His Betrayal Make Me Lost My Baby

The drive to Leon's training facility felt like a funeral procession, each mile bringing me closer to a confrontation I wasn't sure I was ready for. The thermos of homemade soup sat in the passenger seat, still warm, a pathetic peace offering that now seemed absurd. What was I hoping to accomplish? That a bowl of chicken noodle soup would somehow undo three years of lies?

The Apex Esports facility loomed ahead, all glass and steel, designed to look as cutting-edge as the players it housed. I'd funded the lease on this place, though Leon had never mentioned that detail to his teammates. Just another invisible contribution from his ATM girl.

I parked in the visitor's section, my hands gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles went white. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I could see the team's practice room—six gaming stations arranged in perfect formation, each surrounded by monitors that cost more than most people's cars. My money had bought those too.

Inside, the facility buzzed with focused energy. The receptionist barely glanced up as I signed in, clearly accustomed to fans and industry people coming and going. The practice room was just down the hall, and through the glass partition, I could see them in action.

Ryan sat at the center station, his posture relaxed but alert as he called out strategies to his team. Even from a distance, there was something commanding about him—not the flashy charisma that Leon wielded like a weapon, but a quiet authority that made others listen. His voice carried through the room, calm and measured.

"Marcus, watch your positioning. You're leaving yourself exposed to ganks." He paused the replay they were reviewing, pointing at the screen. "See how you could have warded here instead?"

The younger player nodded eagerly, leaning forward to study the footage. "Got it, Captain. I'll work on that."

"Good. Remember, it's not about individual plays. We win as a team or we don't win at all."

The contrast hit me immediately. When Leon gave feedback, it was usually sharp, often humiliating. I'd heard him tear into teammates over voice chat, calling them "trash" and "deadweight" when they made mistakes. But Ryan's approach was different—firm but constructive, pushing his players to improve without destroying their confidence.

Leon sat at the far end of the row, his fingers flying across his mechanical keyboard. Even in practice, he played with an aggressive flair that drew attention. Every successful play was accompanied by a small celebration—a fist pump, a cocky grin toward his teammates. He was performing even here, in this closed environment, as if cameras were always rolling.

"Nice carry, Leon!" called out Jake, one of the newer players.

Leon leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. "Just another day at the office. Some of us are naturals, you know?"

Ryan's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but he said nothing. I wondered how many times he'd bitten his tongue during moments like this, keeping the peace for the sake of team cohesion.

I was so absorbed in watching the dynamics that I almost missed the sound of heels clicking against the polished concrete floor. A familiar laugh echoed through the hallway—bright, practiced, designed to turn heads.

Chloe Vance rounded the corner like she owned the place, her blonde hair perfectly styled despite the LA heat, her outfit carefully chosen to look effortlessly chic. She carried herself with the confidence of someone who knew she belonged, who had never questioned her right to take up space.

And on her left hand, catching the overhead lights like a small star, was the ring. My ring. The one I'd paid for.

She spotted me immediately, her smile faltering for just a fraction of a second before snapping back into place. Her eyes swept over me, taking in my understated dress, my nervous posture, the thermos clutched in my hands like a shield.

"Well, hello there," she said, her voice sweet as poisoned honey. "I don't think we've met. I'm Chloe Vance—maybe you've seen my commentary work?"

I managed a weak smile. "Aria. I'm just—"

"Aria," she repeated, as if testing the name. Her gaze dropped to the thermos. "And you brought... food? How sweet. Are you here for one of the players?"

The question was loaded, her tone suggesting she already knew the answer and found it amusing. I felt heat rise in my cheeks.

"I'm Leon's—"

"Leon's what?" Chloe's eyebrows arched delicately. "Because I'm pretty sure Leon's girlfriend is standing right here." She held up her hand, letting the diamond catch the light. "Beautiful, isn't it? He has such exquisite taste."

The ring was even more stunning in person than I'd imagined from the email photos. The diamond was flawless, the setting elegant and timeless. Everything I would have chosen for myself, if anyone had bothered to ask.

"Actually," I said, finding my voice, "Leon and I are—"

Chloe's laugh cut through my words like glass. "Oh, honey. No." She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Let me guess. You think you have some special connection with him? Maybe you've been chatting online, sending him gifts, convincing yourself that he cares about you?"

My mouth went dry. "It's not like that."

"It's exactly like that." Chloe's smile turned predatory. "Trust me, I've seen it before. The obsessed fans who think they're different, who think they're special. But sweetie, Leon barely knows you exist."

She raised her voice then, calling toward the practice room. "Hey everyone! We have a visitor!"

The team looked up from their screens, and I felt six pairs of eyes land on me. Ryan's expression was curious, concerned. The younger players looked mildly interested. But it was Leon's reaction that made my blood turn to ice.

He glanced over casually, his gaze sliding past me as if I were furniture. "Who is she?"

"She says she knows you," Chloe said, her tone dripping with false sympathy. "Brought you soup and everything. Isn't that sweet?"

Leon's face remained perfectly blank. "Never seen her before in my life."

The words hit me like a physical blow. Three years of marriage, and he was looking at me like I was a stranger. Worse than a stranger—like I was nothing.

"She seems to think you two have some kind of relationship," Chloe continued, clearly enjoying herself. "I told her she must be confused, but you know how these obsessed fans can be."

Leon's expression shifted to one of mild concern, the same look he gave when discussing problematic viewers in his chat. "That's... concerning. Maybe we should call security?"

"Leon," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Please."

But he had already turned back to his screen, dismissing me completely. "Ryan, can you handle this? I need to focus on this next match."

Ryan stood slowly, his eyes moving between Leon, Chloe, and me. There was something in his expression—confusion, maybe suspicion. He started toward us, but Chloe was already moving.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of our little visitor," she said, her hand landing on my shoulder with deceptive gentleness. "Come on, sweetie. Let's get you some help."