Timothy threw his head back and laughed.
“Really, Samantha? Who the hell would want to marry you?”
He sneered, stepping closer as if he still had the right to tower over me. “You’re useless. You’ve been with me for five years, and everyone knows it. You were never seen with another man. So don’t even try to fool me.”
I should have been hurt. A part of me had once believed I was nothing without him. But now? Now I saw the truth.
I used to believe Timothy loved me.
For five years, I had clung to that belief, to the whispered promises, the soft kisses, the way he’d pull me close in the middle of the night like he was afraid to let go. I had thought I was his world, that he saw a future with me the same way I saw one with him.
I remembered the way he kissed my forehead when I was stressed, the way he said, I’ll always choose you, Sam.
But it had all been a lie.
Because in the end, he didn’t choose me.
I wasn’t the love of his life. I wasn’t even his first choice. I was a placeholder, a convenient replacement for something—or someone—he had truly wanted all along.
And now, standing in front of me, he had the audacity to laugh.
I didn’t flinch. “I’m not here to explain myself. Yes, it’s been five years, and now, I’m officially breaking up with you.”
Timothy’s smug expression faltered. His ego, already bruised, was about to take a serious hit.
“No,” he scoffed. “That can’t be. You’re still mine.”
I rolled my eyes. “And why exactly would I still be yours?”
His lips curled into a cruel smirk. “Because I pity you.” He crossed his arms, his tone dripping with condescension.
“I’ve been doing you a favor, Samantha. Without me, what do you have? You’d be nothing.”
Audrey let out a soft giggle and turned to me. “It’s fine, Samantha. We can share him.”
I blinked at her.
She smiled sweetly, her voice almost playful. “You can have him on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I’ll take him Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I do need more time, after all. We’re trying to get pregnant.”
A slow, mocking smirk spread across my lips.
I let out a laugh—sharp, cold, final. “No need, thanks.”
Both of them stared at me.
I met Timothy’s gaze, my smile never wavering. “I don’t pick up my trash. Feel free to have him.”
His mouth fell open.
Audrey’s smug expression dropped as I turned and walked away without a single glance back.
But just as I reached the entrance, Audrey’s voice rang out.
“Don’t let her in!” she snapped at the store attendants. “She doesn’t even have money to buy anything.”
I sighed, already expecting this childish behavior. But before I could say anything, one of the employees smiled at me and said, “She’s a VVIP, Miss.”
Audrey spun around, her face twisting in disbelief. “What?”
The store clerk gave her a professional smile. “She has unlimited access to our exclusive collections. Her future husband made sure of that.”
Audrey’s face paled. “H-Her future husband?” Her voice wavered before turning into a shriek. “Who’s your husband?”
I smirked, enjoying the panic in her voice.
The staff was the one who replied, "Her husband is known to be one of the most wealthiest bachelors in our country."
But before I could answer, Audrey’s face twisted in fury, and suddenly, she lunged at me. Her perfectly manicured nails clawed into my hair, yanking it with enough force to make my head snap back.
“Wealthiest? So, you think you hit a jackpot so you told me that I'm picking your trash? You little—”
Pain shot through my scalp, but I refused to cry out. I grabbed at her wrists, trying to pry her off, but she was wild—her hands twisting and pulling like a madwoman.
“You think you’re better than me?” she screeched, shaking me violently. “You think you can just walk away and win?”
I snarled, my patience snapping. “Get your hands off me, you psycho!”
With all my strength, I shoved her back. She stumbled, her designer heels skidding across the marble floor. But she wasn’t done. With a furious cry, she lunged again, her fingers grabbing onto my dress, trying to rip it.
I struck first this time. My hand shot forward, grabbing a fistful of her hair.
Audrey shrieked. “Let go, you bitch!”
“Not until you do,” I growled back.
We wrestled, hands pulling, nails scratching, both of us refusing to back down. I could hear gasps around us, the store attendants frozen in shock.
Then, a deep, menacing voice cut through the chaos.
“And who the hell do you think you are to lay a hand on my bride?”
The entire store fell into stunned silence.
Audrey stiffened, her grip on me loosening instantly. Timothy's jaw dropped, realizing I wasn't lying.
"Scott," I called, not expecting him.
Dressed in a sharp black suit, his presence demanded attention. His cold, calculating gaze locked onto Audrey then Timothy, making the air shift with his authority.
Audrey’s face drained of color as recognition dawned. Her lips trembled. “S-Scott? Wait… that's the name of the old, ugly vegetative guy I was supposed to marry! How come..."
