My Husband Faked Amnesia To Fire Me

My husband, Jason, faked amnesia to get his girlfriend, Brittany, promoted to vice president—and to push me out of the picture.

I overheard Brittany ask, "Aren't you worried your wife will never forgive you for this?"

Jason just shrugged. "It's just a little game. One week, and I'll say my memory's back. She can't stay mad at a sick man, right?"

I stood frozen—but said nothing.

The next day, at the board meeting, Jason slammed his fist on the table. He announced Brittany was his wife and demanded I leave the company immediately—handing over all my projects. Every employee watched, waiting for me to put a stop to his ridiculous charade.

I didn't fight back. I quietly signed the resignation papers.

What he didn't know was that the project deadline was only seven days away. And the client would only work with me—the key personnel.

In seven days, he wouldn't get what he wanted. Instead, he'd be facing a massive lawsuit—and possibly jail time.

As I turned to leave, Brittany stopped me. "You can go, but you have to delete all your client and colleague contacts. They're company property—not yours."

After years of running this company, I knew that rule didn't exist. She was targeting me personally.

I turned to Jason. "Is this your idea, too?"

He stared back coldly and nodded.

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

He was betting I wouldn't walk away. He was pushing me, hard.

And he wasn't entirely wrong.

Jason and I had been married for seven years. No kids. This company was our baby—and I'd loved it even more than he did. I'd poured everything into it. Never slacked. Never cut corners.

Just last week, he'd proposed promoting Brittany to head of tech. Most of the senior staff, eager to please him, praised her despite her obvious inexperience. The motion passed.

Only I had voted against it. I saw right through her incompetence—and didn't care about embarrassing Jason.

He knew I'd never stand for his underhanded tactics. So he came up with this absurd amnesia act—to force me out.

As we argued, some colleagues tried to smooth things over. "Mrs. Evans, please… Mr. Evans isn't himself. He's sick. As his wife, you should be more understanding."

Emboldened, Jason announced, "My wife is the queen of this company! Anyone who messes with her, messes with me!"

People chuckled. "See, Mrs. Evans? He still loves you. He's just confused."

Their envious glances didn't fool me.

The truth was the opposite.