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My Soccer Star Ex Wants Me Back？Take It Up With My Billionaire Husband
Novelix
Completed
For five years, I've been the secret girlfriend of Preston Fisher, the world's most famous soccer star. Three Premier League titles. Zero jerseys for me. Every trophy, he kisses his ""lucky fan"" on live TV — the same woman, every single time. Then I overhear him laughing about me in the tunnel. ""Damaged goods. She won't leave."" Watch me, Preston. I cancel the wedding, empty our apartment, and board a one-way flight to Paris. A month later, I have my own fashion studio — and a billionaire client who's been in love with me since high school. Preston flies to Paris begging. But I don't wait to be chosen anymore. I choose myself.
Chapters (3)
第1章
I've been secretly dating the famous soccer star Preston Fisher for five years.
In that time, he's won three straight Premier League titles.
Every time he wins, the club lets him draw a lucky fan to receive his match-worn jersey and a kiss.
I pray every time that he'll draw me.
But every single time, his “luck” somehow lands on Sabrina Hall, the team operations manager.
This year, the club has changed the rules.
No more random draw. He gets to invite whoever he wants.
So I finally ask.
"I've never gotten one of your jerseys," I say. "This year… will you pick me?"
"Our wedding's coming up. I want to stand next to you on that field."
Preston smiles and says ok.
Before kickoff, I sneak down to the players' tunnel to cheer him on.
That's when I hear one of his teammates, voice low.
"Pres, man, you seriously gonna throw the game? You rigged the earlier draws to make sure Sabrina got picked, fine. But now that you get to choose who to invite, you’d rather lose the match than invite Lena?"
Preston's voice is casual.
"This way Sabrina keeps her 'lucky fan' title, and I keep Lena quiet. Best of both worlds. Besides, Lena can't even tell what offside is. She doesn't deserve my number nine."
"Aren't you scared she'll walk out on you?"
He scoffs.
"She threw herself at me to marry me. Wedding's around the corner. She's not going anywhere. And if she did, who'd want her? Damaged goods."
Best of both worlds.
Damaged goods.
The words are blades, straight into my chest.
I clamp a hand over my mouth and let the tears fall.
Fine, then.
I don't want your jersey anymore.
...
The stadium erupts.
The commentator's screaming, "Champions again! King Fisher still reigns!"
I see it clearly.
Preston ghosts through the whole game, misses an open net on purpose.
But he still wins.
The jumbotron zooms in.
He walks straight to the VIP box and personally leads Sabrina down onto the field.
The second he takes her hand, his eyes go soft.
Two girls next to me squeal.
"Oh my God, they're so cute! Are they dating?!"
"Look at the way he's looking at her. That would melt anyone."
My eyes start to burn.
Five years together. Outside of a few close friends, nobody even knows we exist.
Sabrina's been his team operations manager for three years. And for three years, he's played favorites with her right in front of everyone.
She says she doesn't want to do rehab alone — he leaves me behind and drives to the training center to be with her.
She says she wants to collect his number nine — so I never get one.
When I ask, he brushes me off.
"Jerseys are sponsor property. They get auctioned for charity. Can't just hand them out."
Down on the field, the announcer's voice drops low and teasing. "And now — Preston Fisher will invite his lucky fan, for the jersey and the kiss!"
The whole stadium holds its breath.
Preston lazily lifts his eyes, scans the crowd, and lands on me.
My fingers curl tight. A last, trembling flicker of hope.
Then his gaze drifts right past me. He turns to Sabrina and gestures.
"My lucky fan — come on up."
Sabrina looks stunned, her eyes filling with tears as she takes his hand.
"The honor's mine."
My phone buzzes.
Let Sabrina have this one. After the wedding, when we're public, you can take your pick — I'll give you a whole closet of jerseys.
Wait again.
Wait for practice to end. Wait for the trophy. Wait for the wedding.
I've waited five years.
Staring at the screen, my throat closes up like it's stuffed with cotton.
The crowd howls. Preston peels off his number nine in front of everyone, drapes it over Sabrina's shoulders, and leans in to kiss her temple.
Fireworks go up. He doesn't hesitate — he pulls her straight to the center circle.
The stadium goes dead quiet for one beat.
A beat of silence — then the whole place erupts.
The center circle here is famous as the confession spot.
The legend says: accept love here, and you'll end up together.
Every broadcast camera swings in. Reporters flood the field.
"Preston, did you know that's the confession circle?!"
"Sabrina, are you two dating?!"
"Come on, everyone wants to know!"
Under the flashing lights, Sabrina lowers her head shyly, as if she's just admitted they're together.
My breath catches. I stare at Preston.
He laughs, easy, careless. Doesn't deny a thing.
The place goes wild. Cheers, screams, phones in the air.
Guys!! The couple I've shipped for three years is REAL!
I drop my eyes. The last of my love drifts off with the sound of his laugh.
I open my phone. Pull up the wedding venue I waited a whole year to book.
Canceling requires a waitlist. Confirm cancellation?
I tap Confirm.
Look up at them one last time. And walk out.
第2章
Outside the stadium, I try to grab a cab to the airport.
The crowd's still pouring out. No drivers are picking me up. I decide to walk somewhere quieter and try again.
I've barely taken a step when a voice stops me.
I turn. Preston reaches out and ruffles my hair.
"Where'd you go? Everyone's waiting on us. The party's about to start. We need to move."
His tone is completely normal. Like he didn't just drape his jersey over another woman and drag her to the confession circle in front of the entire world.
"I'm not going," I say flatly.
He pauses. Then his face shifts. Impatient. He grabs my hand and starts walking.
"Are you serious right now? Please don't tell me it's because I didn't pick you. I already explained. After we go public, you can wear any jersey I own."
"I don't have the energy to coddle you tonight. Media, the team, a hundred fires to put out. Eeveryone else gets it. You're the only one making it about your feelings."
Everyone else. Meaning Sabrina.
I don't say anything. I let him pull me along.
Might as well end it face to face.
He pushes the private room door open. The food's already out.
Sabrina's sitting right in the middle of the team, two empty seats beside her.
Preston drops into one like it's his, arm slung over the back of her chair.
I take what's left.
The player across from me grins. "Yo, Lena, where'd you disappear to? Pres was tearing his hair out looking for you. Thought something happened."
"Nowhere. Just walking around," I say, flat.
Sabrina's eyes go red instantly. "Lena — are you mad at me? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said yes when Pres invited me."
Pres.
I glance at Preston. He clearly doesn’t even react to the nickname anymore.
I open my mouth to speak, but Sabrina cuts me off, making a show of getting up.
"It's my fault I'm in Lena's way. I'll go — from now on, outside of work, I won't come near Pres."
The guys jump in, pleading with her to sit.
Preston presses her back into her seat and turns to me. There's a warning in his voice.
"Lena. Grow up. Stop making a scene over nothing."
"Sabrina's my team operations manager. We work side by side. Putting my jersey on her shoulders is nothing. Keep giving me that attitude, and you're taking this too far."
Funny.
I haven't said a single word, and I'm already the one being childish.
One of the guys jumps in to save the mood.
"Alright alright, drop it. Let's eat."
Preston picks up a lobster tail and drops it on Sabrina's plate. Starts cracking it open for her.
I sit there and watch. I don't stop him like I usually would.
He notices how calm I am.
And — for once — he actually offers up an explanation for me.
"Sabrina can't shell her own lobster."
"Mm," I say. Even. Quiet.
Somehow I think about the night Preston first came to meet my dad.
He sliced his finger open and still finished shelling every piece of lobster on my plate.
He told my dad he'd take care of me forever.
Said he was ashamed he hadn't made it big yet — that he couldn't win a title in my name.
He still cracks open lobster.
Just not for me anymore.
I crack my own and take a bite. I swallow wrong and start coughing.
Preston frowns, pats my back, pushes a glass into my hand.
"Still so clumsy. Slow down. No one's going to steal it from you."
Lemonade.
Sabrina's favorite.
Five years. He still doesn't know I'm allergic to lemon.
I used to make excuses for him. He's got games. He's got pressure. He can't be expected to remember the little stuff.
But he remembers Sabrina loves lobster. He remembers she loves lemonade.
He just doesn't remember lemon puts me in the ER.
I open my mouth. "I'm allergic to lemon."
第3章
Preston's hand freezes mid-air.
His eyes flick away for a second. Then his tone turns matter-of-fact again.
"Been busy lately. It slipped my mind."
Not slipped. Never stored.
I don't bother correcting him. I keep eating.
After dinner, someone suggests moving to the private lounge next door to keep the night going.
I still haven't found my moment to say the words. So I say nothing and follow.
At the card table, Preston sits to Sabrina's left. I sit to his.
Sabrina pouts. "Ugh, my hand's terrible. If only I had a Queen of Hearts."
I glance down. I'm missing a Queen of Hearts too.
A second later, Preston tosses one across the table to her.
She sticks her tongue out. "I knew Pres was the best."
My stomach twists.
It acts up again, right on cue. It always does after I eat.
I press a hand to my side. Preston notices and slides his palm over my stomach, rubbing.
"Cramping again? You know your stomach's a mess. Why'd you eat so much?"
I fight the urge to pull away. Just make a small sound. I'm not going to make this ugly in front of everyone.
For the next hour, Preston keeps slipping Sabrina the best cards.
He is the only one who keeps losing.
The guys start hooting. "Loser pays up, Pres. Pull a dare card."
He draws one lazily and hands it off.
Kiss the person on your right. Refuse, and they take a shot.
The room goes electric.
Sabrina's on his right.
Every eye swings to me. They're all waiting for me to lose it, like I always do.
I laugh, light. Calm.
"It's a game. Kiss her if you want. Don't factor me in."
Preston goes still. His chest rises hard, once.
Sabrina's lashes flutter. She hesitates.
"Pres, don't. You've got so much pressure right now. If you kiss me, Lena's going to give you hell all night."
"I don't want to be the thing between you two. I don't want to make this hard for you. I'll just take the shot — I only get hives if I drink. That's nothing compared to Lena being upset."
She flashes a brave little smile and reaches for the glass.
Preston catches her wrist immediately.
"Stop. You can't drink, period. It's just a dare. I lost — I pay."
He stands up. Tilts her chin up. Kisses her hard.
Sabrina's eyes flick to me mid-kiss. The corner of her mouth lifts.
I watch them tangled together and wait for the pain to hit.
Nothing.
Just a wave of nausea rolling through my gut.
"Preston. Let's break up."
