Faking Her Death to Ski with Him

Everyone in our social circle knew that my fiancée, Hazel Mullins, had a skin hunger condition toward me.

Only touching me brought her excitement and satisfaction. But the self-proclaimed heartthrob and heir to the Newman family refused to believe it.

He boldly declared that he would win her over within a month.

After bombarding her with seductive photos for an entire month, Hazel finally reached her breaking point and auctioned them off.

With his reputation ruined, Rory Newman was disowned by his family. In a fit of rage, he jumped off a bridge in an apparent suicide attempt.

Hazel lost her mind and leaped after him. I became the biggest laughingstock in the circle.

That was until I went skiing in the Alps and accidentally bumped into Hazel helping Rory select ski gear.

She explained with a composed expression, "Rory's dealing with some serious emotional trauma. The doctor suggested more outdoor activities. Just please, don't throw another tantrum."

I felt bewildered. I wasn't even involved with them anymore. Why would I get upset?

Then it hit me that she was unaware of one fact. I had already married someone else on the same day she jumped into the water after Rory in that dramatic display of devotion.

I was simply there for my honeymoon, with a bit of skiing on the side.

I glanced at Hazel Mullins indifferently. "Miss Mullins, you're mistaken."

Before I could finish, her gaze suddenly fixed on my wrist. "What's with that bracelet?"

She furrowed her brows and reached out to grab my wrist for a closer inspection. I sidestepped her grasp and lifted my hand, dangling the platinum bracelet engraved with "C&S" initials in front of her.

"You mean this?" I asked, a distant smile tugging at my lips. "It's obviously a couple's set for me and my wife."

Her voice carried a note of tension. "Your wife?"

She stepped closer, the surrounding chatter making her instinctively frown, but she pressed on. "But I'm your fiancée. The one you've always loved is me. How could you be wearing a couple's bracelet with someone else?"

Her eyes locked onto my face, but her panic vanished in the next moment. She smirked, "I get it. You're still mad at me, so you're deliberately using something like this to provoke me, right?"

She stated confidently, "You showed up here because you knew I was accompanying Rory on this ski trip, and you staged this encounter."

She was delusional, but I patiently clarified, "I'm here on vacation with my wife."

"Vacation?" she sneered, the sarcasm in her eyes growing deeper. "Since when did you resort to such clumsy tactics for attention? I know it was wrong to leave the country without telling you, but you don't need to provoke me like this. I've seen right through it. This won't work on me."

Rory Newman tugged at her sleeve with a hint of unease, eyeing me curiously.

"Hazel, is this gentleman a friend of yours?" he asked, his voice youthful and gentle, completely different from the arrogant heir he had been before. "He seems upset. Did I interrupt something?"

"No," Hazel replied, turning to him as her tone softened considerably. "He's just having a fit. Don't mind him. Let's get you the best ski suit."

Watching her act like this made me feel a wave of physical revulsion.

My phone rang, snapping me out of it. I checked the caller ID; it was the resort manager, Hans Copeland.

I stepped aside to answer, and the voice on the other end was frantic. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Barton, but there's been an unexpected issue. The A-grade slope at the mountaintop that you and Mrs. Barton reserved has just been bought out for the next week at triple the price. Your skiing plans might need to be postponed."

My heart sank, and I frowned slightly. "Can you tell me who bought it? I'd like to see if negotiation is possible."

There was a brief silence on the line before a hesitant response. "The buyer is Miss Hazel Mullins from the Mullins Group. She said it's to provide a quiet, undisturbed skiing environment for her fiancé, Mr. Rory Newman, who's suffered emotional trauma."

The whole thing became crystal clear to me. Just moments ago, they were browsing gear right in front of me.

I suddenly felt the world was ridiculously small. These two were like sticky plasters, impossible to shake off.