Eight Years Wasted The Billionaire's Betrayed Fiancée

As if terrified I'd refuse, he hung up immediately.

Then he sent me a text:

Tilda, I'm begging you, please stop making a fuss. I'm just getting a marriage certificate with Claudia. It's a piece of paper, nothing more. It doesn't mean anything. Canceling the wedding is just so we can save your dream wedding for the perfect moment.

Those familiar words stung my eyes until they burned.

The perfect moment.

I'd been hearing that for eight years. Nearly three thousand days and nights, waiting for him to marry me.

And instead, I'd waited just long enough to watch him become someone else's legal husband.

Harrison, I'm done waiting for you.

Because we were never right for each other.

Harrison recalled the message.

Then a new one came through:

What I just sent isn't something Claudia should see. She's pregnant and reads too much into things. Anyway, just do what I asked. Whatever I owe you, I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you after the three years are up!

I laughed out loud.

I waited two minutes. Sure enough, he recalled that message too.

So which was it? Was he lying to me, or to himself?

If he was simply helping Claudia out of obligation, why would he care if she got upset over promises he'd made to me?

The baby in her belly wasn't even his, and he was already willing to go this far for her.

What if the baby was his?

I shook my head, banishing the thought before it could take root.

I typed a quick OK and hit send.

All I got back was a red exclamation mark.

He'd already deleted me. Couldn't wait to make Claudia feel better.

Fine by me.

I didn't dwell on it. I posted on social media announcing that the wedding was off.

People started asking why almost immediately.

Not wanting to stir up drama, I stuck to Harrison's script and said I just wasn't ready to get married yet.

But my friends flooded my inbox telling me I was out of my mind:

"Tilda, Harrison isn't some broke nobody anymore. Every woman in the city would throw herself at him. You call off the wedding now and you're basically gift-wrapping your man for someone else!"

I didn't reply.

Because Harrison was already someone else's husband.

Shortly after my post went up, Claudia sent me a photo of the marriage certificate.

Her tone dripped with triumph as she thanked me for stepping aside.

Tilda, thanks for the assist! Harrison and I were supposed to get the certificate tomorrow, but he pulled some strings and got it done today just to make me happy!

I didn't bother responding. Delete. Block. Done.

My phone buzzed. My mother was calling to chew me out.

"What is wrong with you? The fruit's hanging right there and you won't pick it? What kind of stunt are you pulling? By the time you decide you want to get married, he might not want you anymore!"

I let out a quiet laugh.

"What if he's the one who doesn't want to marry me?"

She went silent for a beat, then laid into me even harder.

"Then you obviously did something wrong! Swallow your pride, say something sweet, patch things up. Don't tell me you followed that man for all those years just to walk away with nothing!"

Eight years loving Harrison, and his refrain never changed: career first, family later.

But when success finally came, when he had the house and the car, it wasn't a home with me he wanted to build.

It wasn't that I hadn't tried. Trying just didn't matter.

For eight years, I'd been by his side through every struggle. The basement apartment. The instant noodles. I'd swallowed my pride and told him a thousand times that marrying him was all I'd ever dreamed of, rich or poor.

I'd even given up three pregnancies.

Because he said the timing wasn't right. He didn't want a child suffering alongside them.

I loved him, so whatever he said, no matter how much it hurt, I went along with it.

Just like tonight, when he told me he wanted to get legally married to his childhood sweetheart.

In that moment, even as my heart was being carved open, I felt something I hadn't expected.

Relief.