After Seeing Through My Fiancee's Lies, I Chose Revenge!

To protect his fiancée Andrea Twitty and her supposed unborn child, he willingly went to prison for her childhood sweetheart, Alan Farmer. But the promise of marriage upon his release was nothing but a cruel deception. Stepping out of prison, he discovers the devastating truth: the pregnancy was a lie, his mother has committed suicide in his absence, and Andrea is happily living with Alan in the very home meant for their wedding. Left with nothing, his love turns to a burning desire for retribution.

Chapters

Chapter 3

When I came downstairs, I was overwhelmed by a pungent smell. Then I saw a durian cake on the dining table.

I held back my nausea and ran to the bathroom to vomit.

I hated durian.

My dad ran long distances when I was a kid. He was carrying a load of durian one day, and he got into an accident. By the time we got there, I saw my dad's body mixed with the broken durian. I passed out on the spot.

I had a high fever for three days before waking up.

Since then, whenever I saw or smelt durian, I couldn't help but feel nauseous.

Damian knew, but he still asked me deliberately.

"Alan, don't you like the surprise I had for you?"

I ignored him and turned to look at Andrea. "We haven't seen each other for three years. When have I ever had durian cake on my birthday?"

Before Andrea could speak, Damian quickly protected her behind him with a pitiful look.

"Alan, don't be mean to her. I ordered the cake."

I remembered that when I walked out of prison, Andrea was talking on the phone. She said to the person on the other end of the line to pick the cake.

She didn't remember my preferences, whereas he intentionally tried to mess with me.

Good for her. Good for him!

"I'm sorry, Alan, it's my fault. I forgot to tell him. He didn't mean to. Well, let's skip the cake and have dinner!" Andrea walked over and hugged my waist, apologizing coquettishly.

I didn't wanna make a fuss, so I sat down while suppressing my anger for the time being.

When the dishes were brought to the table, I looked at the coriander on all the dishes, feeling bitter.

In the first few years when I was with Andrea, every time we went out and had a meal, she would always tell the kitchen staff to skip the coriander. Once, the kitchen staff forgot to, and when she saw the coriander, she picked it out for me. Yet today, she didn't even notice there was coriander on the dishes.

She kept putting food on my plate, and I forced myself to eat it.

She forgot, perhaps.

Am I being too sensitive about everything? Or has it always been like this?

Continue to next part