Dumped by the Man I Saved, I Married His Worst Nightmare

The silence of the hotel was suffocating. My chest ached, a gnawing emptiness that grew heavier with every unanswered call.

I threw another suit into my luggage, grabbing the phone with my other hand. “Book me a flight,” I barked at the airline. “Earliest one to the States. I don’t care what it costs—just get me there tonight.”

Behind me, Yvette’s voice sliced through the room. “Seriously, Dorian? You’re going to postpone our wedding for that? We’re in Maldives! Everyone’s expecting this wedding!”

I stilled, my hands clenching into fists. “I don’t care. I’m going back to Camille.”

She crossed her arms, eyes flashing. “What about the merger? The contracts? You know you need this. And for what? Because she didn’t come home last night? And is not replying to you?” Her tone dripped with mockery. “If you ask me, she’s just making this a big deal to get your attention.”

I didn’t reply and just continued thinking about Camille.

“Come on! She’s such a nothing, poor bitch, who’s clinging to you like a parasite!” she added.

Something in me snapped. I turned, my palm striking her cheek before I even realized what I’d done. The sound cracked through the air, followed by her sharp cry.

“You dare—” Yvette clutched her face, eyes wide with disbelief. “You dare hurt me for her? For that woman?” Her voice pitched higher, hysterical. “My parents will hear of this! They’ll never accept you after this!”

“What’s going on here?”

My mother’s voice cut in, calm but venomous, as she stepped into the room. Vivienne’s sharp eyes darted from Yvette’s trembling form to the half-packed luggage at my feet.

“He’s postponing the wedding to chase after her,” Yvette spat, her finger pointing at me like an accusation.

Vivienne’s face darkened. “Are you insane, Dorian?”

“No,” I said firmly, turning to meet her gaze. “For once, I’m not. This wedding, this whole thing—it’s fake. It’s all for business. But my marriage to Camille? That’s real. And I won’t give her up.”

Her lips curled in disdain. “She’s nothing but a gold digger.”

“No,” I snapped, my voice breaking. “She’s not. It’s my fault she left. I pushed her away. I hurt her—God, I humiliated her—because I thought I was protecting her. But all I did was destroy the one person who ever stayed.”

My mother’s expression shifted, a cruel sort of amusement in her eyes. “Is that what you think? That she’s innocent?”

“What are you saying?”

“She left you, Dorian,” Vivienne said smoothly. “She asked me for ten million dollars. I transferred it to her account myself.”

My chest tightened. “No. You’re lying.”

“Am I?” She pulled out her phone, her perfectly manicured fingers tapping a few buttons. A video played, Camille’s voice trembling: ‘I’ll take the money. Just prepare it in five days.’

And then—the proof. The transfer, her name etched beside the sum.

My head shook violently. “No… no, she would never…”

“She did,” my mother said simply.

The words struck me like a blade. My knees almost buckled as I staggered back, clutching the edge of the table for support.

My breath caught in my throat, and before I could stop it, a flood of memories came crashing into me.

The hospital. The sterile smell of antiseptic. The fog in my head when I first woke up, not knowing who I was, not even my own name.

And her. Camille.

I saw her again as if she were right in front of me. That tiny, dimly lit apartment where she brought me after the doctors released me with no one to claim me.

She had nothing, not even enough space to call it a home, but she gave me what she could.

I remembered waking up on her thin mattress, my body aching, my mind blank. She sat on the floor beside me, peeling potatoes with hands that shook from exhaustion.

“Where… am I?” I croaked, my voice raw.

She looked up, startled, then gave me the smallest, most reassuring smile. “You’re safe. That’s what matters. Don’t strain yourself.”

“Who… are you?” My chest tightened at the thought that I couldn’t even recognize her.

She hesitated, then placed the bowl aside. “I’m Camille. You don’t know me, but I… found you. And until you’re strong enough, I’ll take care of you.”

I remembered the way I stared at her, confused. “Why? You don’t even know me.”

Her lips trembled, but she lifted her chin with quiet resolve. “Because someone has to.”

She had nothing. But she never asked me for anything.

I had promised her the world. And in return, I gave her lies.

“I refuse to believe this,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “No. Not Camille.”

“Then stay blind,” Vivienne hissed. “But understand this—if you go after her, if you choose her over us, you will never step foot as my heir again. You’ll lose everything.”

Her words hung in the air like a curse.

But what was wealth, what was power, when the one person I wanted most was already gone?

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. I simply zipped the luggage and walked past her, Yvette’s shrill protests ringing in my ears.

The private jet felt colder than ever as I boarded. My phone was clutched tightly in my hand, the screen lighting up with her name—voicemail, unanswered calls, message after message left unread.

Blocked.

The finality of it carved a hollow into my chest.

As the plane lifted into the night sky, I leaned back, staring blankly at the stars outside the window. Memories haunted me with every breath—her laughter when she burned herself in the kitchen and I scolded her gently, her tearful smile when I swore I’d give her everything once I had the money, her quiet strength when she told me she’d wait for me no matter how long.

And now?

All I could hear was my own voice breaking in the silence.

“Please,” I whispered, pressing the phone to my lips. “Please don’t leave me. I’m sorry, Camille. I’m so sorry.”

The tears came then, unbidden, hot and relentless. And the bitter fear that when he returned home, she would be gone forever.