He Spoiled His First Love and Forgot His Wife

“Leave the items in the guard room. Someone will bring them to the owner. Now get out of here!”

I looked down at the delivery outfit I was wearing—clothes I’d bought just to play house with my son.

No wonder I was mistaken for a delivery person.

I was just about to explain when someone beside me recognized me first.

“Arielle? Julian, isn’t this your ex-wife?”

“I haven’t heard anything about her in years. Turns out she ended up delivering food after leaving Julian? That’s hilarious. This kind of job suits a loser from a low-class background like her.”

Manager Holloway overheard the comment about me being Julian’s ex-wife. Although he couldn't understand how someone like me had once been with him, he still asked obsequiously,

“President Cross, should we… let her in?”

Julian had been staring at me the whole time, his expression unreadable.

Before he could speak, Vanessa stepped forward and warned sharply,

“Aze, the entire concept behind Imperial Crest Manor is to provide an elite living environment—more private and peaceful than ordinary communities. That’s why it attracts the top-tier crowd in New York.”

“Everyone who lives here is either wealthy or influential. If you let someone like a delivery worker in, what if something goes missing from a home and the owner files a complaint? Especially now that the international boss is here—if he finds out you're being so unprofessional, it could ruin the deal.”

I almost laughed. Was Vanessa implying I was a thief?

Julian gave me a cold glance and said indifferently,

“She’s just my ex-wife. She’s not worth bending the rules for.”

Hearing that, Manager Holloway stepped forward and shoved me.

“You hear that? Do you even know how much a single floor tile here costs? And you have the nerve to ride that broken scooter into this place? Get out!”

I hate people who look down on others. I slapped his hand away and said coldly,

“First of all, I don’t consider food delivery a lowly job. Every honest worker earns their living with dignity—there’s no such thing as a low profession.”

“Second, I’m not here to deliver food. I’m looking for someone, and it’s urgent.”

“And finally—let me in. If I break a tile, I’ll pay double the cost in compensation!”

Manager Holloway sneered.

“You? Compensate? These floor tiles are imported, airlifted from abroad. Each costs hundreds of thousands. And that's not even including labor and fuel charges. How much do you make—100 dollars a day? You couldn’t afford it even if you worked your whole life.”

“A poor woman like you claims to know someone here? Stop lying. Leave now, or I won’t be polite.”

He shoved me hard. I lost my balance and fell to the ground along with my scooter.

“Enough!”

Julian scowled at Manager Holloway. “Why are you making a scene in the middle of the night? Don’t you care about disturbing the residents?”

He walked over instinctively and helped me up, frowning.

“Do you really need to pretend to be rich just to earn a few bucks running errands? Fine. I’ll place another order for you—pick something, and I’ll have it sent to your house. I’ll pay you 10,000 for the delivery. Happy now?”

“Arielle, I know you’re hanging around here because you still want to see me. But Vanessa is my wife now. Even if you go blind, I won’t marry you again.”

Vanessa laughed mockingly.

“Oh, by the way, I just remembered—we’re out of condoms at home. Miss Sinclair, could you grab us a few boxes? There’s no helping it, Aze just goes through them too quickly.”

Julian didn’t say a word. His silence was tacit approval.

I yanked my hand away, pulled out a tissue from my pocket, and wiped it furiously. Then I smiled.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not that desperate. And I don’t hand out condoms to my ex-husband and his mistress. That’s just filthy.”

As I spoke, Julian’s face darkened. He grabbed the shopping bag from my hand and dumped everything onto the ground in a rage.