The Billionaire's Shattered Bride I Found Love After You Broke Me

Instinctively, I thought of Seth.

Just one more time. I'd trust him one last time.

Clinging to that thought, I called him.

The call hadn't even connected before one of the thugs ripped the phone from my hand and smashed it against the pavement.

It wasn't until the ringtone on the other end died on its own that he finally deigned to send a text.

"Don't bother me unless it's important."

"Annoying."

The light in my eyes dimmed, word by word.

Seeing that, the thugs' gazes turned darker, their movements bolder. One of them tore open my blouse.

"Looks like whoever you called for help doesn't plan on saving you, sweetheart."

"I heard she used to go for a dollar a night. Now she's playing the virtuous maiden?"

When the coins hit my body again, the memories came flooding back, impossible to stop.

When Seth had spent a fortune tracking me down, I'd still been on my knees begging for a waitressing job.

After my birth parents took me home, the family love I'd craved shattered like a soap bubble at the first touch.

My father was a gambler. When he drank, he took a belt to me until my skin split open and bled.

My mother had cancer. She died not long after.

So I was passed around, sold from one person to the next. I never finished high school. I survived on odd jobs.

I was working at a diner when my father tracked me down. Said he'd turned over a new leaf. Instead, he drugged me and hung a degrading sign around my neck advertising me for a dollar a night.

Coins pelted my skin. A vagrant dragged me onto a filthy mattress by force.

And in that moment, when I had no one and nothing left, Seth appeared.

He pulled me into his arms, shielding me completely, and his voice cut through the air like a blade.

"She is my one and only fiancée. Anyone who touches her answers to the entire Vance family."

After that, he taught me taekwondo.

He said that once I could defend myself, I'd never have to be afraid again. Even when he wasn't by my side, I could protect myself.

I replayed every move Seth had taught me, pacing my energy, and put every last one of them on the ground.

They scrambled away like rats.

Memory and reality blurred together, and the truth settled over me like cold water. Seth wasn't here anymore.

I laughed bitterly and bent down to pick up the coins scattered across the pavement from the fight.

The man who used to ache at the slightest hint of my suffering, who would have taken every bruise onto his own body if he could—where had he gone?

Two people who had loved each other that deeply. How had it come to this?

Only in that moment did it finally hit me. Cinderella was never meant to become a princess.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a hospital bed. Someone had cleaned and dressed the cuts on my face.

Seth spooned oatmeal to my lips, and the concern in his eyes was impossible to hide.

Something in my chest softened without warning. But before the feeling could take root, Zoe called, and just like that, he left.

My repaired phone sat on the nightstand. The screen lit up again. It was a message from the international firm I'd interviewed with.

"Congratulations. After careful review, you have been selected for the position. We sincerely invite you to join our team."

I typed back that I accepted the offer but needed a little time to handle some personal matters.

They agreed without hesitation.

Back at the house, I started packing, exhaustion weighing down every movement.

When I finished, I realized everything I owned fit into a single suitcase.

As expected, Seth didn't come home that night. For once, I slept soundly.

My phone lit up again. A notification that the birthday gift I'd ordered in advance had been delivered to the villa.

There was no reason to give it anymore.

I hesitated for a moment, then went to the front door to collect the package anyway.

I didn't expect what I found when I opened it. Zoe and Seth stood on the doorstep together, and I caught the tail end of their conversation—they were discussing wedding details.