Dumped at My Own Engagement, I Became the Heiress He Could Never Reach

Even though I'd already decided to end things, hearing those words still felt like a wad of cotton had been shoved into my chest.

Suffocating. Unbearable.

Laurence didn't like me showing my face in public, and he refused to eat out. So I'd willingly become the woman behind the curtain, content to stay in his shadow.

Four years of genuine devotion, and in his eyes, I was nothing but a gold-digging parasite.

He had no idea that those papers weren't some bridal gift checklist.

They were share-transfer documents worth over a hundred million dollars.

I looked at him steadily.

"Laurence, you know exactly what that jade pendant represents. It marks the matriarch of the Morton family."

"And you gave it to Camille. What does that make me?"

Laurence let out a derisive laugh, one brow arching high.

"Camille is an outstanding professional and my right hand at the company. She deserves it."

"You're deadweight. A woman who can't survive without a man to bankroll her. The fact that I agreed to this engagement at all was already more than you deserved."

"Gillian, I'm telling you to quit while you're ahead. Walk through the motions like a good girl. If you want a jade pendant so badly, I'll pick one up at an antique auction for you later. But if you keep throwing tantrums, don't blame me when I cut you loose for real."

He still didn't understand.

It was never about the object. It was about what it meant.

Or maybe, in his mind, my feelings had never mattered to begin with.

"Is that so? Be my guest."

I said it calmly, then turned to leave.

But several bodyguards blocked my path at the door, forming a wall across the exit.

Laurence drained the last of his red wine, his tone lazy and unhurried.

"Gillian, since you insist on breaking things off, shouldn't you return what's mine first?"

"Don't forget. That gown you're wearing? I paid for it."

His gaze carried a chill.

"So take it off."

I froze.

I'd come straight here in the gown. I hadn't brought a change of clothes.

And Laurence knew that.

Looking at that familiar face, a bitter laugh almost escaped me. I must have been truly blind back then, falling for someone like him.

One of the guests couldn't bear it any longer and spoke up. "Mr. Morton, there are so many people here. Miss Wiley is still a lady. Surely you could leave her some dignity."

Laurence crossed one leg over the other, unmoved.

"That's exactly the problem. I gave her too much face in the past, and it only made her more willful. It's time she learned to behave."

"Gillian, if you don't want to strip, just say you were wrong. Promise you'll stop making things difficult for Camille, and the engagement banquet can continue."

Camille perched herself on his lap, covering her mouth with a coy giggle.

"Gilly, he's already giving you a way out. Why be so stubborn?"

"Don't worry, nobody here will judge you for going back on your word. After all, we've all seen plenty of women like you."

Laurence gave her waist an affectionate squeeze, clearly pleased with how she'd put me in my place.

The gawking stares of the crowd scorched me like open flame.

Shame surged through my chest, thick and scalding.

This was exactly what Laurence wanted.

He wanted me to understand that I was nothing more than a plaything tethered to him. He could grant me dignity, and he could crush it whenever he pleased.

Just as everyone expected me to cave, I pulled the gown off without a flicker of expression, lifted it, and tossed it into the trash can beside me.

I walked out of the hotel without looking back, ignoring the shock frozen in Laurence's eyes.

Outside, it had started to rain.

I thought about hailing a cab, but my phone was already dead. My ID was still back at the villa. All I could do was walk home through the downpour.

The thin camisole and shorts I'd had on underneath soaked through in seconds, clinging to my skin. Passersby turned to stare.