After My Fiancé Abandoned Me, His Billionaire Rival Saved Me

Tuesday morning, I stopped at a high-end cafe near my office. The air smelled of roasted espresso and warm pastries. I was standing by the counter, waiting for my iced matcha latte. Suddenly, a familiar, sickly-sweet perfume hit my nose. Vanilla and cheap floral.

Skyla.

"Charlotte," she said softly.

I turned around. She wore a loose, white cashmere sweater. She held her hands delicately over her flat stomach. Her eyes were wide, playing the innocent victim as always.

"What do you want, Skyla?" I asked. My voice was completely flat.

She sighed and reached into her designer purse. "I didn't want you to hear it from someone else. I know you're hurting." She slid a glossy square of paper across the small marble table.

I looked down. It was a sonogram.

"Andrew and I are having a baby," she whispered. Her lips twitched into a smug, victorious smile. "He's so excited. We're getting married next month."

For seven years, this woman made my life a living hell. She ruined my Thanksgiving proposal. She stole my suite in Aspen. She expected me to cry right now. She wanted me to break.

I looked at the black-and-white printout, then back at her. I felt absolutely nothing. No heartbreak. No anger. Just pure, cold clarity.

"Congratulations," I said evenly. I picked up my drink from the counter.

Skyla frowned. My calm reaction clearly annoyed her. She stepped closer, dropping the sweet act. "You don't have to pretend, Charlotte. It's sad, really. You wasted your youth on him. And now... you have nothing. I won."

I set my cup down. I didn't yell. I didn't argue. I just raised my right hand and swung.

*Smack.*

The sharp sound cracked through the quiet cafe like a whip. Skyla gasped and stumbled back. Her hand flew to her bright red cheek. Tears instantly sprang to her eyes. The barista stopped wiping the counter. People turned to look at us.

"Keep him," I said softly. My voice was as cold as the Aspen snow. "You two parasites deserve exactly what you get."

I picked up my latte and walked out the glass doors.

The morning air hit my face. I took a deep breath, feeling incredibly light. But my peace didn't last long.

"Char!"

I stopped. Andrew stepped out from behind a parked car. He looked worse than he did in the lobby last week. His hair was greasy. His expensive suit was wrinkled. He looked like a man drowning.

"I saw that," he panted, pointing a shaking finger toward the cafe window. "I saw what she did. I know she's pushing it. I'm sorry."

"Leave me alone, Andrew."

He grabbed my arm. His grip was weak and clammy. "Listen to me! I don't want to marry her. I don't!"

I stared at him in pure disgust. "She's pregnant with your child."

"I don't care!" he begged. His eyes were wide and frantic. "I'll call off the wedding right now. I'll just pay child support. I don't have to see her. I just want you back. Please, Char. You're the only good thing I ever had. I'll do anything!"

My stomach violently turned. This was the man I almost married. A man who would abandon his pregnant fiancé at the drop of a hat just to save his own skin. He had absolutely no loyalty to anyone. He never cared about my nut allergy. He never cared about my feelings. He only cared about his own comfort.

I yanked my arm away. "You are disgusting," I whispered. "Don't ever speak to me again."

I left him standing on the sidewalk, entirely broken and alone.

When I got back to the penthouse that evening, Buster trotted up to greet me. I knelt down and rubbed his golden ears.

"Rough day?" a deep voice asked.

Sterling walked into the foyer. He wore dark sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt. He looked incredibly handsome. He held a thick, cream-colored envelope in his hand.

"What's that?" I asked, standing up.

His jaw tightened. The muscles in his neck jumped. "It arrived by courier an hour ago."

He handed it to me. I broke the gold wax seal. It was a VIP wedding invitation. Heavy cardstock. Elegant cursive letters. *Andrew Miller and Skyla Rose.* Skyla had deliberately tracked down my new address just to twist the knife.

I let out a dry laugh and tossed it onto the kitchen island. "Throw it away."

Sterling stepped closer. He wrapped his strong arms around my waist from behind. His broad chest pressed against my back. He smelled like cedar and safety. He rested his chin on my shoulder, looking down at the invitation.

"No," he murmured. His voice was a low, dangerous rumble. "We're not throwing it away."

I turned my head to look at him. His dark eyes were completely cold. The playful, sweet man was gone. This was the ruthless billionaire CEO.

"We're going to that wedding, Charlotte," he promised softly, his thumb gently tracing my jawline. "She wanted your attention. We are going to give it to her. And I am going to burn their entire world to the ground."

A shiver of pure anticipation ran down my spine. I leaned back against his solid chest and smiled. "Okay."