Framed by My Fiancée and Her Assistant

For the third time, I smelled men's perfume on my fiancée. It was identical to the one her male assistant often wore.

For the third time, I caught the faint scent of men’s cologne on my fiancée. It was unmistakably the same fragrance her male assistant always wore.

Deep down, I knew—Selena Hart had probably fallen for another man.

I didn’t hesitate. I called off our engagement that very night.

Tearfully, she swore she would sever all ties with her assistant, love only me, and make things right.

Because of our long history together, I decided to give her one last chance.

Three days later, Selena attended the Autumn Festival Banquet dinner in full view of everyone—pushing her male assistant’s wheelchair.

When I confronted her, she screamed for the entire hall to hear.

“Ethan Cole, you might have used your tricks to get me, but you’ll never win my heart!”

“Lucas loves me! Even if you break his other leg—or even kill him—he’ll never leave me!”

“For love, we have no regrets!”

The entire audience gasped in shock.

To them, I instantly became the villain—a cruel, heartless man who had forced a woman into marriage and crippled her lover.

Under the weight of their condemning stares, I simply smiled.

If they wanted a monster, then I would be one.

——

After Selena’s hoarse outburst, the grand hall fell eerily silent. The crowd’s earlier confusion quickly turned to disgust.

“I never thought the Cole family’s young master would be this kind of man…”

“Force a marriage and break someone’s leg? That’s barbaric.”

“Looks can deceive. The Cole family may be rich, but their heir is rotten inside.”

“No wonder Selena lost control. She’s suffered too much…”

The whispers spread like wildfire.

Expressionless, I stood still, my gaze sweeping coldly across Selena and Lucas Grant—the pitiful figure in the wheelchair before her.

Selena, emboldened by her own performance and the crowd’s sympathy, gripped the wheelchair tightly. Her eyes shimmered with tears, her expression the very image of tragic devotion.

Lucas Grant played his role perfectly—his pale face full of pain, his trembling voice barely holding back fear.

“Young Master Ethan,” he said weakly, “this is my fault. I couldn’t help falling in love with Selena. She’s innocent…”

“Please… have mercy. Spare the Hart family. Spare her.”

He took a deep breath, straightened his back, and continued with feigned courage.

“If you’re still not satisfied, then come at me alone.”

“If you want to beat or kill me, I’ll accept it—but don’t make things hard for her.”

His pitiful self-sacrifice stirred even more sympathy from the onlookers.

People murmured in admiration of his so-called bravery, and others sighed in pity for Selena’s supposed suffering.

And all their anger turned to me—the Cole family’s heir, a cold and domineering man who trampled on love and used power to destroy others’ happiness.

Selena wept and clung to Lucas. “Lucas, stop! Don’t do this for me! If we die, then we die together!”

What a touching performance—so moving that even though I almost believed it.

If I weren’t the betrayed fiancé standing in their shadow, I might have applauded their grand, star-crossed romance.

Instead, I laughed.

The sound was sharp, echoing through the suffocating air. Everyone turned toward me, uneasy and silent.

“Coming after you?”

I repeated his words slowly, my tone even, yet colder than ice.

“Lucas,” I said, meeting his eyes, “who do you think you are? Do you really believe you’re worth my attention?”

"Lucas, who do you think you are? Are you worthy of my dedicated attention?"