Chapter 1

My name is Chloe. In our elite social circle, everyone called me the perfect fiancée.

For five years, I wore that empty title without ever demanding a wedding, a marriage license, or a penny of his wealth.

All I wanted was for Julian Sterling to donate his bone marrow to save my mother.

When he cheated with an A-list actress, I handled the press and cleared his name.

When he was caught kissing a pop idol, I bought out the footage.

When he knocked up a viral influencer, I even scheduled her prenatal appointments.

The wealthy socialites mocked me behind my back, their pity dripping with contempt:

"Chloe, you live like a stray dog begging for scraps."

I ignored them all. Until the night my mother passed away.

The Sterling Group suddenly faced a massive liquidity crisis. To save him, I auctioned off the last heirloom my late father had left me and pulled Julian out of ruin.

In return, Julian finally decided to bestow a title upon me. He casually tossed a velvet ring box onto the floor by my feet.

"Find some free time and let's get married. Consider it my thank-you."

I looked at the ring, but didn't bend down to pick it up.

"No need. It was just paying a debt. Julian, we’re through."

Hearing my words, Julian actually looked up from his paperwork—a rare sight—and stared straight at me.

"The doctors said your mother's condition is finally stabilizing. She'll be ready for the bone marrow transplant soon. You want to break up now? Are you giving up on her life?"

I didn't answer.

I only tightened my grip on the sheet of paper in my hands.

Under the bold hospital seal was my mother’s death certificate.

"Did you tell Mia Montgomery which hospital room my mother was in?"

Julian let out a faint chuckle, wearing a look of smug realization.

"And here I thought you were throwing a tantrum out of nowhere. It's about that."

"Yes, I told her. The girl heard your mother was sick and wanted to pay her respects."

"Judging by your reaction, her spoiled attitude probably rubbed your mother the wrong way. Look, I’ll drop by in a few days and explain everything to your mom myself. You don't have to—"

Before he could finish, I slammed a tabloid magazine onto his mahogany desk.

The headline blared:

[Billionaire Julian Sterling’s Pregnant New Flame Takes Center Stage; Cast-Off Ex Demoted to Maid!]

The cover showed me holding Mia’s arm as we walked out of an OB-GYN clinic.

The gossip columns were merciless.

Mia was rumored to be carrying Julian's heir.

And I—his girlfriend of five years—was painted as a desperate, money-hungry leech, running errands and acting like her servant just to stay on the payroll.

Mia had taken that very magazine to my mother's hospital room.

My mother was a retired high school teacher. She had spent her entire life standing tall on dignity and pride.

And I had snapped her spine in two.

She refused any further treatment. She gave up on living altogether.

The emergency room light glowed red all night. When they finally wheeled her out, a white sheet was pulled over her face.

I pushed the death certificate forward, inches from his hands.

"Julian, you owe me an explanation."

Julian’s patience snapped. He didn't even bother glancing down at the paper.

Frowning with irritation, he looked at me as if I were being utterly ungrateful.

"You're demanding an explanation from me? Chloe, know your place."

"We aren't even married yet. And even if we were, you don't own me. Still, since you helped bail out the company, be a good girl and pick up that ring. Once I wrap up this merger, I'll go with you to apologize to your mother."

"As for Mia, I’ll deal with her. I’m busy. Go home."

With that, Julian bent his head back over his documents.

His cold indifference pierced through me like ice.

My hand holding the certificate hung frozen in mid-air.

A bitter smile touched my lips as my mother's dying words echoed in my ears.

She had been furious.

She had raised her trembling hand and slapped me across the face with every ounce of strength left in her frail body.

Weeping with rage and disgust, she choked out:

"Our family didn't raise a spineless coward! I’d rather die!"

"I’d rather die than watch you sell your soul like a cheap whore for the world to laugh at!"

"Chloe, you sold your dignity, and worse, you fell in love with your client! Have you no shame left?!"

She was right.

Chloe, where was your shame?

I folded the death certificate, put it away, and turned to walk out.

"The ring," Julian said, not even looking up.

I paused and turned back.

He sat there with his head down, intently scanning the contract before him.

I suddenly remembered how he looked when we first started dating. Back then, his eyes carried that same intense focus:

"Your mom is my mom. What's a million dollars a year in medical bills? I can afford it!"

"Bone marrow? If she needs it, I'll donate it! Hell, I'll give her whatever she needs to survive!"

"Chloe, I'm going to make you my wife one day!"

Back then, promises were spoken so easily.

Only when love rots do you realize that sweet words all end the same way.

I looked down at the floor.

The velvet box lay open by my heels. The massive diamond sparkled brilliantly under the chandelier, dazzling and blinding.

Crack.

With a clean, sharp kick, I sent the ring box skidding across the hardwood floor.

Then, I walked out without looking back.