I didn't want him or our son anymore.
I went straight back to my parents' place.
It had been 10 years since I'd seen them, and the moment they saw me, they hugged me with tears in their eyes.
Mon and Dad asked me over and over if I was sure about this—if I'd really thought through the decision to marry someone else.
They assured me that if I didn't want to, they wouldn't force me.
But I nodded firmly.
Not long after I left, Jonas sent me a message.
[Andy, come back as soon as you've thought things through.]
And then another message, a warning this time:
[But don't dare come back on my wedding day. Mitch doesn't like being disturbed.]
As if I'd go to his wedding just to make a scene.
Mitch also messaged me—a photo of my luggage dumped in a trash can.
[Andy, I've turned your room into our wedding suite. Hope you don't mind!]
I didn't bother responding to either of them. I was too busy planning my own wedding.
My parents hired the top designers to make my wedding gown and shoes.
Before I knew it, the big day arrived.
Washington is huge, but wouldn't you know it—our wedding cars crossed paths.
Jonas spotted my dad in the driver's seat of my car and immediately got out, walking over respectfully.
"Mr. Fitzgerald, whose wedding car are you driving today?"
The Fitzgeralds hold its reputation in Washington. Everyone in the business world knows Dad. Even top CEOs call him respectfully.
Jonas, as someone just gaining success in the business world, was no exception.
He had worked with Dad before, but only because of me—Dad had thrown him a bone out of pity.
Before Dad could reply, Jonas noticed me in the back seat, dressed in my wedding gown.
In an instant, he froze, completely thrown off.
"Andy?!" he called out in disbelief.
I glanced at him but with nothing but a cold expression in my eyes.
When he finally got a good look at my face, he started trembling all over. Without thinking, he rushed to the car door, trying to pull it open.
But Dad went furious. "Jonas! What do you think you're doing, huh?" he barked.
But Jonas ignored him, staring straight at me like he was piecing something together.
"You... You're a Fitzgerald. Andy, you're Mr. Fitzgerald's daughter?"
When I nodded, his face twisted in disbelief. He shook his head violently, refusing to accept the truth.
"No. No way. How is that possible?!" he blurted out.
"I-If you're his... his daughter," he stammered, "then why the hell did you spend 10 years with me? Why go through all that suffering?"
I gave him a cold smile.
"Oh, so you do realize how much I suffered all those years."
When I first met Jonas, he had nothing. He wasn't the rising star he is today—just a broke guy trying to start a business.
Back then, he fell for me at first sight and wouldn't give up. Even if he only had 10 bucks in his pocket, he'd spend it all to buy me a gift.
I was moved by his sincerity, but Dad was furious. He told me, "That poor boy is not good enough for you! He will never amount to anything!"
I was young and rebellious, so I fought back, saying I'd cut ties with my family.
My dad, just as stubborn, disowned me.
And I left. I stayed with Jonas and endured a life of hardship—leaky apartments, unhealthy roadside food, and endless early mornings and late nights.
Dad thought I'd cave and come running back.
But for Jonas, I endured it all.
Eventually, Dad swallowed his pride and sent Mom to convince me to come home.
But I couldn't bring myself to leave Jonas.
So I stayed.
For 10 long years.
Jonas likes to think he climbed his way up on his own—that he earned his spot as one of Washington's rising businessmen.
