The Fiancée’s Resignation

My name is Chloe. In our elite social circle, everyone called me the perfect fiancée. For five years, I wore that empty title without ever demanding a wedding, a marriage license, or a penny of his wealth. All I wanted was for Julian Sterling to donate his bone marrow to save my mother. When he cheated with an A-list actress, I handled the press and cleared his name. When he was caught kissing a pop idol, I bought out the footage. When he knocked up a viral influencer, I even scheduled her prenatal appointments. The wealthy socialites mocked me behind my back, their pity dripping with contempt: "Chloe, you live like a stray dog begging for scraps." I ignored them all. Until the night my mother passed away. The Sterling Group suddenly faced a massive liquidity crisis. To save him, I auctioned off the last heirloom my late father had left me and pulled Julian out of ruin. In return, Julian finally decided to bestow a title upon me. He casually tossed a velvet ring box onto the floor by my feet. "Find some free time and let's get married. Consider it my thank-you." I looked at the ring, but didn't bend down to pick it up. "No need. It was just paying a debt. Julian, we’re through." Hearing my words, Julian actually looked up from his paperwork—a rare sight—and stared straight at me. "The doctors said your mother's condition is finally stabilizing. She'll be ready for the bone marrow transplant soon. You want to break up now? Are you giving up on her life?" I didn't answer. I only tightened my grip on the sheet of paper in my hands. Under the bold hospital seal was my mother’s death certificate. "Did you tell Mia Montgomery which hospital room my mother was in?" Julian let out a faint chuckle, wearing a look of smug realization. "And here I thought you were throwing a tantrum out of nowhere. It's about that." "Yes, I told her. The girl heard your mother was sick and wanted to pay her respects." "Judging by your reaction, her spoiled attitude probably rubbed your mother the wrong way. Look, I’ll drop by in a few days and explain everything to your mom myself. You don't have to—" Before he could finish, I slammed a tabloid magazine onto his mahogany desk. The headline blared: [Billionaire Julian Sterling’s Pregnant New Flame Takes Center Stage; Cast-Off Ex Demoted to Maid!] The cover showed me holding Mia’s arm as we walked out of an OB-GYN clinic. The gossip columns were merciless. Mia was rumored to be carrying Julian's heir. And I—his girlfriend of five years—was painted as a desperate, money-hungry leech, running errands and acting like her servant just to stay on the payroll. Mia had taken that very magazine to my mother's hospital room. My mother was a retired high school teacher. She had spent her entire life standing tall on dignity and pride. And I had snapped her spine in two. She refused any further treatment. She gave up on living altogether. The emergency room light glowed red all night. When they finally wheeled her out, a white sheet was pulled over her face. I pushed the death certificate forward, inches from his hands. "Julian, you owe me an explanation." Julian’s patience snapped. He didn't even bother glancing down at the paper. Frowning with irritation, he looked at me as if I were being utterly ungrateful. "You're demanding an explanation from me? Chloe, know your place." "We aren't even married yet. And even if we were, you don't own me. Still, since you helped bail out the company, be a good girl and pick up that ring. Once I wrap up this merger, I'll go with you to apologize to your mother." "As for Mia, I’ll deal with her. I’m busy. Go home." With that, Julian bent his head back over his documents. His cold indifference pierced through me like ice. My hand holding the certificate hung frozen in mid-air. A bitter smile touched my lips as my mother's dying words echoed in my ears. She had been furious. She had raised her trembling hand and slapped me across the face with every ounce of strength left in her frail body. Weeping with rage and disgust, she choked out: "Our family didn't raise a spineless coward! I’d rather die!" "I’d rather die than watch you sell your soul like a cheap whore for the world to laugh at!" "Chloe, you sold your dignity, and worse, you fell in love with your client! Have you no shame left?!" She was right. Chloe, where was your shame? I folded the death certificate, put it away, and turned to walk out. "The ring," Julian said, not even looking up. I paused and turned back. He sat there with his head down, intently scanning the contract before him. I suddenly remembered how he looked when we first started dating. Back then, his eyes carried that same intense focus: "Your mom is my mom. What's a million dollars a year in medical bills? I can afford it!" "Bone marrow? If she needs it, I'll donate it! Hell, I'll give her whatever she needs to survive!" "Chloe, I'm going to make you my wife one day!" Back then, promises were spoken so easily. Only when love rots do you realize that sweet words all end the same way. I looked down at the floor. The velvet box lay open by my heels. The massive diamond sparkled brilliantly under the chandelier, dazzling and blinding. Crack. With a clean, sharp kick, I sent the ring box skidding across the hardwood floor. Then, I walked out without looking back.I booked a one-way flight leaving in three days across the ocean. After paying off the mortgage and medical bills with what was left of my father's heirloom, I had enough money to buy a peaceful burial plot for my mother, with plenty left over to build a new life abroad. I dug up my old graduate school acceptance letter from five years ago, thick with dust. I brushed it off. My mother's handwriting was still jotted on the back of the envelope. When my father died, she used to comfort me: "Life keeps moving forward, sweetheart." Now that she was gone, I repeated her words to myself, trying to soothe the gaping hole in my chest. I stayed awake the entire night. I didn't dare close my eyes. I was terrified I would dream of my mother scolding me in fury. And I was equally terrified I wouldn't dream of her at all—that she hated me so much she refused to visit. So I spent the night packing. Around nine the next morning, loud chatter broke out downstairs. I didn't care to check. After all, this was Julian’s estate, and I had an appointment with a cemetery broker before noon. Just as I zipped up my suitcase and headed for the stairs, a sickly-sweet voice called out behind me: "Packing already, Chloe?" I turned around. It was Mia. She held up her right hand, an enormous diamond catching the sunlight. A smug, triumphant grin spread across her pretty face. "Sorry about this. Julian proposed to me last night." "He wants the wedding as soon as possible, so I moved in right away. After all, some people play the devoted fiancée for five whole years and never make it through the front door.” “ Julian and I have only known each other for a few months, and he's already putting a ring on my finger. I really have to cherish a man like that!" "So, thanks for clearing the way, Chloe." I glanced at her, then looked away. I didn't utter a single word. I despised her too much to grant her even basic courtesy. I silently gripped my suitcase handle and moved toward the stairs. Young girls never know how to control their pride. My complete lack of reaction starved her of the drama she craved. She stepped right in front of me, blocking the staircase. "Chloe, isn't this ring gorgeous?" "It cost over three million dollars! Even when Julian’s company was crashing last week, he never once thought about selling it. I honestly didn't realize how deeply he loved me." "You must come to our wedding! I'll make sure you get a seat at the main table!" I glanced at the ring on her finger. What a coincidence. It was the very ring I had kicked across the floor last night. I almost wanted to burst her bubble and tell her the truth: Julian didn't hold onto that ring out of love. He kept it simply because raw diamonds are notoriously hard to liquidate for fast cash. To a man like Julian, love had ceased to matter a long time ago. He claimed he loved me, yet he only ever gave me the title of his long-term girlfriend. He claimed he needed excitement and passion, so he paraded girls like Mia through his bed. The only person Julian Sterling truly loved was himself. "Sure," I said flatly. "Be sure to send an invite." My total indifference made Mia look like a clown. Her face twisted with fury. She lunged forward and grabbed the handle of my suitcase. "Hold on! You think you can just walk out like that? How do I know you haven't stolen anything valuable from the Sterling estate?" "I'm the future lady of this house. If you walk out with family heirlooms, I’m the one who loses out!" "Open the bag. Let me inspect it!" I had no patience for her circus. I shoved her hand off the handle and kept walking. As we tussled at the top of the stairs, the front door opened, and Julian walked in. I was surprised. At this hour, he was supposed to be running an executive board meeting. Seeing the commotion, he instinctively stepped in front of Mia, shielding her behind his back, and glared at me with annoyance. "Are you giving Mia a hard time?" Looking at his guarded, suspicious eyes, an overwhelming exhaustion washed over me. "She wants to search my luggage." Mia tugged at the hem of Julian's suit jacket, her voice dripping with innocence. "Julian, I just wanted to check if Chloe kept any spare keys. This is going to be our home soon. I just don't want any uninvited guests dropping by." "Is that really so wrong of me?" Her soft, trembling voice sounded like sugar-coated venom. Julian couldn't resist it. He turned his displeasure squarely on me. "Chloe, open the suitcase." I frowned, letting out a humorless laugh. "Julian, this house has smart biometric locks. You never gave me physical keys. I know you want to protect your little trophy, but use some common sense." "Consider it the last shred of dignity you owe me after our breakup." I didn't know which word hit a nerve, but his face darkened instantly. He summoned the butler and two maids, his voice laced with cold intimidation: "Just cooperate. Humoring Mia makes her happy. What is your dignity worth in front of me anyway?" "Open it yourself. Don't make me have them force you."I stared at him for a long moment. I didn't even feel anger anymore. Just pure, draining fatigue. I crouched down and unzipped the suitcase. The contents were sparse. After five years with Julian Sterling, all I was taking with me were a few changes of everyday clothes. Mia was determined to humiliate me. She didn't even bend down. Instead, she raised her foot and dug the sharp point of her designer stiletto right into my folded sweaters, kicking and tearing through my things until my clothes were scattered and trampled across the hallway floor. Only when she had thoroughly ruined everything did she pull back, satisfied. She leaned against Julian’s chest, tilting her chin up at me. "Fine, nothing here. Now get out. You’re an eyesore." "Julian didn't sleep at all last night worrying about business. We're going to take a nap!" I looked down at the mess on the floor. Most of my shirts were torn and punctured by her heels. The suitcase lining was ripped. Packing them back up was pointless. I turned to the butler standing nearby. "These are ruined. Could you please have someone toss them out?" The butler looked at me with deep sympathy and nodded quietly. Just as I reached the front door, Julian suddenly barked from the stairs: "Chloe!" My steps paused, but I didn't turn around. "Apologize for kicking that ring last night, and I'll have Mia move out." "Otherwise, if you dare walk out that door today, I'll cut off your mother’s hospital funding tomorrow. And the bone marrow? Don't even dream of it!" My mother's death certificate was sitting inside my handbag. Julian's threats sounded entirely ridiculous to my ears. I turned around and met his gaze. He was gripping the railing on the second-floor landing, his face flushed with anger. I couldn't fathom what he was actually furious about. He looked like a spoiled toddler throwing a tantrum—getting everything his way, yet still determined to torment me. "Disgusting," I said softly. Those were the last words I gave him. Keeping my back straight, I pushed open the double doors and walked out. Julian’s pupils contracted violently. It was as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard—and couldn't believe the naked disgust radiating from my eyes. His heart raced with a sudden, suffocating wave of panic. Beside him, Mia was still whining: "Chloe has completely lost her mind! How dare she speak to you like that! Julian, you look so pale. Did you not sleep well? Let me help you to bed." "The doctor said I had a false pregnancy last time because I wanted a baby so badly." "Julian, why don't we try for real this time without protection? I want to give you a child." A strange, suffocating irritation flared inside his chest. Looking at Mia’s youthful, vibrant face, Julian automatically wrapped an arm around her waist and led her into the master bedroom. Yet, the moment their lips were about to touch, Julian closed his eyes—and all he could see was my rigid, unyielding spine walking out the door without a second glance. All he could see was the revulsion in my eyes when I called him disgusting. Julian snapped his eyes open and shoved Mia away. "Get some rest yourself," he muttered distractedly. "I have things to take care of." He took two steps toward the door, then stopped, turning back to face Mia’s bewildered gaze. "Move your things out." "This house isn't right for you." He rushed down the stairs. He didn't care that Mia was upstairs screaming and smashing decor in the bedroom. Grabbing his car keys, he hurried toward the garage. On his way through the foyer, he passed the butler carrying my ruined suitcase toward the trash bins. Julian stopped in his tracks. "Keep it," he ordered. The butler nodded. Julian hesitated for a second, then asked, "I've brought women home before. She’s always had a gentle temper. She’s not really leaving, is she?" The butler looked up, his face blank and silent. Julian looked away, not waiting for an answer, and sped off in his sports car. It sounded like he was trying to convince the butler, or perhaps himself: "She's just throwing a fit because she wants to break up. I know she loves me." "Her mom is still in the hospital. Her father's heirloom is still at the auction house. She can't just abandon everything." "A little coaxing will fix it. Once I coax her, she'll come back..."Getting a cab out of the private gated community was nearly impossible. I walked slowly. The nearest bus stop was half an hour away. Thankfully, the cemetery agent drove out to pick me up. By the time Julian was driving along the main roads searching for me, I was already long gone. Flipping through the catalog with the agent, picking a spot was easy—there were only a few prime locations available. Back then, my mother couldn't bear to let my father go, so she kept his urn at home. Now, I could finally lay them to rest together. I was afraid my mother was still angry with me. My father had always been the gentle one. Whenever I made a mistake growing up, he would always smile and plead with my mother on my behalf. I pressed my cheek against the cold ceramic urn, whispering to him: "You always spoiled me the most, Dad. Visit me in my dreams, okay? Help me smooth things over with Mom. Tell her not to be mad at me anymore." "Just one dream. Please. I miss her so much." In that small, dark plot of earth, I buried the only two people in the world who had ever tucked me into bed and brought me warm soup when I was sick. From now on, there would be no more phone calls where they talked endlessly while I listened. Now, I would speak to a cold stone slab, and they would listen from beneath the frozen ground. I shoveled the dirt in myself. When the dark earth finally swallowed the urns, the brave face I had worn for days shattered completely. The delayed grief crashed over me like a tidal wave. I collapsed to my knees before the headstone. I pressed my forehead against it, but there was no warmth left to feel. Only icy marble. It sent shivers through my bones. Tears poured out like a violent summer storm, tearing through my chest. My sobs echoed through the empty cemetery, raw and gut-wrenching. It was pitch black by the time I stumbled out of the gates. I didn't want to go back to my old apartment. Because I no longer had a home. My flight was early the next morning, so I went straight to the airport. Meanwhile, parked outside my family's old brick townhouse, Julian leaned against his car. The orange glow of his cigarette flared and faded in the dark. He had lost track of how many packs he had gone through. Ever since I walked out of the villa, I had vanished off the face of the earth. Calls, texts—everything vanished into a black hole. It was only then that he realized I had virtually no close friends. The few acquaintances I had were tabloid editors and PR managers I had met while cleaning up his cheating scandals. How pathetic. Anxiety and dread gnawed at his gut, so he kept feeding it nicotine. A sinking feeling crept into his chest: he had messed up. He shouldn't have let Mia take the ring from the floor. Worse, he should never have tossed the ring at my feet like spare change. A proposal wasn't supposed to look like that. There should have been flowers, fireworks, a knee on the ground, and a vow to spend a lifetime together. Chloe was always traditional and shy. She would have blushed, offered her hand, and only allowed him a chaste kiss on the forehead. Julian caught himself smiling at the thought. A desperate spark of hope flared in his chest. He remembered my mother in the hospital. Chloe was stubborn, but she was devoted. She would never abandon her mother. Especially not with the transplant right around the corner. She couldn't possibly leave now. Julian crushed the cigarette butt beneath his shoe, pulled open the car door, and sped toward the hospital under the pale morning light. At that exact moment, the airport intercom chimed: [Attention, passengers on Flight 886 to London. Final boarding is now commencing at Gate 2. Please have your boarding passes ready.] Under the clear blue sky, the plane climbed into the clouds. I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes, waiting for the brand-new life that awaited me across the Atlantic. At the hospital, Julian burst through the door of the private suite, the hopeful smile on his lips freezing instantly. The room was completely stripped. There was no trace of human life. In an instant, a wave of terror swallowed him whole. He walked toward the bed. The sheets were freshly laundered. The bathroom was spotless. The vase on the nightstand no longer held the fresh flowers I replaced every morning. Even the patient chart at the foot of the bed was gone. Julian felt a dizzying wave of nausea. Dropping all pretense of dignity, he sprinted down the hospital hallway, grabbing a passing nurse by the arm. "Where is the patient in Suite 3? Was she transferred?" "Where did she go?!" The nurse pulled back, looking at him with utter confusion. "Mr. Sterling, didn't Miss Evans tell you?" "The patient passed away. Two days ago."