After I Stopped Being His Perfect Wife, My Ex-Fiancé Lost His Mind

To marry Vincent Vance, I volunteered for the Vance family's 'Perfect Wife' selection.

Round after round I survived, until I was the last one standing.

Just when I thought the dust had settled, a servant led me into a pitch-black room.

The lights snapped on. Two bodies tangled together filled my vision.

The man's voice was familiar, teasing：

“You made it. Care to join us?“

Vincent's hands never stopped moving over her, but his eyes were locked on me.

I stood frozen, every drop of color draining from my face.

“What……is this?“

My helplessness clearly pleased him. He rose, crossed the room, and patted my cheek.

“Oh, I forgot to mention. This is the real final test.”

“Every man in our circle keeps mistresses. If you want to be Mrs. Vance, the most important thing is learning to live with that.”

“You didn't throw a fit. Not bad.”

He pulled open the nightstand drawer, rummaged past a stack of condom boxes, and fished out a ring. He slid it onto my finger like an afterthought.

“The wedding's still next week, right on schedule. I'll make you the most beautiful bride this city has ever seen.“

I forced the corners of my mouth upward. My other hand tightened around the check in my pocket.

Vincent Vance, I don't think there's a future for us anymore.

——

The woman on the bed couldn't wait. She sat up, clutching the sheets around her, and a familiar face emerged.

Bonnie Fox. The daughter of the Fox family, eliminated in the very first round.

The first time we met during the selection, she'd held her hand under her nose and fanned the air right in front of me.

“You think Mrs. Vance is some bargain-bin clearance item? That just anyone can have it?”

I'd gripped my faded jeans until my knuckles ached, my face burning red.

When she was eliminated, her composure shattered. She lunged at me.

“How can I be the one leaving? That broke nobody should've been thrown out of the Vance house first!”

I thought that was the last I'd ever see of her.

Yet here she was, half-dressed, draped over Vincent right in front of me, her gaze brimming with triumph and pity.

The ring hung loose on my finger, sliding toward the knuckle. I curled my hand just enough to keep it from falling off.

Last night before bed, I'd still been daydreaming.

Knowing Vincent's romantic streak, I'd imagined a flower-covered lawn, surrounded by friends and family, a perfect proposal.

Reality hit me like a fist this morning.

My eyes stung. I blinked hard, refusing to let the tears fall.

Rule number one in the 'Perfect Wife' handbook: never lose composure in front of others.

Days of drilling had turned that rule into reflex.

Vincent released my hand, turned back to the warmth waiting behind him, and waved at the servants without looking at me.

“Take Miss Simmons back to her room.”

I stayed where I was, feet rooted to the floor. For the first time, I didn't obey.

I stared into his eyes, trying to understand how someone could become a stranger overnight.

Vincent pulled away from the bed long enough to light a cigarette, flicking ash carelessly to one side, amusement carved across his face.

“Staying for the show?”

“Might as well. You'll be seeing a lot of this from now on.”

He tilted Bonnie's chin up and kissed her, slow and deep, making sure every wet sound carried across the room.

My legs buckled. I stumbled backward, shoved through the door, and ran.

My back hit the hallway wall and I slid to the floor as my phone buzzed and buzzed in my pocket.

I wiped away the tears I hadn't realized were covering my face and pressed answer.

Dad was propped against the hospital bed, an oxygen mask still strapped over his face.