Escaping Two Deceitful Lovers to Finally Find My True Love

The company successfully made its initial public offering—going public and selling its shares to the public for the first time on the stock exchange. At the celebration party, I couldn’t resist sharing a second big announcement. "I’m getting married!"

The entire room erupted in applause, but my two childhood friends were left in stunned silence. They finally pried themselves away from the beautiful women around them and rushed over, demanding answers.

"Married? Who on earth would marry someone as tough as you?" One of them blurted out.

"Imogen, are you serious? Or have you just had too much to drink?"

"Every time you get tipsy, you say the craziest things! Last time, you even insisted you’d marry both of us!"

Laughter spread through the room. I just smiled, took out my phone, dialed a number, and put it on speaker.

A voice crackled through, "Miss Jones, the wedding with Mr. Brown is all ready. Where are you?"

I tossed my wine glass and the microphone into my friends’ stunned hands. "The wedding will start soon!"

Weston was the first to snap out of it, smashing his glass to the floor. "Imogen, what kind of joke is this?"

I quickly stepped back to avoid the glass shards scattered across the floor. Weston, who once seemed concerned about even the slightest bump, now didn’t seem to care at all.

I ignored him and turned to the employees with an apologetic smile. “Everyone, enjoy yourselves! I’ve got a wedding to attend, so I won’t be staying! When I’m back from my honeymoon, I’ll bring wedding sweets and treat everyone to a grand meal!”

The laughter softened, and a few started to exchange puzzled looks. “Miss Jones, didn’t you always say you’d only marry Mr. Miller or Mr. Davis? How could you possibly—”

I smirked, casting a sidelong glance at Weston and Vincent, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “Really? Am I the one chasing them down for marriage, or are they just assuming I should?”

Before I could say more, my phone buzzed again—the makeup artist, calling to remind me I had to get ready. With a last glance at the employees, I started to leave. But the tension in my tone clearly struck a nerve with my two so-called suitors, and just as I turned, Vincent grabbed my arm.

With a dark look, he muttered angrily, “Imogen, you’re really going all out to play your games at this celebration banquet!”

Weston chuckled, his signature charming smile intact, though his eyes held a flash of irritation. “For a second there, I almost believed it. You made me jealous. But really—who else but us would even consider marrying a headstrong woman like you?”

“If you want to share a toast with us, just say so,” one of them said with a sly grin. “With our friendship, I won’t refuse to cooperate with you. Don’t you think?”

They both offered me a glass of champagne. Seeing that I didn’t take it, they exchanged frantic glances, silently begging for my compliance, hoping I would play along and save face.

But I had no interest in entertaining their games. With a simple swipe, I brushed the glasses aside and moved to leave.

The two of them froze, their arms holding the glasses suspended in mid-air, their smiles faltering as they struggled to maintain their composure.

Nancy, the first to stir up trouble and push for the wedding toast, stepped forward, her wine glass swirling with practiced elegance. “Miss Jones, today is a day to celebrate our company’s listing. You can’t be the one to ruin the fun!”

The other women quickly gathered around, nodding in agreement, as if it would be unforgivable for me not to drink. It felt like an unspoken pressure to comply.

The same women who once fawned over us with gratitude were now acting as if they held the upper hand, empowered by the attention of Weston and the others. They were practically daring me to refuse.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.