I Funded His Empire, He Married Someone Else

Chapter 1

Victor Thorne and I had an agreement: the day his company went public, we'd finally go public too.

But that day, what I got wasn't a proposal. It was a private i********: Close Friends story he'd forgotten to hide from me.

"Ten years of storms, and today I finally have the right to marry my little princess."

The photo attached showed him holding hands with his first love outside a city hall overseas. On her finger sat a pink diamond, the very same one my mother had given me for my coming-of-age gift.

I was about to confront him when a text from Victor's secretary lit up my screen.

Secretary: Stella Vance, Lily Miller has been in poor health ever since she saved Victor. He's worked himself to the bone these past ten years just to pay for her treatment.

Secretary: You already have everything. Please give Victor back to her. Don't make this ugly.

So that was it. I'd hidden my identity and poured the entire Vances' resources into propping him up, lifting him from a penniless nobody into a multi-billion-dollar new-money tycoon. And in their eyes, I was just some woman trying to steal another woman's man.

I stared at my phone, let out a cold laugh, and dialed home.

"Initiate the short-selling contingency. I want Thorne Industries bankrupt on day one of trading," I said. "While you're at it, dig into that sickly first love of his. The debt she owes for stealing my place as his savior all those years ago, it's time to collect, principal and interest. And one more thing. Tomorrow night, at the Vances' gala, make sure Victor gets an invitation. I want him to see, up close, exactly what he threw away."

Less than half an hour after I hung up, the front door of the villa opened.

Victor walked in trailing an unfamiliar perfume. He didn't take off his coat, didn't try to explain the story on his feed. He went straight into the kitchen with the easy familiarity of a man coming home, and started warming a hot toddy for me.

Steam curled slowly out from the kitchen. When he came back, mug in hand, his voice was as tender as if nothing at all had happened.

"Stella, today was insane. I couldn't get back in time to celebrate with you."

He dropped to one knee beside the sofa and buried his face in my palm.

Ten years ago, he'd knelt like this too, out in the pouring rain, and said, "Stella, I want to marry you. I want you by my side forever, not a moment apart."

Back then, I actually believed him. So I lived with him in a basement apartment, ate cold buns with him, and stood by him through every failure and fresh start.

But now, the same posture, the same tenderness, was only a screen to cover another woman's shame.

My phone lit up. The secretary's text was still on the screen. Victor glanced at it. For half a second, his fingertips went stiff. Then he caught my hand and let out a low sigh.

"Lily doesn't think before she acts, and my secretary's just as bad, dragging you into it."

He started massaging my calf, his movements as practiced as any of the countless nights before. "You know how it is. Back then Lily ruined her health saving me. I owe her my life."

I looked down. Along the edge of my wrist, a faint old scar. For a moment I could feel that freezing river water pouring back into my bones, ten years later.

Meanwhile his hand held mine, and word by word, he was explaining for Lily.

"That pink diamond, it was just to give her a little dream. She isn't going to live much longer, Stella. You've always been kind. You wouldn't hold it against her."

I slowly pulled my hand back. "So signing the marriage license, that was granting her a dream too?"

Victor's face cracked for an instant. Only an instant. Then his eyes reddened, and he cupped my face, his voice low and hoarse and wounded.

"It was just a church ceremony overseas—we never filed the paperwork. It has no legal standing. My body came back to you, didn't it? Stella, Don't be so childish. Knock it off."

The moment those words landed, the whole room went quiet.

I had lived with him in a basement apartment where the ceiling leaked. To pay for the appearances at his first funding round, I'd secretly sold the watch my mother left me. To help him land his first healthcare initiative, I had begged my father on his behalf. Afraid he'd feel small next to me, I'd hidden my name, buried every trace of the Vances, and dressed up all those bitter years as something real between us.

And in the end, he told me to knock it off.

Seeing that I wasn't speaking, he softened his voice again.

"I know you won't really hold this against me. You've always been more understanding than she is."

So that was what my understanding had been for. It was the leverage he used to hurt me.

Victor stood up and rubbed his brow like a man exhausted. "I've been running day and night. I got off the plane and came straight here to see you. If you insist on making a scene, I'll sleep in the study tonight. Take some time to cool off."

Then he turned and walked away, his back thin, as if he were the one carrying some enormous loneliness.

I picked up that mug and poured it down the drain. Once the steam was gone, the bottom of the cup was clean, as though nothing had ever been in it.