Once silence returned, I picked up my phone and dialed my friend.

"Forget the divorce paperwork for now," I said, all business. "I need a full audit of my assets. Walk me through every company I own."

Ten years ago, I was a man consumed by ambition. Compared to a woman with a wandering heart, I was far more interested in the cold, reliable comfort of gold and silver.