Fiancé's Affair & Asset Theft

The champagne bottle felt cold against my palm as I fumbled with my keys, the silk of my wedding dress rustling with each movement. Three months. Three grueling months of eighteen-hour days, endless client meetings, and strategic negotiations had finally paid off. The Meridian Tech contract was worth twelve million dollars, and it was mine—ours. Carter's company would be set for the next five years.

I pushed open the front door of our penthouse, my heart racing with anticipation. "Carter? I'm home!" My voice echoed through the marble foyer, breathless with excitement. The champagne bottle caught the afternoon light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows as I held it up like a trophy.

Silence.

I kicked off my heels, the Italian leather clattering against the hardwood as I padded toward the living room. The wedding dress—a custom Vera Wang that had cost more than most people's cars—felt suddenly heavy against my skin. I'd worn it straight from the final contract signing, unable to contain my joy. Tonight was supposed to be perfect. A celebration of our business triumph and our upcoming wedding.

"Carter?" I called again, rounding the corner into our spacious living room.

He was there, lounging on the leather sectional with his phone pressed to his ear, his back to me. His dark hair was perfectly styled as always, his white dress shirt crisp despite the late hour. But something felt off. The energy in the room was wrong—distant, cold.

"I know, I know," he was saying into the phone, his voice carrying that smooth, reassuring tone he used with clients. "Don't worry about it. I'll take care of everything."

I cleared my throat, the champagne bottle still clutched in my hand. "Surprise!"

Carter turned, and for a split second, something flickered across his face—annoyance? Guilt? But it was gone so quickly I wondered if I'd imagined it. His trademark smile spread across his features, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Andrea." He ended the call without saying goodbye to whoever was on the other end. "You're home early."

"Early?" I laughed, holding up the champagne. "Carter, I got it. The Meridian contract—it's ours. Twelve million dollars!" I spun in a circle, the dress flaring around me like something out of a fairytale. "I thought we could celebrate. I even wore the dress because—"

"That's great, babe." His response was flat, distracted. He was already looking back at his phone.

The champagne bottle suddenly felt heavier. "Carter, did you hear what I said? Twelve million dollars. This changes everything for the company."

"Yeah, I heard you." He stood, straightening his shirt. "Look, we'll celebrate later, okay? I'm dealing with something right now."

Something cold settled in my stomach. I walked to the window, looking out at our private driveway where my Rolls-Royce Cullinan should have been parked. The space was empty, just oil stains on the concrete where my car should be.

"Carter." My voice came out sharper than intended. "Where's my car?"

He didn't even look up from his phone. "Oh, that. I lent it to Daisy."

"You what?" The words hit me like a physical blow. I turned to face him fully, the champagne bottle forgotten in my grip. "You lent my car to who?"

"Daisy Watson. You remember—the scholarship student I told you about? She needed reliable transportation for a job interview." He said it so casually, as if lending out someone else's hundred-thousand-dollar vehicle was as normal as borrowing a cup of sugar.

"Carter, that's my car." My voice was rising despite my efforts to stay calm. "My name is on the title. You can't just—"

"Come on, Andrea. Don't be selfish." He finally looked at me, and there was something in his expression that made my skin crawl. Condescension. "It's just a car. Daisy really needed help, and we're in a position to give it. Isn't that what we should do?"

Selfish. The word hit me like a slap. Here I was, standing in a wedding dress after securing the biggest contract of our careers, and he was calling me selfish for being upset that he'd given away my car without asking.

"How long has she had it?" I asked quietly.

"A few days." He shrugged. "Maybe a week."

A week. My car had been gone for a week, and he hadn't even mentioned it. I thought about all the times I'd taken rideshares, assuming my car was in the shop. All the times I'd asked Carter if he needed me to pick him up, and he'd said no.

His phone buzzed, and he answered it immediately. "Daisy? What's wrong?"

I watched his face change, watched concern flood his features in a way that made my chest tight. This was how he used to look when I called him. This was the expression I'd been missing without even realizing it.

"Okay, okay. Don't panic. I'm coming right now."

He hung up and grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch. "I have to go. Daisy needs to get to the hospital—some kind of emergency."

"What about—" I gestured helplessly at myself, at the champagne, at the celebration we should have been having.

"We'll celebrate tomorrow, I promise." He was already heading for the door. "Call an Uber if you need to go anywhere."

And then he was gone, leaving me standing alone in our living room, wearing a wedding dress and holding champagne that suddenly tasted like ash in my mouth.