The seventh time Sterling Prescott left me waiting at Chicago City Hall was the last. I was done with him for good.

I blocked his number and deleted his social media.

Any charity dinner he was attending, I stayed away from.

When my architectural design firm decided to partner with his real estate group, I quit on the spot.

The plan was simple: a clean break.

For thirty years, I had given him everything.

I didn't want to live like that anymore.

I'd rather be alone for the rest of my life than spend one more night waiting in an empty penthouse that never felt like a home.

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1

I waited for Sterling Prescott at Chicago City Hall until the staff started closing up for the day.

I’d called him when I first arrived. He said he was stuck in an urgent video conference with investors from Dubai—a corporate emergency—and told me to wait.

I waited another two hours. When I tried calling again, it went straight to voicemail.

I clutched the marriage application so tightly my knuckles turned white, the paper growing damp and crumpled in my palm.

"Ma'am, we're about to close. Are you still planning to register today?" a clerk finally asked, her voice tinged with pity.

She had watched me sit there all day.

I snapped back to reality and managed a faint shake of my head. "Thank you. Not today."

As I walked out of City Hall, a few employees on their way home drifted past, their murmurs catching my ear. "I swear I've seen her before. She's always alone."

"You know... I think you're right. She's the one waiting for that guy who never shows."

I kept my expression blank, but shame coiled hot and tight in my stomach. I quickened my pace instinctively.

This was the seventh time. The seventh time I had come to City Hall to wait for Sterling.

Just as I stepped outside to hail a cab, he appeared, striding toward me with a perfectly calibrated apology already settling onto his features.

"Sorry, Scarlett. Something urgent came up with Dubai. I hope I'm not too late."

I scoffed. A corporate emergency. The same excuse as last time. And the time before.

And now, he was using it again.

I couldn't even summon the energy to call him out on it. I just shook my head. "You're late. They're closed."

Sterling glanced at the Patek Philippe on his wrist, his annoyance clear. "Damn it, do these people punch out the second the clock strikes five? Couldn't they have waited five more minutes?"

He stepped closer, his large, warm hand closing around my wrist. He pressed my palm flat against his hard, sculpted chest. "Traffic was a nightmare, baby. Feel this—I sprinted all the way here the second the meeting ended. I'm exhausted."

I stared at him, my expression unreadable as I fought back the tears stinging my eyes.

Who did he think he was fooling?

I could tell he hadn't run a single block.

I bit my lip, and for the first time, I challenged him. "If you really ran all the way here, why isn't there a single crease in your bespoke suit?"

He was immaculate. Not even his tie was crooked.

Sterling's expression froze. The practiced tenderness in his eyes hardened into anger. "What's that supposed to mean? Are you saying I'm lying? Accusing me of not wanting to marry you?"

"I busted my ass to get here, and this is the thanks I get? I can't believe how unreasonable you're being, Scarlett!"

He effortlessly twisted it back onto me.

The whole act was just making him look ridiculous.

I rubbed my temples, suddenly drained of the will to argue. "You know whether it's true or not, Sterling."

With that, I turned to leave.

His cold voice bit at my heels. "Fine. I know exactly what I'm about. So don't you come crawling back to me again. Stop pestering me, stop begging me to marry you!"

This time, I didn't look back. I bit down hard on my lower lip, tasting blood.

I had only taken a few steps when my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram notification from a close friend: "Some people just don't know when to quit. So pathetic. But hey, maybe the eighth time's the charm?"

The photo showed two clinking champagne glasses. In the background, Sterling was with Blair Vance.

I read the post three times. You didn't have to be a genius to know it was aimed at me.

Even though I’d already guessed the real reason for Sterling's absence, Blair Vance's post still landed like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from my lungs.

Sterling and I had grown up together, inseparable as children.

When I was just a little girl, I vowed I would marry him when I grew up.

That declaration had delighted both our parents.

And Sterling had always been good to me.

Until we were adults.

Then he brought another woman home—Blair Vance. Watching them, so intimate and lost in their own world, I finally understood that whatever Sterling felt for me, it wasn't love.

The realization was terrifying.

A few years ago, I'd jokingly suggested we get married.

Our parents were ecstatic, but Sterling—he flatly refused.

Over the next few years, I must have proposed a dozen times.

He only agreed seven times—and stood me up all seven. And each time, like clockwork, Blair would post something cryptic on social media.

Just then, my phone vibrated again.

I thought it might be Blair and my thumb instinctively moved to decline, but I saw the caller was my friend, Chloe Jenkins.

She was inviting me to an exclusive party that night.

Without thinking, I asked, "Is Sterling going to be there?"

"Don't worry, Scarlett. I know what's going on with you two, so I already gave him a heads-up. He'll be there!" she said cheerfully.

"Then I'm out," I said flatly. "If he's going, I won't be. Maybe some other time."

Dead silence crackled on the other end of the line. Chloe was stunned.

Everyone in our circle knew I'd been chasing Sterling for years.

I shamelessly sent him gifts, managed his social calendar, and spent my days tidying his penthouse and preparing his meals.

Once, at a friend's birthday party, someone remarked how lucky he was to have me.

Sterling had just scoffed. "She's suffocating. Who cares what she does?"

Back then, it hadn't bothered me. I thought one day, he would see my worth.

Now, it did.

After hanging up, I sent a group text to our mutual friends. "From now on, if Sterling is going to be there, please don't invite me."

Then, I hailed a cab and went back to my own apartment.

After a shower, I began gathering Sterling's things. I methodically packed his Armani suits, his collection of Patek Philippe watches, his car keys—everything—into a large suitcase and called a courier to have it sent to his penthouse.

My best friend, Chloe Jenkins, showed up around the same time as the courier, having clearly heard the news.

When she saw the packed suitcase, she blurted out, "Scarlett, are you leaving?"

I smiled and opened the suitcase for her to see. "What are you talking about? This is all Sterling's stuff. I'm sending it back."

Chloe froze. After the courier left with the suitcase, she stared at me in disbelief. "Weren't you and Sterling supposed to get married today? What happened? I thought you two were…" She trailed off as the realization dawned.

She knew about all the other times. She was shaking with anger. "He stood you up again? That bastard. No wonder you sent that group text. I bet that bitch Blair is behind this. Come on. We're going to find her and give her a piece of our minds."

Despite my protests, Chloe dragged me to a members-only club.

Just as we reached the entrance to the VIP lounge, Sterling's voice drifted out. "Oh, stop worrying. It's been years. Scarlett talks tough, but when has she ever actually left me? She's just throwing a tantrum."

"Once she's done with her little fit, she'll come crawling back with her tail between her legs. She always does."

Standing outside the door, I bit the inside of my cheek until the sharp, coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. I'd given him everything, and to him, it was just a tantrum?

Seeing the tears welling in my eyes, Chloe squeezed my hand gently.

Just as she was about to push the door open, I stopped her.

In that moment, I never wanted to see Sterling's face again.

I grabbed Chloe's hand and turned to leave. We had just rounded the corner of the hallway when Sterling and Blair emerged from the lounge.

Blair's voice was the first I heard. "Sterling, you're drunk. Stop it. Scarlett would be heartbroken if she heard you."

"Isn't that what you wanted?" Sterling shot back. "You're the one who told me to say yes and then stand her up. You're a wicked girl, Blair."

Hearing that, I couldn't hold back my tears any longer.

So, it had all been a game. I was a joke to them. No wonder there wasn't a hint of joy on Sterling's face when he'd agreed to marry me.

I'd been so blinded by a flicker of happiness that I'd completely missed the contempt in his eyes.

Blair leaned against him, tapping his chest playfully. "Oh, I'm the bad one? This was all you."

"I only did it to make you happy!"

They started kissing in the shadows of the terrace, completely lost in their own world.

Numbly, I let Chloe pull me away from the club.

The cool night air washed over me, but my heart felt like a block of ice in my chest.

"Scarlett, you're just too nice. That's why those two bastards have the guts to play you for a fool!" Chloe was still fuming.

I could only manage a weak smile, the taste of blood still lingering in my mouth. "It's over. From now on, I have nothing to do with Sterling Prescott."

After finally persuading Chloe to go home, I returned to my own apartment.

Just as I was almost home, the courier called.

He said he had arrived, but the recipient wasn't answering the phone.

Only then did I remember that Sterling never answered calls from unknown numbers. I told the courier to wait and hung up. Then, I dialed Sterling's number.

From the noise in the background, he was still at a club. Despite the loud music, I could hear the smugness in his voice. "Calling me so soon?"

"What happened to that fire you had when you walked out on me at City Hall?"

The old me would have swallowed my pride, apologized, and tried to placate him.

Now, I just said calmly, "I sent your things over. They're at your doorstep. Remember to grab them when you get home."

Sterling's tone grew even more smug. "What did you buy me this time, Scarlett? Trying to butter me up? I thought you told everyone you were done with me. What, already crawling back with your tail between your legs?"

I didn't answer. I just hung up.

Right before the line went dead, I heard him asking what gift I'd sent, saying he'd have to see if he liked it before deciding whether to forgive me.

A cold, humorless laugh escaped my lips.

After all these years of chasing him like a fool, he probably thought I had no dignity left. It didn't matter. He would find out just how wrong he was.