On the day of my wedding, my fiancé live-streamed his proposal to my cousin. The two of them eloped right then and there, leaving me behind to become the infamous jilted bride.
Lost and desperate, Brian Rocha, the wealthiest man in Harbor City, stepped onto the stage and knelt before me on one knee.
“Angela Duncan, I fell in love with you the moment I saw you at the Gala Auction. Will you marry me?”
I politely declined, but he refused to back down. From that moment on, he pursued me relentlessly. On my birthday, he went so far as to spend millions renting every advertisement screen in the city, all to boldly profess his love for me. Three years later, I finally agreed to his proposal.
That day, I became the woman everyone envied, the one who must have saved the galaxy in her past life to deserve a man like him. But on the eve of our engagement, I overheard him talking to his friends and it shattered everything.
“You’re crazy, man, spending tens of thousands of dollars buying a building for your first love. As a friend, I just want to remind you that she’s already married to your fiancée’s ex.”
“As long as she’s happy. I’d do anything for Laurel. I’d even die for her,” Brian replied, his voice filled with sadness. Longing was also evident in his tone.
It turned out that his struggle to win me over all this time was just a façade. He didn’t really want to be with me; he only wanted to be close to Laurel, making sure she was always happy through me.
My heart broke into a thousand pieces. That night, I decided to disappear from this world.
——
“So don’t let your people tell Angela anything about me and Laurel,” Brian ordered in a confident tone.
“They wouldn’t dare let slip even a word about Laurel in front of Angela,” someone replied.
I froze at the doorway, gripping the thermos tightly in my hands. Tomorrow was supposed to be our engagement party. Just three hours ago, Brian had called, claiming he was busy with work and told me to get an early night. Feeling sorry for him, I decided to surprise him with a warm bowl of soup I’d made. The surprise I had prepared for him backfired, hurting me deeply.
Everything I thought we had together—our love, our happiness—was nothing more than an illusion Brian had created for me.
Memories of our time together flashed through my mind like a cruel reel of film.
When he filled the city with love billboards, he’d said, “Angela, this is just the first step in winning your heart.”
When we traveled the world, he’d said, “Angela, I’ll show you everything the world has to offer.”
When he knelt by the seaside and proposed to me, he’d said, “I love you, Angela. Please marry me.”
Now, my vision blurred with tears. Reaching up to wipe my face, I realized I had already started crying.
A message popped up on my phone.
It was from a client recommended by a senior colleague, asking if I could go to Dubai to handle their asset planning. If this had been before, I would’ve turned them down without a second thought.
But now...
The voices in the office stopped. A deathly silence fell. I didn’t know whether to leave or stay when a flustered woman stepped out of the office.
It was Brian’s secretary.
“Miss Duncan, what a surprise. When did you get here?” she asked nervously.
I forced a smile and lifted the thermos in my hand. “Just now. I came to bring Brian some soup.”
She let out a relieved breath and opened the office door for me. When Brian saw me, he hurried over to take the thermos.
“It’s cold outside. What if you catch a chill?” he scolded gently.
The secretary handed him the remote and he turned up the heat, then fetched a blanket to drape over my shoulders.
I curled up in a corner of the couch, wrapped in warmth, yet I still felt an unbearable coldness seep into my bones.
Brian’s friends and secretary bid us farewell with polite smiles, but I finally understood what their smiles truly meant.
Every time they had smiled like that before, I thought they were teasing Brian for being humble and devoted to me, despite his towering status as a CEO.
Now I knew—they were laughing at me.
Brian looked at me anxiously.
“Are you cold?” he asked softly.
Chapter 2I shook my head softly. “I’m fine. You should have the soup first.”
Brian looked momentarily puzzled but obediently lifted the thermos, finishing the soup in one go. His amber eyes gleamed with a mixture of warmth and urgency and his lips, flushed pink from the warm broth, glistened in the soft light.
He held up the empty container with a boyish grin and said, “Finished it.”
Taking my hand, Brian led me into the private lounge connected to his office. His voice was tender, almost reverent.
“Thank you for the soup. Why don’t you take a little rest?” He coaxed me onto the large bed in the room, tucking me under the thick, luxurious comforter. Then he settled in beside me, pulling me into his arms. His chin rested lightly on the top of my head, his embrace firm and reassuring.
“Still cold?” he murmured against my hair.
I gave a faint hum of acknowledgment, closing my eyes to the comforting sound of his heartbeat. Time seemed to blur as I lay there, cocooned in his warmth. But soon, the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing told me he had fallen asleep.
The dim glow of his phone lit up on the nightstand, drawing my attention. Curiosity got the better of me. I was curious, so I fished it out of the bed and saw that it was a text from his assistant. I put the password, but it didn’t work. The password Brian set for his phone had always been either my birthday or his. I flipped the phone over, inspecting the back, but there was no sign of the dent I had left on his usual phone. This wasn’t the one he normally used.
Since neither my birthday nor his worked, I tried another combination. Maybe he had set it to our engagement day, but that turned out to be incorrect as well.
I sat frozen in frustration, unsure of what to do next. Then, Laurel’s name suddenly crossed my mind. I started testing a series of dates tied to her birthday. After several failed attempts, the phone finally unlocked.
Unconsciously, I smiled—a mix of pride and sadness washing over me. It seemed this was the phone he used to communicate with Laurel.
I glanced at a notification from his assistant. The message read: [Mr. Rocha, the transfer deed for the beachfront tower is finalized.]
There was a file attached beneath it. I clicked on it and the owner’s name was displayed clearly—Laurel Gibbs.
I scrolled through more messages. Estate documents, deeds for mansions, limited-edition sports cars—everything pointed to an unimaginable truth. The hundreds-thousand-dollar beachfront tower was just one of countless extravagant gifts Brian had showered on Laurel.
The earliest record was a will. It says that after his death, all of his inheritance would go to Laurel.
The screen dimmed after being idle for too long and in the sudden reflection, I saw my own lifeless eyes and tear-streaked, reddened nose staring back at me.
I was a renowned financial planner, celebrated in my field. Yet here I was, blindsided by a truth that should have been obvious. I had been managing Brian’s wealth for years, yet I had no idea that the majority of it was siphoned off to someone else. It was as if my reflection was laughing at me.
Then, a detail in the messages caught my eye: a photo of a certificate for an engagement ring.
I froze.
It was the same ring I had fallen in love with when we were picking out wedding bands. Back then, Brian had dismissed it with a strained smile.
“My wife-to-be deserves something bigger, something flashier. This one is too plain,” he’d said.
The store clerks had gushed about how lucky I was to have such a generous fiancé. Wanting to make him happy, I chose another ring—a more extravagant one—even though my heart was set on the simpler design.
Three days ago, Laurel had posted a live photo on her social media feed. No caption. But in the image, there it was—the understated ring on her finger.
I played the audio embedded in the live photo, my hands trembling. The noise of the crowd nearly drowned out the voices, but Brian’s words rang clear as day:
“I knew you’d love it.”
The realization hit me like a freight train. It was just an excuse. He didn’t want it for me because he wanted to give it to her.
My fingers clenched around the phone, my nails digging into my palm as my chest heaved with silent sobs. When I finally looked down, my knuckles were white and the phone screen was dim again.
Returning it to the nightstand, I made my decision.
By tomorrow, I would be gone. I booked a one-way ticket to Dubai on my phone, ensuring my exit from Brian’s carefully constructed world.
The next morning, Brian had already left.
His secretary entered the room, carrying a tray with toiletries and a polite smile.
“Good morning, Miss Duncan. Mr. Rocha left last night. He had an urgent business trip. He also asked me to inform you that the engagement party will be postponed for two days.”
I nodded absently, staring out the window as the sun rose over the city. Two days. He wouldn’t find me by then. By the time he returned, I would be gone. Vanished from his world forever.
Chapter 3
I rubbed my eyes, exhaustion weighing me down.
“Just leave them there,” I said, my voice listless.
My phone chimed, signaling a new update on social media. Curious, I tapped into it.
Laurel had posted a video.
In it, she stood on the deck of a yacht, fishing in a bikini. A man’s arms wrapped snugly around her slim waist from behind. Even from the shaky footage, I recognized the watch on his wrist—it was the birthday gift I had given Brian last year.
The location tag read Thailand. A dull ache spread through my chest, sharp and relentless. So, the reason Brian postponed our wedding wasn’t because of work. It was to accompany the woman he truly cherished on a fishing trip.
I went through the motions of washing up, then booked a cab back to the villa to pack my things. Just as I was zipping up my suitcase, the bridal brand Brian had arranged for stopped by to deliver a wedding dress sample.
“Delivery for Laurel Gibbs. A custom-made gown from Mr. Rocha. Congratulation for your wedding, Miss Gibbs,” the delivery person announced brightly.
I froze for a moment, staring at the garment bag they held. It bore the unmistakable logo of MN’s high-end bridal collection. The gown Brian had picked for me during our trip to MN’s headquarters was merely a limited-edition runway piece. This, however, was a bespoke masterpiece, crafted with precision and care. The difference wasn’t just in the craftsmanship—it was in intention.
I forced a bitter smile. “Thank you, but I’m not Laurel.”
The delivery person looked at me, confused. Their expression shifted as realization dawned. They stammered out a series of apologies before scurrying away, clearly embarrassed.
As I watched the delivery crew leave, I caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of my eye. Brian had just returned—and Laurel was with him.
“Hi, Cousin, how are you? It’s great to see you!” she greeted me with overflowing enthusiasm. Yet, I could sense the insincerity in her tone as she continued, “I was planning to drop by and, I bumped into your fiancé in the parking lot. So, we walked here together. I hope you don’t mind.”
The way she pressed on “don’t mind” was a deliberate dig.
Brian frowned slightly, seemingly annoyed by the way she addressed him as my fiancé.
I forced a smile. “Of course not.”
Why would I mind? I’d be leaving soon anyway. Brian didn’t love me, so whether I cared or not didn’t make a difference.
I didn’t want to waste my time chatting with them, so I headed upstairs to my room. I left the door open as I began packing.
Brian appeared moments later, leaning against the doorframe. He walked toward me, hands in his pockets, then pulled out a ruby necklace with a gemstone the size of a pigeon egg.
“It’s, um, peace offering. Will you forgive me?”
He thought I was upset because he had postponed our engagement party. That wasn’t it at all. I was tired of his charade. Tired of seeing him force himself to love me.
When I said nothing, Brian unfastened the necklace and slipped it around my neck.
“The company is hosting a celebration tonight. Come with me,” he said.
“I can’t,” I replied, pushing my suitcase past him. “I have plans.”
“You wouldn’t want your fiancé to show up at the party with another woman on his arm, would you? Besides, there’ll be a lot of big names in the industry tonight. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”
I hesitated, releasing the handle of my suitcase.
This trip to Dubai… it could be a one-way ticket. I might never return. Maybe I should use this as a chance to say goodbye to some of my former colleagues.
I nodded slightly.
Brian’s mood immediately lifted. He called for a makeup artist and stylist to come upstairs.
An hour later, I emerged in a floor-length, couture gown with an elegant train, the ruby necklace resting against my collarbone.
When Brian saw me, his eyes lit up as he opened the car door. “You look beautiful!”
Just as I stepped toward Brian’s car, Laurel pushed past me, lifting the hem of her dress dramatically.
“This gown is too big to fit in that small car. Can we switch, Angie?” Laurel asked, her voice dripping with sweetness. The ruby necklace she wore—far larger and more radiant than mine—caught the sunlight, sending dazzling reflections that felt almost mocking.
I glanced at my own necklace, its delicate chain and modest pendant suddenly looking like a trinket from a clearance sale.
“My dress is big too,” I replied in a cold tone, refusing to give in to her petty games.
Laurel pouted dramatically, leaning closer to Brian. “But I get carsick. I need a bigger car,” she whined, her voice soft and pitiful as if she were some fragile creature in need of protection.
Chapter 4She pouted, her lips trembling slightly as she looked at Brian with feigned innocence. Brian gave me a doting smile, but his hand moved behind his back to reassure her. I watched their interaction in silence, a cold laugh echoing in my mind. Did he not realize how obvious he was?
Brian gently reached for my hand, his tone laced with that all-too-familiar coaxing. “Come on, honey. It’s just a seat. Let her have it. After all, she’s your cousin. Switch with her, okay?”
His voice was laced with tenderness, his eyes filled with an affection that seemed reserved for me. Yet his words defended another woman.
I gave him a faint smile, lifting my gown as I walked toward the car in the back. “Fine,” I said coolly. At least this way, I wouldn’t have to endure the sight of him pretending anymore.
The banquet hall buzzed with conversation as people milled about in their finest attire. Laurel was already holding a glass of red wine, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she approached me.
“Oh, Angie,” she said with a mocking lilt, “how could you be so sloppy? Look at your dress. It’s all wrinkled. Couldn’t you have at least ironed it before wearing it?”
I ignored her, turning toward the dessert table to pick out a small cupcake. I hadn’t had breakfast and my stomach was growling. At this point, satisfying my hunger was far more important than engaging with her nonsense.
But Laurel wasn’t done. She followed me, “Do you think I’m just going to steal your man?” Her tone dripped with smug satisfaction.
I took a bite of the cupcake, glancing at her with mild curiosity. Her lips curled into a sly smile. “Stay and watch. It’s just the beginning.”
The host took the stage moments later, announcing the award for Outstanding Performance. Laurel’s name was called. Laurel stood gracefully on stage, her lively demeanor engaging Brian with a knowing look.
The eyes of everyone in the room shifted between the three of us. I could feel pity as their gaze landed on me.
On the screen, Laurel’s track record began to roll through, showcasing her accomplishments.
A client named Mr. Kumar, whose asset management returns had exceeded 20%, was hailed as a miracle in the industry.
The crowd gasped in admiration.
“She is so amazing!”
“The last person to be this impressive was Mr. Rocha’s fiancée, the legendary Miss Duncan!”
“You call that legend? Her best was only 15%, while Laurel’s hit 20%. Now, that’s a legend.”
She may have stolen my man, but I didn’t care. Because any man who could be stolen wasn’t worth having! But stealing the achievements I’d worked so hard for? That, I couldn’t tolerate.
Anger surged through me as I stormed up to the stage, grabbing the microphone from the startled host.
“Breaking industry records with a 20% return rate? I’m sure the audience would love to hear how you did it, Laurel,” I said, my voice steady but icy.
Laurel froze, caught off guard by my direct challenge. “I… uh… well…” she stammered, her eyes darting toward Brian for help.
He quickly stepped in, his tone firm but measured. “That’s confidential. We’re not at liberty to disclose it to public.”
I let out a dry laugh, unfazed by his attempt to deflect. “Confidential? Then let me ask you this, Laurel. Do you know what industries Mr. Kumar’s assets are tied to? Do you know his full name? How he built his wealth?”
The rapid-fire questions left her visibly rattled, her confident facade crumbling as she struggled to form a coherent response.
“Y-you…,” she stuttered, her voice trembling, “are you accusing me?”
Before I could respond, she suddenly swayed, collapsing toward me with an exaggerated cry. We tumbled to the ground, a chaotic mess of tangled limbs and fabric. Laurel clutched her ankle, her face contorted in pain.
“Why did you push me, Angie?” she wailed, her voice carrying through the hall. “My ankle… it hurts so much!”
The microphone, now lying at her feet, amplified her words, ensuring everyone heard her accusation loud and clear.
Disdainful murmurs rippled through the crowd as all eyes turned on me. I met their judgmental stares head-on, refusing to flinch.
Brian rushed to the stage, his face a mask of concern. But before he could reach us, the platform beneath us groaned ominously. A second later, it gave way.
Laurel screamed, clutching at the nearest steel beam as debris rained down around us.
“Brian! Save me!” she shrieked, her voice shrill with terror.
Amid the chaos, I glanced at my wrist, now bleeding from a deep gash where a sharp edge had sliced through my skin.
Blood was everywhere.
I’ve been terrified of blood since I was a child and the sight of it now made me freeze in panic. My instinct was to run, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate.
Brian pushed aside a steel beam and crawled toward us. Relief surged through me and I instinctively called out to him for help.
“Brian, I’m here! Help me!”
His focus, however, was entirely on Laurel. He hurriedly picked her up, sparing me only a brief glance.
“If you hadn’t caused a scene, Laurel wouldn’t have been trapped. And now you’re asking me for help? Shame on you!” he snapped.
The pretense was gone; he didn’t even bother to hide his disdain for me in this life-and-death moment.
Trembling, I held up my bleeding hand. “Brian, my hand is bleeding. If I don’t get to a hospital soon, I might die. Please, take me first to the hospital.”
For a fleeting moment, hesitation crossed his face. But then Laurel clung to his shirt, her voice weak.
“Brian, it hurts…”
He immediately shifted his attention back to her, his expression filled with panic. “I know, I’m sorry. But it’s going to be okay. We’ll get you to the hospital. You’re going to be okay.”
Brian turned and started walking away with her in his arms.
Fear overtook me as I stumbled after him, tears streaming down my face. “Brian, please! I’m scared. Take me to the hospital!”
He didn’t even look back, his pace quickening as he carried Laurel to safety. She glanced over his shoulder, meeting my desperate gaze with a cruel smirk. Though she didn’t speak, her lips silently formed the words: “Left again. Poor, Angie.”
Their figures disappeared into the distance, leaving me behind.
I collapsed onto the ground, my body weak and trembling. Being abandoned wasn’t my fault, but I couldn’t abandon myself. Summoning all my strength, I pushed the heavy steel beam off me, ignoring the searing pain in my injured hand. After what felt like an eternity, I managed to free myself.
I made it to the hospital on my own. What should have been a simple five-stitch wound turned into an eighteen-stitch ordeal because the flesh had been torn further when I moved the beam. As I sat in the sterile hospital room, anger and resolve swirled within me.
On the way to the airport, I hired a private investigator at an exorbitant cost. I instructed them to prepare a fake corpse and erase every trace of my existence. I wanted to disappear from Brian’s world entirely.
As the airport speakers announced the final boarding call for the flight to Dubai, I stood at the gate with my suitcase. Taking one last look at the city I once called home, I whispered, “Goodbye, Brian.”