My Fiancé Funded His Mistress With My Millions

I drove through Manhattan with champagne on the passenger seat. Dom Pérignon. The bottle was cold against my palm when I picked it up an hour ago. Five years. Five years since Marcos first kissed me at a charity gala and told me I was different from everyone else in the room.

Tonight I wanted to surprise him. I wanted to see his face light up when I walked into his Columbia lab with this bottle and two glasses. I wanted to hear him laugh and pull me close and say something about how lucky he was. That was all I wanted.

The university parking garage was nearly empty at ten PM. I took the elevator up to the seventh floor where Marcos's biomedical research lab occupied the east wing. My heels clicked on the tile. I had a key card he gave me months ago. He said I should use it whenever I wanted. He said I was always welcome.

The corridor lights were dim. Most of the labs were dark and locked. But Marcos's door was cracked open. A sliver of light spilled out. I heard voices inside.

I stopped walking. My hand tightened on the champagne bottle.

A woman's voice. Soft and breathy. Then Marcos. Low and urgent.

I should have knocked. I should have called out. Instead I moved closer and pressed myself against the wall beside the door. Through the gap I saw them.

Marcos had his back to me. His lab coat was on the floor. Sarai Weaver was in his arms. Her research assistant. The one who always smiled too brightly when I visited. The one who called me Miss Stone in a voice that sounded respectful but felt like something else.

Her hands were in his hair. His mouth was on her neck.

The champagne bottle was slipping in my grip. I held it tighter. My chest felt hollow. My throat closed.

Then Marcos laughed. It was a sound I knew. The sound he made when he was pleased with himself.

"God, I'm good at this," he said.

Sarai pulled back slightly. "At what?"

"At managing Lorelei's daddy's money." He kissed her again. "Do you know how easy it is? I tell her the trial failed. I show her some corrupted data. She writes another check and tells me she believes in me."

Sarai giggled. "You didn't."

"I did." His voice was light. Casual. "I corrupted the results myself last week. Bought us another eighteen months. Maybe more. The wedding can wait. Everything can wait. As long as she keeps funding this lab, we're golden."

My knees felt weak. I pressed my shoulders harder against the wall.

"What if she finds out?" Sarai asked.

"She won't." Marcos sounded certain. Comfortable. "She loves me too much. She's been in love with me since college. She'll never walk away."

I turned and walked back down the corridor. My heels made no sound. I didn't remember deciding to be quiet. I just was.

The elevator doors opened. I stepped inside. The champagne bottle was still in my hand. I looked at it. The label was perfect. The gold foil gleamed under the fluorescent lights.

I drove to the Hudson River. I parked in an empty lot near the water. It was 3 AM. The city lights reflected on the dark surface. I sat in the driver's seat with the champagne beside me. I didn't open it. I didn't cry.

I thought about five years. I thought about every grant I approved. Every connection I leveraged. Every late night I stayed up reviewing his research proposals. Every time I told my father's board of directors that Marcos Clark was worth the investment. Every suitor I turned away because I was engaged. Because I was in love. Because I believed we were building something together.

I thought about the $2.3 million I had poured into his career. I thought about the Columbia lab I helped him secure. I thought about the wedding we had been planning. The wedding he kept postponing.

The water was very still. I watched it for forty minutes. Then I started the engine and drove home.

The next morning I put on a white dress and pearl earrings. I did my makeup carefully. I smiled at myself in the mirror. The smile looked real.

I drove back to Columbia. I walked into Marcos's lab at nine AM. He was at his desk reviewing notes. He looked up when I entered. His face broke into that familiar warm smile.

"Lorelei! What are you doing here?"

I walked over and kissed his cheek. "I have good news."

He stood and pulled me close. "Yeah? What's that?"

I reached into my bag and pulled out a letter. It was typed on Stone Group letterhead. I had written it at 4 AM.

"I talked to the board," I said. "They approved an additional fifty million for your research. No strings. No timeline pressure. Just... belief in what you're doing."

Marcos's face went pale. Then red. Then he grabbed the letter and read it. His hands were shaking.

"Lorelei... I don't... this is..."

"You deserve it," I said softly. I touched his face. "You work so hard. I know the last trial didn't go the way you hoped. But I believe in you. I always have."

He pulled me into his arms. He held me tight. Over his shoulder I could see Sarai at her desk across the lab. She was watching us. Her expression was careful. Neutral.

I smiled at her. She looked away.

Marcos kissed my hair. "I love you," he said. "You know that, right?"

"I know," I said.

I left twenty minutes later. I drove to my office in Midtown. I sat at my desk and opened my laptop. I pulled up a contact I had saved two years ago. A researcher at MIT. Sterling Mitchell.

I typed an email. I kept it brief.

Then I pressed send.

The champagne bottle was still in my car. I never opened it. I never would.