My Ex Lost Me, But Another Billionaire Was Waiting for Me

The St. Alden University alumni gala was held at an exclusive private club in the Upper East Side of Kingsley City. Dark walnut walls. Silver candelabras. Beyond the tall windows, Crescent Park lay soaked beneath the cold winter rain. Getting a membership there was harder than buying a supercar. And tonight, the man who had rented out the entire floor was Grant Whitmore. Three years had changed him. The arrogant heir everyone remembered had become the golden boy splashed across the cover of The Financial Ledger. As for me, I stood at the entrance with a slim black umbrella, my right knee throbbing from the drop in temperature. "I never would've guessed Evelyn would be the first one to get married." "Wasn't she crazy about Grant back in college?" "After getting kicked out by the Whitmores, she actually found someone willing to marry her. Lucky, huh?" I handed my wet umbrella to the doorman and pretended not to hear a thing. One by one, I passed out the ivory invitations embossed with delicate patterns. "The wedding's next month, on the North Shore of Grayhaven Island. I'd love for you all to come." Some accepted them with warm smiles. Some congratulated me. Others exchanged knowing looks the moment they saw the groom's name. From beginning to end, I could feel one cold gaze fixed on me. Grant sat beside the fireplace. His black suit was immaculate, not a single wrinkle in sight. The bourbon at his side hadn't been touched. As I walked over, his eyes landed on my face first. Then they slowly drifted downward. They stopped on my right knee, just for a second. Then he looked away as if nothing had happened. The next moment, he raised a hand and called over a waiter. "Turn off the AC behind her." The waiter blinked in surprise. Grant added coolly, "I'd rather not have someone pass out from an old injury at my party and ruin everyone's night." A few quiet chuckles rippled through the room. I tightened my grip on the invitations but said nothing. Back in college, every rainy day made my knees ache after dance practice. Grant always complained I was high maintenance. Yet somehow there would always be a box of pain patches and warm milk waiting backstage. He never admitted they were from him. Even now, he still remembered. But that didn't erase what he'd done. I held out an invitation. "Grant, I'd love for you to come." His jaw tightened. For a long moment, he didn't take it. Instead, the woman beside him slipped her arm through his. Selena Blake. She used to be my closest friend. She was also the one who'd looked me in the eye three years ago and told me the Whitmore family would pay me two million dollars if I disappeared from Grant's life. "Evelyn, how's your leg?" Selena asked gently. Her fingertips deliberately brushed against Grant's sleeve. "You fell so badly that night. I've always felt awful about it." I looked at her. "It still hurts when it rains." Grant's hand froze around his whiskey glass. Selena's smile only grew sweeter. "That's such a shame. Oh, you probably haven't heard. Grant and I are getting engaged." The room fell silent. My eyes dropped to the diamond ring on her left hand. It was beautiful. Five carats. Emerald cut. Grant never looked at the ring. His eyes stayed locked on the invitation in my hand. The shadow in them deepened little by little. Someone hurried to ease the tension. "Come on, that's all ancient history. Evelyn's getting married. We should be happy for her." Eventually, Grant lifted his hand. He didn't take the invitation. Instead, he pressed it back onto the table with two fingers. "Who said you could marry someone else?" Every sound in the room vanished. The smile on Selena's face froze. For a second, I honestly thought I'd misheard him. "What? I need your permission to get married?" Grant leaned back in his chair, a cold smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You took my family's money. You disappeared for three years. Now you're back pretending you're some innocent woman who's been faithful all along. Evelyn, what makes you think you deserve a clean slate with another man?" Every word cut like a knife. Yet after he finished, his gaze dropped to my pale fingers. He frowned. Someone nearby muttered under his breath. "At the end of the day, she's just Grant's castoff." "Shut up." Grant didn't even bother turning around. The man's face instantly drained of color. He stopped other people from humiliating me—only to drive the sharpest blade into my heart himself. That was Grant. He'd always believed he was the only one with the right to hurt me. I steadied my trembling hand. "What exactly are you trying to say?" Grant stared at me. The corners of his eyes were faintly red, like he was forcing something back. "Even if I throw something away... it doesn't mean someone else gets to have it." A deep, calm voice suddenly came from the head of the table. "That's enough, Grant." Adrian Voss set down his wineglass. The light caught the sharp lines of his face. His steel-gray eyes were unreadable. There was only the quiet authority of a man who'd spent years at the top. Seven years after graduation, he was already the head of Voss Group. Luxury hotels, shipping lines, tech companies, his empire stretched across Norhaven and West Elaris. No one in the room dared offend him. Grant had known Adrian since they were boys. Their relationship had always been complicated. Even Grant gave him a measure of respect. Adrian reached over and picked up my invitation, casually flipping it open. "The groom's name is Lucien Voss?" Grant let out a short laugh. There wasn't a trace of amusement in his eyes. "What a coincidence. Same last name as yours. Since when did the Voss family have someone like him?" Adrian looked at me. His gaze was quiet and steady. For some reason, it made me feel calm again. "It is quite a coincidence," he said. No one knew Lucien was the first name Adrian had ever been given. It was the name written on his birth certificate, the name recorded in the Voss family trust. Only those closest to him would call him that. Grant slowly closed the invitation. His fingers gripped it so tightly the paper nearly creased. "I'll be there." He looked straight at me, speaking one word at a time. "I want to see who exactly has the guts to marry you."