He Lied to Me, I Left Him and Married Another Rich Man

I let out a cold laugh and stood up. “Damon, don’t forget, this is the house I bought. You didn’t contribute a single cent. Even if you're just staying here temporarily, it’s still my home. You need my permission.”

He raised an eyebrow, unbothered. “And haven’t I just asked for it?”

But when he saw my luggage stacked neatly by the door, clearly signaling I had no intention of surrendering my room, his face twisted in frustration.

“A shabby little apartment and you treat it like it’s some priceless treasure,” he muttered. “If I weren’t testing you, do you think I’d leave my villa just to live in this dump?”

I shot him a cold glare. He had finally dropped the act. The truth had come out in Tiffany’s voice message, deliberately sent to provoke me:

“Elena doesn’t know I’m a rich kid. Pretending to be poor is just a test to see if she’s after my money.”

“I’m not done playing yet. I don’t want to be tied down with a kid. Elena can stay as the backup plan.”

Only then did I realize, Damon had been pretending to be poor all these years. Even his supposed infertility was just a convenient excuse. He was afraid I’d get pregnant and trap him. The weight of it all suddenly hit me like a wave.

“Damon Blackwood!” I said, voice firm and steady. “Let’s get a divorce.”

He froze, visibly stunned. “Elena, what nonsense are you spouting now?”

Then came the mockery. “Is this some kind of early menopause? Is that why you act so crazy every day? I’ve already told you, Tiffany and I are just childhood friends. There’s nothing between us. Can you please stop overthinking everything?”

He smirked. His words dripped with sarcasm. “And don’t forget, you were the one who begged to marry me. And now you want to walk away? Just like that? Can you really let go?”

His tone was cold, his eyes filled with disdain. And yes, it was true. I had once pursued Damon.

I still remembered that day a thief had snatched my bag and he had appeared like a hero, chasing him down. He told me he was poor, but I didn’t care.

I gave up everything to be with him. To preserve his pride, I downplayed my own background.

I gave up my villa, moved into a modest city apartment and told him I bought it with years of savings.

He believed me. I thought it brought us closer. But then, one night at a bar, I overheard him in a private room with his friends.

“Elena used up half her savings just to buy a house and marry me,” he said, laughing. “Didn’t even ask for a dowry. Women like that are rare these days.”

One friend asked, “She seems to really love you. How long are you planning to string her along?”

Another chimed in, “A test is fine, but if you push too far, you might destroy something genuine.”

Damon just shrugged. “I’ll play around for another couple of years, then maybe stop.”

“I told her I have azoospermia and need treatment, so I can’t have kids yet. Truth is, I just don’t want to be tied down.”

Hearing those words made my whole body tremble with rage. This was the man who had vowed at our wedding to love me for life. Who had promised to build a home and have children with me.

Every word and every promise had been a lie. I came down from the study, holding the divorce agreement.

“Sign it,” I said coldly. Damon didn’t even look at it. Instead, he used the papers to support Tiffany, helping her to her feet.

“Tiffany, the floor’s cold. Don’t walk around barefoot.”

Tiffany had just finished whining about her stomachache and Damon had spent the entire day lounging in the living room with her, watching TV, massaging her belly, keeping her warm.

As if I were nothing but an intruder in my own home.