My agreement with the tech mogul, Rex Blackwood, was simple. At his family’s 99th annual charity gala, he would finally introduce me as his fiancée.

But when the day came, he was a no-show.

Instead, he appeared on a live broadcast from a business summit, raising a celebratory glass with his partner, Victoria Pierce. The photo was instantly splashed across every financial headline. Meanwhile, I became the laughingstock of the gala, a spectacle of humiliation for every socialite in attendance.

Rumors swirled about the fiancée who had never been seen. Everyone wondered when I would be officially cast aside. Stricken with guilt after realizing what I had endured, Rex promised he would be there the following year.

But when he finally stood on that stage in an impeccable suit, his voice full of emotion as he called my name under the spotlight of the 100th gala, the massive screen behind him was broadcasting a segment on a new art exhibition in Paris.

It featured an interview with me, a rising new artist, and the unmissable sparkle of a wedding band on my ring finger.

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1

For five years, I was Rex Blackwood’s dirty little secret.

Every time I stood alone in a magnificent ballroom, waiting for him, Rex would be somewhere else with his business partner, Victoria Pierce. Sometimes on a private island, other times snapped by paparazzi at a product launch.

They’d grace the covers of business magazines, hyping their “match-made-in-heaven” partnership. The next day, they’d issue separate, carefully worded denials about their latest romantic entanglement.

Marrying Rex was once my only dream. Yet, everything I desperately craved, Victoria seemed to acquire without lifting a finger.

I let my phone screen go dark. I was sitting outside the now-empty ballroom, waiting for a car that never came. Only Rex's call did.

The moment I answered, his cold voice cut through the line. "It's late. Why did you just up and leave?" he snapped. "Do you have any idea what it looks like when my fiancée disappears without a word? Where the hell are you?"

I remained silent.

In the past, I would have been the first to back down. I would have swallowed my pride and meekly explained myself.

But now, I couldn't even bring myself to form the words.

A hint of impatience sharpened his tone. "Why aren't you talking?"

"I'm at our ski lodge," I replied, my voice flat.

Rex froze, the promise he’d made finally hitting him: after ninety-eight broken promises, ninety-eight nights as his secret, he would introduce me to the world at the ninety-ninth gala. And then, he’d bring me here.

But today—the day of the gala—he was with Victoria, toasting their latest venture.

"I..." he stammered. "Wait for me. I'm on my way."

After he hung up, I canceled the car I'd ordered to take me down the mountain. Not because I had any hope left, but because the weather had turned. A blizzard was howling outside, and no car was getting through that.

I stood at the door of the lodge, shivering in the biting cold. The frigid air killed my phone battery within three hours.

In the end, Rex never came.

The last thing I saw before my phone died was a new Instagram post from Victoria. A selfie, with her posed artfully before the fireplace in our lodge. In the frame, half of Rex's profile was perfectly captured.

The caption read: "A snowy night celebration for future success."

The black screen of my phone reflected the bitter smile creeping across my face.

On the one day I had held on for, the one day he was supposed to keep his promise, he was here. With her.

I waited all night in the blizzard, but he never showed. I had wasted the best five years of my life waiting for a promise he never intended to keep.

And now, I was done waiting.

I didn't go back into the lodge. That night, for two grueling hours, I dragged my frozen, numb body down the mountain until I stumbled into the nearest airport hotel.

Not another call from Rex. Not a single text.

The next day, I arrived at the gallery early, preparing the liquidation and handover documents.

Rex was the gallery's primary benefactor; I was merely the artist who managed it. I’d been with him since before he was a tech titan, yet my existence was still a footnote.

If I left, he probably wouldn't even notice.

Just as I was about to type the final sentence, Rex appeared behind me. I met his gaze without flinching, nonchalantly clicking away to a different document on my screen.

He stared at me, his voice icy. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing important. Just drafting a few exhibition proposals," I answered breezily.

Rex frowned but didn't seem to sense anything was amiss. "Chloe, come with me." He turned and strode toward my office.

The moment my name left his lips, my assistants started whispering. "Oh no, looks like Chloe's in for it with Mr. Blackwood again," one murmured.

Everyone here assumed Victoria was Rex’s public-facing partner. Very few knew I was the real fiancée.

Inside my office, Rex glared at me. "What's the big deal? So I didn't make it to the lodge," he scoffed. "Are you really going to throw a tantrum and not even come home over something so insignificant?"

I shook my head. "The weather in Aspen was bad. I couldn't get back."

It was partially true, but mostly an excuse. I had no intention of going back. I had already decided to leave for good.

The profound shift inside me went completely unnoticed. After a tense silence, he spoke again. "That portrait commission... I've arranged it for you."

He handed me a commission contract. "It's an exclusive commission from an artist I greatly admire," he said, his tone softening. "Let's have dinner tonight to celebrate." It was a clear olive branch.

I hesitated, then took the contract. He owed me this much, at least.

Seeing my continued silence, Rex opened his mouth to say more, but a piercing ringtone cut him off.

I watched him hurry out of the room. It was obviously Victoria. Only she could make him drop everything without a second thought.

Before leaving for the day, I printed the gallery’s closure notice and handed it to my mentor, Marcus Thorne.

He was stunned. "You're closing the gallery? Is this because of Mr. Blackwood?"

I pressed my lips together, a flicker of dark amusement rising in me. Everyone assumed I was giving up my career because I couldn’t handle Rex's neglect.

They didn't know I was leaving because there was nothing left of my heart to break.

When I simply nodded, he let out a long, weary sigh and signed the notice.

As I was leaving the gallery, I nearly collided with Rex and Victoria. It wasn't just my assistants—the entire New York financial world saw her as the woman who rightfully stood by his side.

Rex’s gaze darkened when he saw me. "We'll talk later, Chloe."

He shot me a warning look, then steered Victoria past me toward an urgent meeting.

I didn't say a word.

That afternoon, I finished the final tasks at the gallery alone. The whole space felt cavernous and empty, but one thing hadn't changed: Rex's absence.

In the past, whenever he promised to visit, I’d wait for him before starting my work. I wasn't waiting anymore. I was determined to see this through on my own.

By the time I locked the doors that evening, Rex still hadn't shown up.

I felt no anger. I had already wasted five years. Why would I cling to this last, faint glimmer of hope?

As for the commission, his assistant had already emailed. Canceled. Whether Rex had approved the cancellation or was even aware of it was irrelevant. The outcome was the same. I was leaving.