Ditching My Cheating Finacé For My Worst Enemy

Chapter 3 : Til Hatred Do Us Part

IAN

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Aven Arden.

She’s the absolute last person I expected to see standing on my porch at midnight—completely drenched, cheeks flushed from the cold, and furiously proposing to me.

A broken laugh escapes my throat. The heiress of the Arden family just asked a Dravier to marry her. It’s ridiculous, but she’s wearing the exact same stubborn glare she had when we were fourteen, right before she nearly stabbed my hand with a fountain pen during debate club.

"Marry me."

The words replay in my head an hour later as I stand in my study, staring through the floor-to-ceiling glass wall. I hold a glass of whiskey in one hand while rain pounds against the windows hard enough to rattle them.

Honestly, I cannot decide which situation is more insane—the storm outside or the Arden heiress showing up past midnight, asking me to marry her as if she were negotiating a business deal.

The girl spent half her life acting like I personally ruined the planet. Every family dinner, every gala, every business event—she looked at me as though murder was a perfectly reasonable option.

And tonight, she drove straight to my estate, soaked and furious after catching her fiancé cheating. This might be the best thing that has happened to me in years.

Aven has always had a massive ego and acts like she is the center of the universe.

A knock interrupts my thoughts. I do not even have to turn around to know who it is.

"Come in," I say, still watching the rain.

Damien enters carrying a tablet, wearing his usual expressionless face. "Sir," Damien says calmly, "there is a slight issue in the driveway. Miss Arden did not leave peacefully."

I turn around, raising an eyebrow. "What did she do?"

"She smashed her car straight into the side of your new car before speeding through the gates," Damien reports without blinking.

"The passenger side of your car is completely destroyed."

A slow, dark smirk spreads across my face. I look down at my whiskey, a quiet laugh escaping my lips. That psychotic little creature. She actually ruined my car because I shut the door on her.

"Should I call the police, sir?" Damien asks.

No," I reply, my smirk widening. "Leave it. It is the first time that car has actually looked interesting. What else do you have for me?"

Damien adjusts his tablet, clearing his throat. "As per your request, I looked into Ethan Moretti."

I wait for him to continue. Ethan Moretti is an absolute loser and, apparently, Aven's ex-fiancé.

"We could not determine the exact timeline of the affair, but the woman's name is Vanessa Clarke."

Vanessa?..No way.

My smile grows even more satisfied. Aven hated Vanessa almost as much as she hated me. She probably never imagined she would catch her fiancé cheating with the one woman she could not stand.

Damien remains silent for a moment before asking, "What exactly is your plan here, sir?"

My gaze drifts toward the resort proposal lying open on my desk. "What is the status of the beachside acquisition?"

Damien glances at his tablet. "The owner rejected our final offer again. The property was placed under Arden Group protection three days ago."

My fingers tighten around the whiskey glass. "Who?"

"Aven Arden. She personally blocked the acquisition. Every offer goes through her division first. She also assigned Arden legal teams to the owner this morning."

I shake my head, almost impressed despite myself. Aven has always preferred setting things on fire rather than stepping aside. Most people hear the Dravier name and start calculating their chances of survival. Aven hears it and starts looking for weapons.

Damien studies me carefully. "Should I continue pushing the acquisition?"

"No." I look at the proposal again, her name printed across the file. "I think forcing Aven Arden into my office every week sounds far more entertaining than buying the property. Isn't it interesting to keep something around that bites back?".

Damien blinks, confused. "I am sorry?"

"Aven." I take another sip of whiskey. "Most people become predictable after a few years. Somehow, she became worse. Do you have her number?"

Damien nods immediately. "I can get it for you within minutes, sir."

"Do that."

He hesitates before asking, "Are you seriously considering this marriage proposal?"

My smirk turns completely dark and predatory. "If I get the chance to keep the most fascinating thing I have spent my entire life hating," I say calmly, "it would be f*****g entertaining."

______________

AVEN

Has Ian gone insane?

That is the only question running through my head during the drive to the restaurant he personally selects for this meeting. Drunk or not, asking him to marry me was a wild move.

But I never expected him to actually agree after slamming the door in my face. What changed his mind?

The restaurant comes into view. It is one of the most luxurious spots in the city, usually packed with high society. Tonight, however, the grand dining room is completely empty. He rented out the entire place just for a conversation.

That bastard really is unhinged.

The moment I step inside, the manager approaches me with a deep bow. "Miss Arden. Mr. Dravier is waiting for you in the private pavilion."

I do not bother responding. I follow him through the empty restaurant while a cold, calculated irritation grows hotter with every step. The place smells like money, control, and Ian's obsession with power. The manager opens the heavy double doors of the private room, revealing the smug bastard himself.

He is dressed in casual clothes, looking entirely too relaxed. I walk in and take a seat directly across from him.

"That proposal was a mistake," I say smoothly, leaning back in my chair. "Forget it."

He chuckles, setting down his coffee cup. "Words cannot be taken back that easily, Aven."

That infuriating, mocking expression is plastered all over his face.

"I can do whatever I want," I counter, looking him straight in the eye. "Pretend it never happened."

He scoffs, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "Pretend it never happened? You show up at my estate in the middle of the night, ask for my hand in marriage, and then smash your car straight into my brand-new car before speeding away."

"Careful," I say, my fingers wrapping around the silver fork on the table. I grip it tightly, wondering how much blood would spill if I drove the prongs straight into his throat. Why is he always so irritating?

He notices my grip on the fork and leans forward, his voice dropping. "Or what? Are you going to stab me, Miss Arden?"

"Honestly, sitting across from you makes my blood boil. Right now, I really want to kill you."

"We both know you cannot do that," he says, his gaze turning dark and predatory. "But I can give you a chance to try every single day."

I raise an eyebrow. For once, he does not sound like he is mocking me. He leans back, staring at me with a terrifyingly calm expression.

"As I said on the phone," he says softly, the toxicity practically dripping from his voice, "let's get married, Aven Arden. Let's see who destroys who first."