He Played a Game, I Quit Him

Chapter 3

I dragged my suitcase out of that apartment without so much as a backward glance.

I headed straight for my parents' place.

Ever since I'd agreed to marry Evan, the smile had practically been glued to my mom's face. The second she saw me walk through the door, she bustled over to snatch my luggage. "I always told you, Mr. Lucent is the real deal. We've watched him grow up since he was in diapers, we know him inside and out. If you marry him, your dad and I won't have a single worry in the world."

Evan and I had been thick as thieves since we were in diapers ourselves.

Our moms were besties, and they used to joke about arranging a betrothal while we were still in the womb.

If I hadn't met Coby in college, I'd probably have married Evan ages ago.

I knew he'd always had a thing for me, too.

This time, when Coby's company hit a cash flow black hole and he was backed into a corner, I was the one who swallowed every ounce of pride and went to Evan, begging him to throw Coby a lifeline with a business deal.

He stayed quiet for a long, heavy moment, but in the end, he gave a slow nod.

Looking back now, I was a complete and utter fool.

After dinner, I holed up in the study to sort through my handover files. My phone buzzed.

A w******p message from Coby.

Coby: Coming home late. Don't wait up.

I stared at those words, then deleted his entire chat thread without a second thought.

By the time I finished sorting everything, it was past ten. I washed up, flopped onto the bed, and casually tapped open my i********: feed.

The very first post was an update from Elaine, posted half an hour ago.

The photo was snapped in the living room of our apartment. Coby and his buddies had their arms slung around each other's shoulders, in the middle of a rowdy drinking game, a sea of empty bottles littered the table.

The caption read: He called me "princess" right in front of his friends. Was he just messing with me, or does he actually treat me like a kid?

The comments underneath were a total frenzy of teasing—everyone gushing about how President Rourke was spoiling her rotten, how they were shipping them so hard it hurt.

I fixed my gaze on the screen for a couple of seconds, then calmly tapped out of the app.

No sadness. Not a flicker of anger.

Eight years of love had already been incinerated—completely, down to the last ember—the moment he stood by and let his colleagues brand me a homewrecker.

Suddenly, a new w******p message popped up.

It was from Evan.

Evan: Hey, you free tomorrow? The bridal shop says the custom gown's been altered. Want to swing by and try it on?

I shot back a simple…

Me: Sure.

The next day, Evan rolled up bright and early to pick me up. My mom beamed as she saw me off, and even pressed two boxes of his favorite pastries into my hands.

In the car, I scratched the back of my head sheepishly and said, "Could you hold onto that Lucent Group contract for me? I'm thinking of jumping to a new company, and I want to use it to kick things off with a real bang."

He glanced sideways at me, a smile tugging at his lips. "Why not just come work for me directly?"

"I think it's better to keep business and personal life separate, don't you?" I grinned back.

At the bridal shop, the sales assistant swept toward us with a dazzling smile, cradling a custom gown that looked absolutely ethereal.

"Mr. Lucent personally made sure we adjusted it three times to fit your exact measurements. You're going to look absolutely breathtaking."

I slipped into the gown and stood before the mirror, frozen for a long, long moment.

Back when I used to stroll past bridal shops with Coby, if I so much as stole an extra glance, he'd always promise to design me a one-of-a-kind dress someday—just be patient, he'd say.

I waited eight years. I never saw that gown he promised.

Instead, here I was, wearing the one Evan had custom-made just for me.

"How about a photo for your i********:?" Evan's voice came from behind me, soft as silk.

I nodded and handed my phone to the assistant. "Could you take a picture of us together, please?"

He froze for a heartbeat, then his whole face lit up with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. He stepped quickly to my side, tilting his head gently against my shoulder.

The photo turned out beautifully.

I uploaded it to i********: and started tapping out the caption: Next Saturday, at Cloudtop Grand Hotel, come celebrate my wedding to Evan—you're all invited!

Barely a minute after posting, the comments section exploded.

A: [Whoa! That's President Lucent of Lucent Corporation? You really kept this under wraps, You!]

B: [And whoever said she was chasing after President Rourke? Guess they're eating their words now! President Lucent leaves Rourke in the dust!]

I was scrolling through the comments when my phone suddenly rang.

It was Coby.

I answered, and his drunken mockery cut through, sharp and grating. "Aurelia, you're something else. To force me into marriage, you actually got Evan to play along with your little act? You really stop at nothing for a title, don't you?"

I was about to speak, but Evan suddenly reached over and took my phone, putting it on speaker.

His voice was calm, yet it carried an unmistakable authority as it came through the phone. "President Rourke, Aurelia and I are truly getting married. She waited for you for eight years. I've waited for her for twelve. Thank you for not marrying her."

The other end of the line fell into a deathly silence.

After a few long seconds, Coby's frantic roar shattered the silence.

"Impossible! Aurelia, talk to me!"