Betrayed by My Boyfriend, I Married a CEO in a Flash

"Victor, are you really going to say yes to Willow Sullivan?"

In the smoke-filled private room, a man stood and poured Victor Henson a glass of liquor, tossing out the question like idle gossip.

Victor took the cigarette pack, stuck one between his lips, and lit it with a careless smile. "Would you date a soulless, boring doormat? She's just something to mess with when I'm bored."

The room erupted in laughter. The guy who'd asked gave Victor a thumbs-up. "That's our boy. That idiot Willow's probably racing through the rain right now, all giddy to deliver your medicine."

At that moment, the "idiot" they were mocking stood just outside the door, hearing every word.

Her grip on the glass bottle tightened. With a sharp crack, blood mixed with rainwater dripped from her fingertips.

Searing pain.

Willow Sullivan had loved Victor Henson for eight years. Eight years of pouring everything she had into him.

When he traveled for business, she booked his flights and packed his bags.

When his stomach acted up, she—someone who'd never touched a stove—taught herself to cook, just so he could eat something gentle.

When he entertained clients, one phone call was all it took. She'd show up, drink on his behalf until she was throwing up in the bathroom.

Tonight, rain hammered the city. Victor had called, claiming his stomach was flaring up, demanding she deliver medicine within ten minutes. He'd even dangled the promise: make it in time, and he'd finally agree to be with her.

She thought she was finally seeing daylight. She didn't realize this was just Victor's way of training a dog.

Her fingers slowly uncurled. Crushed glass and blood scattered across the floor, and Willow's eyes burned red.

She tucked a soaked strand of hair behind her ear with trembling hands. Passersby stared at her like she was some kind of freak, only whispering once they'd walked far enough away.

Her phone buzzed. She pulled it out numbly and answered. It was her uncle.

"Willow, it's so late—why aren't you home yet?"

Before she could respond, her aunt's voice cut in from the background. "If she doesn't want to come back, then don't force her. The girl's grown—you can't keep her chained to your side forever. Right now she's got tunnel vision for that Victor Henson. You think she even remembers she has an uncle? I'm telling you, don't meddle too much, or you'll just annoy her."

"What are you going on about?"

"What am I going on about, Joseph Mason? So now I can't even speak in this house anymore, is that it?"

Listening to them argue, Willow's grip on the phone trembled.

Ever since her uncle's company hit trouble, fights like this had become constant.

And she knew the real problem was her. But she...

She took a deep breath, guilt twisting in her chest. "Uncle, Aunt—I'll do it. I'll marry into the Farley family."

Silence on the other end.

Then her aunt Georgia Fletcher's voice came through, stunned. "Willow, what did you just say?"

Everyone in Harbor City's elite circles knew Willow Sullivan had chased Victor Henson for eight years, swearing she'd marry no one else.

Because of it, Georgia had endured endless mockery at society gatherings.

Toad lusting after swan meat, they called her niece.

"I'm sorry, Aunt. For all the worry I've caused you. I won't be selfish anymore."

"Willow, are you okay? Where are you? Let your uncle come get you." Georgia had wished countless times that Willow would agree to the Farley marriage and save the company from ruin—but hearing that hollow voice now, worry crept through her.

Willow had sworn off Victor before. Every time, she'd mope for a few days, then go right back to orbiting him. No amount of persuading ever worked.

This time felt different. Wrong.

"I'm fine. I'm staying at a friend's place tonight. I won't be coming home."

Willow forced a smile, though it looked worse than tears.

After hanging up, she glanced back at the private room door just steps away.

She never wanted to love Victor Henson again.

This time, it really was a clean break.