I am lying in a hospital bed without any recollection of the last six months. My head is aching, my ribs are shattered, and nothing is making sense. Then my sister informs me that I am married. To a man I don't remember. To a man who stares at me as though I have betrayed him in some way. Konstantin Volkov is detached and chilled. He barely touches me. He presents me with a contract and says that we were only doing business in marriage- that is all. I wanted money, he wanted a wife. Simple. Clean. Done. However, I discovered love letters in a secret box. My own handwriting and pages of me pouring my heart out to this man. Memories I can't access. A life I can't remember living. And when I question him why, all comes to pieces. A physician comes in with a horrified appearance. He confesses something that alters everything. I did not lose my memories in the accident. Someone took them from me. Someone paid him to erase me. And that one is the man I married. The man I seemingly loved with all my heart. Now I have to decide. Do I believe the cold, remote stranger he is now? Or do I flee the man who robbed my own mind? And above all, what shall I find when I shall at last recall the truth? What am I missing? What was so dreadful that I saw it that somebody wanted it to be forgotten?