Getting with My Ex's Wife's Ex After Breakup

Lily's POV

"You may now kiss the bride," the priest declared, and the hall exploded with loud cheers.

The groom, my handsome fiancé Vincent, leaned down to kiss his blushing bride. I fought back tears and watched from outside the church as their lips met.

Vincent pulled back and gazed down at her with love in his eyes—the same way he had looked at me that morning when I handed him his lunch before he left for what I thought was a normal workday.

Not his wedding.

I could see our employees in the pews, people I had once called family, cheering him on as he betrayed six years of love and painful sacrifice.

His new bride, Stacy Monroe, squealed as he swept her into his arms and carried her down the aisle.

The excited crowd began to trickle out of the church, the sound of their celebration filling the street.

Unable to handle the humiliation of being discovered, I turned and walked back to my car.

I could barely get the key into the slot with how hard I was sobbing, but somehow I managed.

I set the car to reverse but was stopped by a knock on the window.

It was a man in a suit who introduced himself as the assistant to the man behind the anonymous text that led me to discovering Vincent's deceit.

Sebastian Jones, the tragic billionaire and philanthropist who lost the use of his legs after an accident that claimed his parents' lives. And, most importantly, Stacy Monroe's fiancé—or should I say ex.

His assistant, Matthew, informed me that Mr. Jones would like to speak to me. I didn’t get the chance to protest before the phone was handed over to me.

"Miss Lily Hart," a deep baritone voice came through the phone.

The title was like salt on a fresh wound, but I was a businesswoman above all else, so I pulled myself together before responding.

"Mr. Sebastian Jones." I cringed when my voice cracked. "It's a pleasure speaking to you."

"The pleasure is all mine, considering we're both in the same boat."

We weren't. Not when every tabloid around went crazy when his engagement to Stacy was announced to the public.

'Beauty weds the crippled Beast' were some of the tamer headlines.

I could only imagine what he was going through, knowing the humiliation about to come once people found out his soon-to-be wife picked an upstart from a small company over him.

"Vincent has hurt and humiliated you, Lily, just as Stacy has done to me. Isn't it only fair we make them pay?"

I was more bitter than vengeful because, deep down, I was tired.

Tired of the relationship, tired of having to swallow my jealousy when Vincent let women rub themselves against him with playful touches.

And tired of pretending I was fine after what happened months ago.

But I was also curious.

"How do you propose we do that?"

"Marry me."

My eyes widened. I was sure I misheard him.

But then he repeated those two words as casually as you would talk about the weather.

Like a true businessman, Sebastian responded to my silence by explaining why it would be mutually beneficial for us to get married.

It all sounded so logical when he said it, yet I couldn't say yes.

Unlike him and Stacy, I actually loved Vincent, and marrying just to get back at him felt too much too soon.

He left me with his number on a piece of paper that I immediately tossed into the glove compartment to be forgotten.

Then I drove back home.

The house was hauntingly silent as I began packing everything important into a suitcase.

The smell of Vincent cologne still lingered in the air. The sheets were rumpled from last night, his tie drawer was wide open after him getting dressed a mere three hours ago.

It was all a glaring reminder of how suddenly my life had fallen apart. Or maybe it had been falling apart, but I was too busy trying to convince him that I would one day be the perfect wife while running the company to notice.

Packing away our photo albums, I paused to flip through them, and it led to me curled up on our bedroom floor, crying over our memories.

He had been there after my parents died, helping me pick up the pieces and even offering to assist me in running the company they had left behind.

We had something good. We were the envy of our friends because it was so picture-perfect, and he ruined it.

For real love or a chance to build a relationship with Stacy's father, I could not tell.

I snapped the book closed and tossed it into the trash can. My eyes fell on my hand as it hovered over the garbage, and they narrowed on the ring on my finger.

It was a plastic ring Vincent had won from a vending machine four years ago. He proposed to me with it, and still high off the excitement of our date, I had immediately said yes.

Compared to Stacy's ring—a beautiful silver piece with inlaid diamonds—my ring was less than worthless.

I pulled it off without a second thought and tossed it in with the photo album.

Then I made my way to the study to grab the last of my things from the safe.

Spreading out the files, I began sorting through for the deed to our house, share certificates, articles of incorporation, and a few other documents for properties I owned or jointly owned with Vincent.

It didn't take long for me to discover a disturbing theme.

They were all in Vincent's name