On the eve of our wedding, Alan's ex, Izabella, posted a picture of her sapphire engagement ring on Instagram.

I gave the photo a closer look. It was the same ring Alan and I had designed together—one of a kind, crafted with my own hands. Now, it's on her finger.

After pondering it all night, I calmly suggested we part ways the next morning.

Alan, seemingly unmoved, said, "Inaya, we're about to tie the knot. Think it over. Don't make a decision you'll regret."

"I won't."

Later, Alan called me in the middle of the night, clearly drunk.

"Inaya, where are you? You're not home."

---

After Izabella's Instagram post, I told Alan I wanted to break up. He was taken aback.

"Break up? Our wedding's in two weeks. The invites have been sent. You want to cancel everything now?"

I didn't respond. Instead, I laid out a list in front of him.

"Yes, break up. I don't want anything from you—I just want to end this."

I was twenty-four when I got engaged to Alan, who was twenty-seven. Not long after, I moved in with him. I always assumed our marriage was a done deal, so during the two years we lived together, I accepted the gifts he showered me with—bags, jewelry, shares, and property. Now that we were ending it, those things needed sorting out.

Alan glanced at the list casually and set it aside, showing no concern.

"What's the reason?" He paused and added, "Because Izabella wore your ring? I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was the engagement ring. I've told my assistant to get it back. You'll have it soon."

His expression remained calm, but I couldn't keep my anger in check. That ring took me six months to create and embodied my hopes and dreams of love. After finishing it, I couldn't bear to wear it, saving it for the wedding day. I'd been away for just two weeks when Alan handed it over to Izabella.

It broke my heart to see the ring on her finger.

And now he acts like it was an innocent mistake. Did he really not know? Does a simple "I didn't know" fix everything?

I yelled, "Enough! First the engagement ring, then what? Will I need to step aside for her to become Mrs. Armstrong?"

"If that's how it is, wouldn't it be better if I just gracefully stepped back and made room for her?"

He looked at me with dissatisfaction, almost puzzled by my strong reaction.

He began lecturing me. "Inaya, there's no need for jealousy. You know our marriage is about alliances, not love. Your position as Mrs. Armstrong isn't threatened."

"This time, I'll let it go. Don't bring up breaking up again. Just be a good Mrs. Armstrong."

He slid a card over to me.

"There's five hundred thousand on it, for your troubles."

I glanced at the card with a detached gaze, feeling somewhat lost in my thoughts. Alan, despite his undeniable charm, was perpetually focused on business. Our engagement was more about what he stood to gain than anything else.

At first, he was cold and unapproachable. As we spent more time together, he began grooming me, expecting me to fit the mold of a perfect high-society wife. What he failed to grasp was that a socialite only needs to appear poised and elegant, whereas his intended spouse might actually develop feelings for him.

I couldn't manage to be as emotionally detached as he was, nor could I accept the threat to our impending marriage, especially knowing that Izabella, his first love from his past, was the one he had once desired but never claimed.

Tears landed on the back of my hand, pulling me back to reality. I wiped them away, returned the card to him, and forced a smile. "There's no need for this, Mr. Armstrong. We're not compatible; it's better if we part ways."

It was rare for anyone to reject Alan twice. He was highly respected in the financial world, admired and full of pride. But when I suggested a breakup again, he didn't flinch.

"Fine, just don't regret it."

"What I've given away holds no value to me anymore. Money isn't something I lack, Inaya."

I retrieved the list of my possessions, taking the card as well.

"Very well, no regrets."

"I've arranged for movers to come. It'll be a bit noisy soon, my apologies if it bothers you."

Alan lit a cigarette, his demeanor unchanged.

"It's fine."

With that, I turned to leave. Soon, the movers arrived at the house.

"Remove all the women's items."

In the bedroom, I packed my jewelry into the safe and gave detailed instructions.

"Please be careful, there are delicate items here."

Three hours later, the villa felt starkly empty.

I glanced back one final time at the home I'd had for three years, catching sight of Alan leaning against the door with an indecipherable expression.

I had no intention of bidding farewell again. As I turned to depart, I noticed Izabella arriving, carrying a tray with coffee and a honey cake spiced with hints of cinnamon.

She approached me with tear-filled eyes and a sugary tone, gripping my hand. "Ms. Chapman, I'm really sorry. I didn’t realize this ring meant so much to you. I only asked Alan for it because I thought it was lovely."

"I assumed you had plenty of rings, unlike me with none. I thought you wouldn't mind. Please, don’t be angry; I'll give it back to you right away."

She then attempted to remove the ring from her finger, but after struggling for a while, her hand turned red.

I couldn’t help but feel a mixture of frustration and amusement.

This wasn’t an apology; it was a clear attempt at provocation.

If she were truly sorry, she wouldn’t have strutted in wearing my engagement ring so boldly.

Her act was probably to draw attention.

As expected, Alan approached us next.

He gently took Izabella’s hand, looking concerned.

“If it’s stuck, just leave it. Don’t hurt yourself over it. How about this, Inaya, I’ll give you $300,000 for it.”

Upon hearing this, Izabella looked at Alan with emotional, tender eyes.

I stood right in front of them, watching their display, and felt my anger rise.

“It’s not for sale. I designed this engagement ring myself. Take it off immediately!”

Alan frowned, clearly displeased.

Izabella clung to his arm, pretending to feel guilty, "Alan, this belongs to Ms. Chapman. I should return it."

She went to the bathroom, used some soap, and returned the ring to me.

I reached out to take it, but as soon as I saw it clearly, my anger escalated.

“You changed the ring’s size?”

She shrank back a bit, hiding behind Alan.

“It was a little too big, so I had it resized.”

“I’m so sorry, I’ll find a designer to fix it right away.”

I couldn’t hold back my anger any longer and slapped her.

“Now that you’ve made it smaller, how do you expect to fix it?”

“Izabella, you’re truly contemptible.”

“Inaya!”

Alan shouted, stepping protectively in front of Izabella.

“Don’t overreact! I’m the one who gave it to her. Why blame her instead of me?”

I looked at him coldly, momentarily forgetting his involvement, and slapped him too.

Alan’s expression turned dark instantly.

“Do you think you don’t disgust me? Both of you make me sick.”

“Get out, and don’t ever show up in front of me again.”

With those words, I walked away with the movers, indifferent to their reactions.