Forced to Kneel by Fiancée, I Broke Off the Engagement

Forced to Kneel by Fiancée, I Broke Off the EngagementChapter 1

My mother asked me to go home for an arranged marriage. She said the woman was the one my father had chosen for me and we had been engaged since childhood.

Helplessness filled me as I ended my three-year road trip and made the decision to meet my fiancée.

After all, she was the one my father had arranged for me before he died. If she were suitable, I would follow his will.

But when I contacted her, instead of a warm welcome, all she sent was an address. I felt unease bloom in my chest.

I arrived at the address as scheduled and found it was a business club.

Before I even entered, I was stopped.

"Sir, this club is members-only. You are not allowed in!"

When the waiter stopped me, I had no choice but to call my fiancee, Sabrina Hartwell.

But to my surprise, the moment the call was connected, her mocking voice was heard. "Hahaha, I didn't expect you to actually come!"

"Oh, come on! I'm the future heiress of the Hartwell Family. See? Our family background is totally different!”

"Listen, Adrian Walker. You're not even worthy of me!"

Sabrina’s voice taunted me from the other end of the line.

——

"Sabrina, are you saying that our engagement is off?" I asked coldly.

Frustration and disbelief weighed on me as I realized I’d ended my trip for this unexpected humiliation.

"Since you're here, let's meet!"

On the other end of the line, Sabrina had apparently spoken to a few people before saying, with a hint of sarcasm, "I'll send someone to pick you up!"

With that, she hung up.

Then, I saw a slicked-back man walk out. He walked up to me, glanced at me and a scornful smile spread across his face. "Are you Adrian Walker? I'm Miss Hartwell's assistant."

He looked at me and said, "Our young lady is a darling of heaven. She's even the richest woman in our city. You? You're not worthy of our young lady."

He sneered, "Look at how poor you are now. You don't really think our young lady will marry you, do you?"

Hearing this, I felt a mix of embarrassment and irritation as I glanced at him.

One glance told me everything—my clothes clearly displeased him and I felt a self-conscious prickle at his scrutiny.

Wandering from place to place the past few years, I hadn't bothered much with appearances. My wardrobe, having seen better days, was full of clothes that had become worn beyond recognition.