Chapter 3

3.

After they left, I stood frozen in place for a very long time.

Across eight years of life, Chloe and I had climbed from absolute poverty to comfort.

We had eaten greasy dollar-slice pizzas together and squeezed into cheap thirty-dollar motel rooms.

Back then, she used to look at me with shining eyes: "Mason, one day we'll have a cozy home of our own."

"I'll cook warm dinners every evening and wait for you to come home from work. Wouldn't that be the best life?"

Back then, I genuinely believed we shared a future.

When my startup took off and I earned my first real profit, I bought her a luxury car without hesitation.

She was moved to tears, swearing she would never marry anyone else.

Later on, my tech venture hit the jackpot, securing a massive payout.

When she mentioned wanting to settle down in Chicago, I packed up and moved with her.

When she said she wanted to be her own boss, I transferred one hundred percent of the company shares directly to her name.

My friends had warned me: "You're crazy, Mason. You two aren't even married yet. Why hand over the entire company? Aren't you scared she'll take the money and run?"

At the time, my trust in her was absolute. I had said firmly: "She would never. She loves me, and she'll never leave me."

Now, reality had slapped me across the face with brutal force.

That evening, Chloe called my phone.

"Mason, I'm still busy with my business trip. I'll be flying home the day after tomorrow."

Her voice sounded completely normal, betraying not a single hint of guilt.

Before leaving the country, she had told me she was heading out of state for a corporate conference.

I hadn't suspected a thing, even reminding her to stay safe on the road.

Never could I have imagined she had flown to Paris behind my back to shoot bridal portraits with another man.

What did our eight years mean to her?

We were supposed to walk down the aisle next month.

"Why aren't you saying anything?"

Her voice came through the receiver again, accompanied by the faint sound of lounge jazz.

I gripped my phone tightly, standing in the shadowed corner of the hotel restaurant.

Just twenty feet ahead of me, Dylan had his arm wrapped around Chloe's waist, feeding her fresh fruit.

It was ridiculous. Absolutely, bitterly ridiculous.

"Nothing. Just thinking about work."

"Have a safe flight back."

I forced those two sentences out through clenched teeth.

"What's on your mind? Did something go wrong at the office?"

Right as she asked that, I watched her cover the phone's microphone to kiss Dylan on the mouth.

A wave of nausea hit my stomach so hard I nearly threw up on the spot.

I snapped several clear photos with my phone and said: "Yeah, ran into an issue. I met a couple and thought they were married, but it turns out the guy is just a side piece."

"Ugh, that's disgusting. I hate homewreckers more than anything."

Is that so?

I wished I could rip her chest open to see what color her rotten heart actually was.

"Don't worry, Mason. I would never betray you. I've still got work to wrap up, so I'll talk to you later."

The line went dead. Across the dining room, Dylan's hands boldly wandered underneath Chloe's shirt.

I captured every single moment on camera.

Chloe Bennett, since you love Dylan Parker with such burning passion, I will make sure the whole world sees every filthy detail on our wedding day.