For seven years, I thought Curtis was just a struggling entrepreneur in Brooklyn.

That was until I wore a dress I'd saved up three months' salary for and flew to New York City, planning to surprise him at his company's annual gala.

But it turned out the so-called "company gala" was the kind of charity ball you read about in Forbes, and he was the man of the hour on stage—the heir to a financial empire.

Even more devastatingly, he was about to announce his engagement to the heiress of another powerful family.

The socialites around me began to whisper.

"Who is that? Some girl trying to claw her way up by crashing a party like this?"

"She's pathetic. She doesn't even have a proper gown. She's just humiliating herself."

I wanted to scream, to tell them that I was the one he swore he'd spend his life with.

But just then, the woman in the haute couture gown linked her arm with his.

A volley of camera flashes went off as the host excitedly announced, "The future Mrs. Van der Meer!"

She smiled charmingly into the microphone and said, "Thank you all for your blessings. To celebrate our growing family, Curtis will be announcing a major merger."

The camera zoomed in. He looked down at his fiancée with a tenderness I knew all too well. "Of course, my dear."

Just last night, in our rundown rental apartment, he had looked at me with those same obsessive eyes, his body searing against mine, his voice raw as he promised, again and again, that he was only mine. That man was my lover. My Curtis.

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1

I staggered backward, my cheap clutch knocking over a champagne tower.

The sharp sound of shattering glass drew dozens of scrutinizing gazes.

The woman finished her speech and glided toward me, a perfect smile fixed on her face.

"Oh, my, how clumsy."

My gaze was fixed on her neck, on the diamond necklace worth tens of millions. Its brilliant sparkle stung my eyes. I glanced down at her slightly rounded belly.

The heir she had mentioned.

She was pregnant. With Curtis's child.

Her gaze fell upon me, her face a mask of well-practiced concern. "Are you alright?"

"I—"

"Ma'am," the hotel manager said, bowing hastily. "She's just a server who spilled some wine."

"Oh?" The woman—Victoria, I'd soon learn was her name—elegantly raised an eyebrow. "You look familiar."

I opened my mouth, but my throat was scorched dry. I couldn't utter a single word.

She extended an arm to me. "Why don't you wait for him with me in the VIP lounge? Curtis is always so busy with company matters." Her grip was light, yet it left no room for refusal.

In the lounge, Victoria ushered me to a seat and personally poured me a glass of sparkling water.

"You and Curtis have known each other for a long time?" she asked, sitting gracefully across from me.

"Yes."

"Then you must know how much he has sacrificed to complete the merger of our two conglomerates." Victoria sighed softly, one hand resting on her belly, her face glowing with a victor's radiance. "Thank God, with a child on the way, the future of the conglomerate is finally secure. He can finally breathe easy."

The glass in my hand trembled violently.

Footsteps approached the door. Several bodyguards in black suits entered and bowed to her. "Ma'am, the CEO's speech has concluded."

Then, Curtis strode in.

He looked nothing like the Curtis I knew. His face was a mask of ice, and he radiated the powerful aura of a CEO. Only when his eyes fell on Victoria's stomach did his expression soften for a fleeting moment.

Then he saw me. His handsome face froze instantly. "What are you doing here?"

Victoria smiled and threw herself into his arms. "Curtis, you're finally done." She glanced back at me with a smirk. "This young lady was waiting for you backstage. She seemed to be in a hurry, so I brought her up. Is she a friend of yours?"

Curtis wrapped his arm naturally around her waist, his voice flat. "Just a server who spilled some wine. She's not important."

He turned to his assistant. "Liam, get her out of here. Don't let her cause a scene."

I stared at him in disbelief.

He never looked at me again, nor did he offer any explanation.

As the assistant came to escort me out, Curtis was tenderly kissing Victoria's forehead.

"Alright, you little troublemaker. Let's go to dinner."

Victoria stood on her toes and kissed him, cooing, "You're the best, Curtis."

Just as the elevator doors were about to close, Victoria looked back at me, pouting in mock grievance. "Darling, it's not very polite to leave an old acquaintance in the lurch like that."

Curtis didn't even turn his head.

"She's just a server. Nothing is more important than our future."

The elevator doors closed, shutting out his voice.

And crushing seven years of my trust in him.

"Don't just stand there. Let's go."

The assistant, Liam, gave me a cold look, his tone as glacial as his gaze.

Like a robot, I bent down to retrieve the key I’d been given for a guest locker.

My phone vibrated. It was a message from Curtis.

[Go with Liam for now. I'll come over later tonight and explain.]

I stared at the cold text, my fingers trembling as I typed a reply. [Why did you lie to me?]

His response was even more impatient.

[Don't make a scene. This isn't the place for you to throw a tantrum.]

A tear splattered onto the screen.

I followed Liam downstairs, past the corporation's elite security team, who all stared at me with undisguised contempt.

"Is that her? The gold digger who's clinging to the CEO?"

"The future Mrs. Van der Meer is so magnanimous, personally trying to placate her."

"Magnanimous? Ha. A true matriarch doesn't waste her time on a stray cat."

A burst of laughter followed. I gritted my teeth, trying desperately to ignore their piercing words.

The car stopped in front of a skyscraper that pierced the clouds.

Liam tossed me a key card. "The CEO's orders. You'll be staying here for the time being."

Without another word, he drove away.

This was a penthouse on Park Avenue. In a building so secure, even if I wanted to leave, I couldn't.

I swiped the card and opened the door.

The sheer luxury of the place was staggering.

It was a duplex penthouse. An entire wall was made of floor-to-ceiling glass, overlooking the glittering lights of New York City. The faint scent of a woman's perfume lingered in the air.

This was the "rundown rental apartment" Curtis had told me about?

I thought about how I had scrimped and saved every month, even pulling all-nighters to do freelance design work for a meager income, just to support him in any way I could.

I thought about how I had rejected all the promising men in my circle because I believed in the man I had chosen.

It was all a colossal joke.

I collapsed onto the plush carpet, my eyes drawn to an unlocked safe in the study.

I froze.

Inside, a gilded prenuptial agreement lay waiting. It bore the signatures and family seals of Curtis and Victoria.

In the bottom right corner, the date of signing was printed in elegant script.

I remembered that day. It was the day he told me his business had failed and his family had disowned him.

That day, full of heartache and determination, I had told him, "It's okay, Curtis. I'll be with you."

He had replied, "I'm sorry, Destiny. I'm sorry for making you suffer with me."

And on that very day, at the Van der Meer Group headquarters, he was pledging his life to another woman.

Like a madwoman, I rushed into the bedroom. On the nightstand was an intimate photo of them. The closet was filled with Victoria's Hermès and Chanel. The vanity was covered in expensive jewelry.

When I pulled open the nightstand drawer, the last shred of hope in my heart died.

A copy of Forbes magazine slid out.

It was Curtis's cover story. In the photo, he was shirtless, and right on his chest was an intricate family crest—the emblem of Victoria's family.

And the matching tattoo we'd gotten—our symbol—was gone, completely covered up.

I curled up on the cold floor and sobbed my heart out.

I remembered that rainy night seven years ago when I found him in a Brooklyn alley. He had been ambushed by enemies, covered in blood.

I used every bit of first-aid knowledge I had to keep him alive.

When he woke up, he told me his name was Curtis. A poor man whose business had failed and who had been cast out by his family.

We spent six blissful months together before he told me he had to go to another city to pursue a business opportunity.

He held my hand, his eyes more serious than I had ever seen them. "Destiny, this is fate. But right now, I have nothing. I can't give you any promises."

I squeezed his hand back. "I don't care. Curtis, when you make your comeback, we'll get married. I can wait."

After that, we grew closer than ever, but he would never acknowledge our relationship in front of his friends. He always said the time wasn't right.

It turned out he had been lying from the very beginning.

He wasn't an entrepreneur; he was the heir to a financial empire.

He wasn't going off to make a living; he was going to claim his throne.

I curled up on the floor, crying until my throat was raw, until my whole body convulsed.

In the cover photo, Curtis stared into the camera, his eyes filled with a pure, commanding coldness.

Just like how he once looked at me and said:

"Destiny, in my heart, nothing is more important than you."

When Curtis returned to the penthouse, he found me with red, swollen eyes.

He pulled me into his arms, his eyes filled with pain.

"Destiny, I'm sorry."

"The conglomerate was facing a hostile takeover. I had to return to New York and take over as CEO. But your background… it couldn't bring any benefits to the group. The board would never have allowed me to marry you."

I couldn't listen anymore. I pushed him away, tears streaming down my face.

"So you married someone else? Curtis, what were these seven years? What about our promises?"

Curtis looked down at me, his expression shifting back to the calm authority of a CEO.

"Destiny, I am the CEO of the Van der Meer Group. I have responsibilities. My union with Victoria is a business marriage, beneficial to both our families."

He paused. "Victoria said that as long as you behave, she can pretend she doesn't know you exist. You can stay by my side."

Fresh tears blurred my vision as I looked up at him.

Curtis bent down and wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb.

"Destiny, you've been with me for so long, I won't let you be wronged. I'll give you an ocean-view villa in Malibu and a cushy job as the group's art consultant."

I slapped him. Hard. As he stared at me in shock, I grabbed my backpack and ran out the door.

There were no taxis around. I walked for what felt like an eternity before finally flagging down a passing car.

My phone buzzed. A message from Curtis.

"Destiny, don't be unreasonable. My art consultant position is a job anyone in this company would kill for. I'm giving you three days to think about it."

Then, his assistant transferred five million dollars to my account.

In the past, to maintain his persona as a destitute man, he would only give me little trinkets from flea markets, which I cherished. All this time, it was me scrimping and saving to help him. And now, he was throwing five million dollars at me.

I didn't reply. I just sent the money right back.

I had planned to leave this heartbreaking city immediately, but I soon discovered that all my credit cards had been frozen.

I had no choice but to hide in a cheap motel.

I thought I could find a way to slip away.

I was too naive.

In just one day, the story of how a social climber crashed a charity ball to latch onto a tycoon's heir had spread like wildfire across North America.

Walking down the street, I could feel hostile glares coming from all directions.

Whispers followed me everywhere.

"Look, that's her."

"She looks so plain, yet she has the audacity to go after the future Mrs. Van der Meer."

"I heard she's just some unknown designer. How delusional, thinking she could marry into a wealthy family."

I was his lover of seven years, and now I had become the other woman everyone condemned.

I couldn't let them smear my name like this.

I gathered everything from my seven years with Curtis—our emails, photos, and the cheap ring he gave me—and mustered the courage to go to the Van der Meer Group headquarters to confront him.

I couldn't even get past the main entrance.

The head of corporate security blocked my way, his eyes filled with disdain. "We deal with corporate matters, not personal disputes. Your attempt to threaten the safety of a senior executive is beneath our notice."

I refused to give up, standing outside and arguing my case.

The commotion attracted more guards.

The security head glanced at me, his voice icy. "The union between our CEO and Miss Victoria is crucial for the future and stability of both conglomerates. Anyone who attempts to undermine this alliance will face a lawsuit of astronomical proportions."

"Get out of here. Now. Or you will be arrested for trespassing."

His cold words shattered my last shred of hope.

I finally understood. In the face of absolute power, my truth was just a joke.

My phone rang again and again. It wouldn't stop. Finally, I gave in and answered.

It wasn't Curtis. It was Victoria.

"Poor, pathetic Destiny," she said, her voice dripping with contempt. "We need to talk, little thing."