After My Fiancé Betrayed Me with My High School Enemy

The crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow across the Weaver estate's grand ballroom, their light dancing off champagne flutes and diamond jewelry. I stood in the corner, my white cane tapping softly against the marble floor as I tried to orient myself in this sea of voices and clinking glasses.

"Nadia, darling, you look absolutely radiant tonight," Mrs. Harrington's voice dripped with false sweetness as she brushed past me. "So brave of you to come out like this."

I smiled politely, though my heart wasn't in it. Five years of blindness had taught me to read people through their tones, and hers screamed pity.

"Thank you," I replied, my fingers nervously twisting the engagement ring Nikolas had placed on my finger before his arrest. "I couldn't miss welcoming Nikolas home."

The Homecoming Gala was in full swing—a lavish celebration for Nikolas Weaver's release from federal prison. Five years ago, I had sacrificed my eyesight to save him in that terrible car crash. Tonight was supposed to be our reunion, the beginning of our promised future together.

"Nikolas!" A woman's voice rang out, followed by excited chatter. "He's making his entrance!"

I straightened my spine, extending my hand slightly. "Nikolas?"

The crowd parted, and I could feel the shift in energy as he entered the room. My heart raced with anticipation.

"Nadia." His voice was cool, detached—nothing like the passionate promises he'd made before being taken away. "You came."

"I promised I would," I said softly, reaching for him.

His hand briefly touched mine, but instead of the warm embrace I'd dreamed of for five years, he merely guided me to a chair in the corner.

"Stay here," he instructed, as if speaking to a child. "I need to mingle."

Before I could respond, he was gone, swallowed by the crowd. I sat alone, the voices around me fading to background noise as disappointment settled in my chest.

"Champagne for the blind princess?" A waiter's voice startled me.

"No, thank you," I declined, my fingers tracing the rim of my water glass.

Hours passed. I heard Nikolas's laughter across the room, followed by a woman's sultry giggle. My stomach twisted as I recognized that voice—Giana Lopez, my high school tormentor.

"Nikolas, you're being terribly naughty," she purred, her voice carrying just enough for me to hear. "What will your little charity case think?"

"Don't worry about her," Nikolas replied, his voice low but not low enough. "She's just... there."

I flinched as if slapped. Just there. Five years of waiting, of hope, reduced to those two cruel words.

A shadow fell across me, and suddenly a glass was being placed in my hand. "Drink this," a deep voice commanded. "It will help."

Before I could protest, strong fingers wrapped around mine, guiding the glass to my lips. The liquid burned my throat but dulled the sharp edges of my humiliation.

"Kaiden," I whispered, recognizing the voice of Nikolas's head of security. "Thank you."

His hand lingered on mine a moment too long. "Always watching," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear.

---

Two weeks later, the air was thick with cigar smoke and tension. I sat rigidly in a high-backed chair, the underground club's basement room humming with male voices and the clink of poker chips.

"Another round, gentlemen?" Nikolas's voice slurred slightly. He'd been drinking heavily all night.

I'd been brought here against my will, Nikolas insisting I accompany him to "show off" his engagement ring. But as the night wore on, I realized I was merely decoration—a trophy he could flash before returning to his game.

"I'm out of cash," Nikolas announced suddenly, his voice tight with frustration.

"The debt must be paid," a heavily accented voice replied coldly. "You know our rules, Weaver."

I felt Nikolas shift beside me, his movements jerky with desperation. "I need more time."

"Time is up." The Russian's voice hardened. "What do you offer as collateral?"

Silence fell over the table. Then Nikolas laughed—a harsh, bitter sound that made my skin crawl.

"What about her?" he said casually, as if offering a used car. "She's been nothing but a burden anyway. A broken doll I don't want anymore."

My breath caught in my throat. The room spun around me as his words sank in.

"Nikolas," I whispered, reaching for him. "What are you saying?"

He pushed my hand away. "Face it, Nadia. You were never more than an obligation."

A chair scraped back violently. "I'll cover his debt," a familiar voice cut through the tension.

Kaiden stepped forward, his presence suddenly filling the room. "I'll take her off your hands."

"Nikolas," I pleaded, tears streaming down my face. "Don't do this."

But Nikolas only laughed again, the sound echoing in my ears as he scrawled his signature on what I assumed was a transfer of guardianship.

"Take the trash out," he said dismissively, pushing me toward Kaiden. "She's all yours now."