My Fiancé Kissed His Secretary, I Kissed His Rival

When my asthma seized my lungs, Rodney James was at the center of the banquet hall, dancing close with his secretary, Amelia Harding. Even as I foamed at the mouth and slipped into unconsciousness, he kept his arms around Amelia and kissed her.

On the drive home, I found a diamond ring in the glove compartment. Before I could say a word, Rodney snatched it away with a frown and said coldly, "It's not for you."

I went stiff. I understood at once. That ring was a gift for Amelia.

I nodded, pointed at the bridal shop up ahead at the intersection, and said calmly, "Pull over, please."

Since he had betrayed me, there was no reason to hold the wedding at the time we'd booked.

I would cancel the custom gown and vanish completely on the wedding day.

——

The moment I stepped into the bridal shop, Rodney got out of the car and came after me.

He flung a woman's coat into my face. "Minnie Fox, do something about that filthy habit of yours, always leaving your junk lying around."

Rodney was a neat freak. He never allowed a single thing of mine to be left behind in the car.

I glanced at the coat on the floor and said flatly, "It's not mine."

At those words, his expression eased. Without the slightest disgust, he bent down, picked up the coat, and folded it neatly.

I knew. The coat was Amelia's.

Every time Amelia "accidentally" left something behind, it set off a hysterical fight between Rodney and me.

This time, though, I didn't say a word of complaint. I turned and gave the clerk my phone number.

The clerk beamed. "Perfect timing, you two. Your custom gown and suit are both finished. You can try them on."

Before I could refuse, the man who'd just blown up at me for nothing walked stone-faced into the fitting room.

Ten minutes later, I stood before Rodney in the gown.

The corner of his mouth twisted. "Tacky beyond words."

I didn't argue with him. I simply asked the clerk to take my picture.

At that, Rodney's face soured with impatience, and he moved to pull me in for a photo together.

Just then his phone rang. Amelia's personal ringtone.

She was crying to him that her favorite coat had gone missing.

If some kind soul found it and returned it right away, she would give herself to that person, body and soul, faithful unto death.

He hung up. He didn't even change out of the suit. He left in long, hurried strides.

Listening to the sound of the car fading into the distance, I picked up the scissors and, without a moment's hesitation, cut the gown to shreds.

At one thirty in the morning, while I was packing up my personal things, a message came through.

It was from Rodney: 【Out drinking.】

Eight years together, and the man had finally bothered to report his whereabouts.

I glanced at the cleaning gloves on my hands and didn't reply.

Once the trash was bagged, I took a hot shower and was asleep the second I hit the bed.

When Rodney came home the next day, he caught me on my way out to take out the garbage.

He looked at me strangely. "Is your phone broken?"

When I shook my head, his brow knit on instinct.

I knew why he was asking.

In the past, whenever he stayed out too late, I'd send message after message, call after call, never tiring of it.

But last night, his phone had been frighteningly silent.

Just as I was about to step outside, Rodney asked again, "Minnie, where did our photo on the wall go?"

I looked down at the trash bag, about to tell him the truth, when his phone buzzed.

The next second, he shoved past my shoulder, pressed the voice button, and talked as he walked inside.

"Easy, sweetheart. The moment it's ready, I'll bring it right over to you."

Hearing the water start running in the bathroom, I went on downstairs to throw out the trash.

On my way back up, my blood sugar crashed.

Drenched in cold sweat, I got home, grabbed the fried-egg toast off the table, and had barely taken a bite when Rodney's voice came, thick with resentment.

"Minnie, were you starved to death in a past life?"

I watched him drop the toast I'd bitten into, plate and all, into the trash can.

My eyes went hollow as I asked him, "I cooked for you for eight years. When my blood sugar crashes, I'm not even worth one bite of the breakfast you made?"

Rodney's gaze was hard and cold. "You ill-bred thing. Taking what isn't yours without asking is stealing."

With that, he pulled on his suit jacket and slammed the door behind him.

Facing this fresh round of cold cruelty from Rodney, I instinctively picked up my phone and opened his profile.

I saw he'd changed his background photo. It was a picture of Amelia mugging for the camera in cat ears.

I gave it a like, then quietly unpinned him from the top of my chats.