Chapter 1

I had been with him since I was eighteen.

From a shampoo girl at a hair salon to the head accountant at his company, from a cramped studio apartment to the luxury villa he bought.

Yet, he never once brought up marriage. I foolishly believed the time just hadn't come.

Until the new receptionist arrived. They had known each other for barely three months, and on her birthday tonight, he proposed.

His close friend couldn't bear to watch me stay in the dark and secretly sent me the location.

It turns out ten years really couldn't beat three months.

Staring at the pin drop on my screen, my hands trembled so violently I could hardly hold my phone.

When I arrived at the restaurant, the private VIP room was bustling with laughter.

I pushed the door open, and the very first thing I saw was him holding that young girl in his arms.

I picked up a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and walked right up to him.

"Congratulations."

"Thanks," he said instinctively.

But the moment his eyes focused on my face, he froze dead in his tracks.

"What... what are you doing here?"

I didn't look him in the eyes. Instead, I gently swirled the golden liquid in my flute.

"A proposal is a huge deal. Why didn't you let me know?"

Brandon's face drained of color. He reached out, trying to grab my wrist.

"Chloe, go home first. I'll explain everything later."

I pulled my arm back, my voice disturbingly calm.

"There’s nothing to explain. I was just asking."

The receptionist stood up from her seat, biting her trembling lip as she looked at me.

"Chloe, I'm so sorry... I was the one who told Brandon to keep it a secret."

Her voice was soft, fragile, laced with tears.

"I was scared you’d target me at the office. I was scared people would talk behind my back."

A cold smile touched my lips.

"Don't worry. I'm not that petty."

I locked eyes with her, letting every word drop with deliberate weight.

"Though, honestly, when someone chooses to be a homewrecker, being talked about is just an occupational hazard, don't you think?"

Her face went stark white, and a fat tear rolled down her cheek.

Brandon immediately pulled her behind him, shielding her as he glared at me, his brows knitted tight.

"Chloe, that's enough! Whatever you have to say, we talk at home."

He guarded her like she was some fragile, irreplaceable piece of porcelain.

Staring at that familiar face, I suddenly felt like I was looking at a total stranger.

Ten years. It took me an entire decade to see who he truly was.

"Fine. Keep celebrating."

I set the flute down on the table, turned around, and walked away.

Behind me, soft sobs echoed, followed by Brandon’s tender whispers as he comforted her.

I didn't turn back. Not once.

Stepping out of the hotel lobby, the cool June breeze swept over me.

I stood by the curb and hailed an Uber home.

Streetlights blurred past the car window in streaks of neon, but my mind was stuck on a loop of yesterday.

Just yesterday, I had stood before my mirror in a brand-new dress, wondering if I should finally bring up marriage over the weekend.

We had been together for ten whole years. I thought it was time to settle down.

Looking back now, it was utterly pathetic.

I was eighteen when I gave my life to him.

That year, my younger sister was diagnosed with severe kidney disease. My family went bankrupt trying to cover the medical bills, and I had to drop out of college to work as a shampoo assistant in a salon.

Brandon had walked in for a haircut. Seeing my raw, peeling hands, he said, "Kid, come work at my firm. I'll teach you."

He taught me bookkeeping from scratch, walked me through balance sheets, and showed me how to navigate the business world.

From a run-down studio to a multi-million-dollar villa, from an uneducated salon girl to a corporate accountant—it took me ten years.

Everyone used to tell me I was living a real-life Cinderella fairytale, and I almost believed them.

Except in the fairytale, the prince proposes to Cinderella.

My prince got down on one knee for someone else.

I took a deep, shaky breath and rolled the window down.

The rushing wind stung my eyes, but I didn't shed a single tear.

From this night on, Chloe and Brandon were done. Permanently.

It was past eleven when I got back.

I didn't turn on the chandelier, only leaving the warm hallway lamp on as I sat alone on the sofa.

I had lived in this luxury house for five years. I had decorated every single corner with my own hands.

I picked out the couch, measured every window for the custom drapes, and bought every plate in the kitchen piece by piece.

Yet, only Brandon’s name was on the deed.

An overwhelming wave of exhaustion crashed over me. I leaned back and shut my eyes.

My mind was a chaotic mess, flooded with memories of the past decade.