At my wedding, my husband, Julian Thorne, left me at the altar for his ex-girlfriend, Blair Covington.

His idea of compensation was the card for a high-end companion service and a black card with no spending limit.

After three straight months of waiting in an empty bridal suite, I told Julian I wanted a divorce.

"Is this your new trick to get my attention?"

Julian finally deigned to look up from his documents, a mocking glint in his eyes.

"If you're bored, I can rent out any shop on Fifth Avenue for you. You don't need to pull stunts like this."

His phone lit up. Julian glanced at it, then stood to leave.

"I don't have time for your games. Blair's flight just landed."

The sheer absurdity of it all hit me as I looked at the man who had promised me a lifetime just four months ago.

"Julian, I'm not kidding."

"I don't want you anymore."

————————

1

Julian chuckled.

"Why so serious? You're no fun."

He ruffled my hair as if I were a pet he was placating.

"Alright, stop making a scene. I'm incredibly busy today."

"If you're that unhappy, just wait until Blair leaves in a few days. I'll even set aside a whole day just for you. How does that sound?"

Before I could speak, Julian turned to his assistant.

"Are the preparations ready?"

The assistant immediately stepped forward and rattled off the arrangements.

"The car for Miss Covington is arranged—the model she prefers."

"Her favorite champagne is chilled and waiting in the car."

"The custom gift you selected, as well as the reservation at the vegan French restaurant, are all confirmed."

Julian listened, then gave his assistant a few more last-minute instructions.

"Tell the restaurant to dim the lights. Blair finds bright lighting too harsh."

"Have her favorite band on standby. I want the music to start the moment we arrive to set the mood."

"Instruct the head chef that tonight's dessert must be vegan."

"All the fresh flowers must be pollen-free."

...

Julian continued giving instructions for ten minutes.

His attention to detail was staggering; he even specified the thread count for the party napkins.

Only then did he seem satisfied.

"Got all that?"

Blair had been gone for eight years, yet Julian still remembered every single one of her preferences.

Julian finally spared me another glance.

"Hmm? Why are you still here?"

"Oh, right. Your compensation."

"Like we agreed. If I'm spending my time and energy on Blair, it's only fair that I make it up to you."

Julian glanced at the pile of gifts on the table intended for Blair.

A few smaller boxes sat beside them.

His eyes swept over the boxes, as if briefly weighing which trinket to toss my way.

Finally, he gave up, pulled a black card from his wallet, and held it out to me.

"A black card. Go buy yourself something."

"I don't have the patience to pick something out for you."

When he saw I made no move to take it, Julian raised an eyebrow.

"What, not enough?"

I shook my head and stubbornly repeated my question.

"You still remember everything Blair likes?"

Julian let out a soft laugh. "There's nothing to remember or not remember."

"Pleasing Blair... at this point, it's instinct."

I wasn't surprised.

But a sharp, undeniable ache still pierced my chest.

Seeing my silence, Julian sighed.

"Alright, you should go now."

"If Blair even senses you've been here, she'll throw a fit."

As he spoke, he played a voice message on his phone.

Blair's petulant voice filled the office.

"I don't want to see her. That pathetic social-climbing slut."

"Everyone in New York knows you're my man. How dare she even touch you? Tell her to get the hell away from you."

She spoke as if she were his wife, and I was the shameless mistress.

Julian switched off his phone and patted my head condescendingly.

"There, there. You know her temper."

"Be a good girl and go buy yourself something nice."

"I'll be back once Blair gets bored and leaves."

I was escorted out of the office by Julian's assistant.

He had a young secretary drive me home.

In the car, the secretary kept trying to console me.

"Mrs. Thorne, please don't be angry."

"Mr. Thorne really does care about you."

I didn't say anything, just gazed out the window.

The secretary, thinking I didn't believe her, added anxiously, "If Miss Covington truly wanted to marry him, she would have done it eight years ago. You wouldn't have even had a chance."

"The fact that he chose to marry you after all these years proves you're special to him."

"Someone like Miss Covington is a flash in the pan. Mr. Thorne will come back to you, you'll see."

I could tell her intentions were good.

Just like everyone else around me.

They all advised me to cherish what I had.

They all said that for an orphan from the foster care system, marrying a tech mogul like Julian Thorne was the chance of a lifetime.

In their world, it was normal for high-society couples to have affairs.

Julian was only seeing Blair; it wasn't like he was keeping a string of mistresses.

I should be content.

I knew all this.

I knew Julian would come back.

But I was tired.

I just didn't want him anymore.

In the beginning, Julian was the one who pursued me.

Everyone knew he had once been Blair's most devoted suitor.

He pursued her with gestures so grand the entire university became an audience to his spectacle.

But on the very day he was preparing to propose, Blair left the country without a word, chasing after some European aristocrat.

Julian sped to the airport after her, got into a car accident, and was in critical care for a month.

As an illustrator juggling three jobs just to make ends meet, I should never have been caught in the crossfire of the rich and powerful.

But after seeing a report about my work, Julian specifically requested me as his private caregiver.

The salary he offered was astronomical.

I thought it was just a rich boy's whim.

Only later did I learn that he'd noticed me at an art exhibition long before the accident.

He had simply overheard someone mention me—a poor student buying art supplies on an installment plan.

He was like a distant sun—dazzling, brilliant, and scorching to the touch.

Later, Julian pursued me for four years.

Far longer than his entanglement with Blair.

So long, in fact, that when people mentioned Blair's name, he'd have to pause, as if searching his memory for who they meant.

Only then did I agree to be with him.

I didn't have much confidence in our relationship.

But Julian took me to meet his family and friends, time and time again.

He took me to his company.

He made a point of introducing me to everyone as the girlfriend he'd spent years pursuing.

Julian knew that many people compared me to Blair.

So, less than a year into our relationship, he formally proposed.

He said he wanted everyone to know that I was the one he chose to marry, not her.

He even spent a full year planning our wedding.

Julian handled every detail personally.

He said he wanted to give me a perfect wedding.

But on our wedding day, the only thing that arrived was the news of Blair's return.

In that moment, more than sadness, I felt a grim sense of relief—the kind that comes when a dark premonition finally proves true.

But Julian promised he wouldn't divorce me.

He promised it would be six months, tops. Once Blair was gone, he swore he would be the same Julian who loved me.

But I didn't want to wait anymore.