Chapter 3

3

Weston's lip curled in a smirk.

He looked at me as if I'd just told the world's most ridiculous joke.

"You've been chasing me since we were kids. Every single birthday wish was about marrying me at twenty."

"Now that you're finally twenty, you're going to tell me you'd marry someone else?"

Zoe leaned into him, her voice dripping with mockery.

"Well, with the Jensen status, I'm sure there are plenty of guys lined up to marry her."

"Even if every guy in the world wanted her, she only wants to be my wife," Weston said.

They turned to leave together.

Before exiting, Weston called out to the tailor. "Send the dress to my place. And the cufflinks―make them square, no initials."

The tailor watched them leave and sighed.

"Miss Jensen, what should we do?"

"She wants it? She can have it. I'll just design something better," I said, sitting back down. "Ignore his cufflink orders. He isn't the groom. He has no say here."

That night, I went to a friend's birthday party.

Halfway through the night, Zoe arrived late, followed by Weston's personal security.

The guard dropped a red plastic bag at my feet.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Jensen. I wanted to return your dress after the concert, but Weston was so... eager in the car."

"But everyone knows how generous you are. You don't mind, right?"

I looked down. The dress that cost three million dollars was stuffed into the bag like a wet rag.

The red silk was stained with a disgusting, sticky white fluid. It was a deliberate insult.

The people around us whispered. Some felt bad for me, but others were just enjoying the drama.

"She's being humiliated to her face and she's still so calm. She must really love Weston."

"Love doesn't help her much. Weston only has eyes for Zoe."

"The Jensen heiress is such a pathetic pushover. I bet Weston will own their whole company soon."

I looked away, signaling a waiter to take the bag and throw it in the trash.

"If Zoe enjoyed herself, that's all that matters."

My indifferent tone made Zoe's gloating fall flat. She clenched her fists and walked to the back of the room.

Soon, her social media account with millions of followers hit the trending page.

"The perfect day: a custom dress, my man's hand in mine, and a beautiful concert."

The photo showed her and Weston locked in a passionate kiss.

Predictably, gossip accounts started digging up my old posts where I'd confessed my love for Weston. They were roasting me alive.

And in the most popular video mocking me, Weston had left a 'like.'

The internet exploded. Memes about "Stella the Pushover" were everywhere.

My face went cold. I deleted my account and sent a quick text to my company's PR department.

Within ten minutes, every single trending topic about me was wiped clean.

The day before the engagement.

I went to the office in the morning, but I was intercepted by Weston's guards and forcibly taken to his villa.

The moment I walked in, I saw Zoe crying on the sofa.

Weston was whispering sweet nothings to her. He glared at me the second he saw me.

"Stella, you've gone too far. Zoe just posted a photo. Was it really necessary to get all her accounts banned? You're destroying her career!"

I was genuinely confused. "I only had the posts about me removed. I didn't do anything else."

"Liars! Who else has the power to do that but a Jensen? You're just jealous!"

"I'm not―"

As I started to argue, a sharp, condescending voice came from the stairs.

"Not even married yet and you're already defying your husband? Is this how the Jensens raised you?"

Weston's mother walked down with an arrogant air and sat across from me.

His father, who used to bow to me, was now lounging back with his legs crossed.

"Stella, we don't really like your spoiled attitude, but since you're dying to marry our son, we'll allow it."

"But we have conditions. Your dowry must be at least fifty percent of the Jensen total assets."

I felt like laughing. I shook my head to refuse.

Suddenly, a guard behind me punched the back of my knees. I gasped in pain and fell to the floor.

Weston's mother signaled a servant to bring a tea tray.

"You'll be a York soon anyway. There's no harm in serving your mother-in-law some tea early, is there?"