His Final Excuse, My New Fiancé

My fiancé, Ethan, had just postponed our wedding for the fifth time—all for a woman named Chloe.

He grabbed my hand, his voice a frantic whisper. "Ava, it's Chloe… her depression is back. She can't be put under any stress right now. We'll do it next time, I promise."

The same excuse. Again.

I gazed at his anxious face, my heart a silent, desolate wasteland.

For ten years, I’d played the fool in a one-woman show, pretending he was devoted to me.

I’d had enough.

I snatched my hand away and, under his stunned gaze, strode toward the corner.

Seated there was the man who held the real power in New York, Julian Thorne.

"My fiancé... I don't want him anymore." I raised my champagne flute, my smile bright and wild. "So, Mr. Thorne… interested in an upgrade?"

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1

The moment the words left my lips, the entire party fell deathly silent.

Ethan’s expression soured.

"Ava! Have you lost your mind?!"

He strode toward me, his face twisting with rage as he reached for my wrist.

I took a deliberate step back, neatly avoiding his touch.

"I'm perfectly sober, Ethan." I looked at him, my eyes stripped of the adoration they once held.

Ten years.

I had loved him for ten whole years.

From a bright-eyed freshman in Columbia's architecture department to now, the best ten years of my life had been squandered on the absurd fantasy of "Ethan Hawthorne."

Now, the dream was over.

"Have you no shame, Ava?"

"Just because Ethan dumped you, you're so desperate you'll throw yourself at any man you see?"

Chloe, nestled in his arms, finally piped up, her voice laced with accusation.

Today, she wore a custom rose gold bracelet. I'd sketched that design for myself years ago.

I had planned to give it to myself as a gift for opening my own studio.

Now, it was on Chloe's wrist.

I didn't waste my breath on her. I knew Ethan would just pull his usual "she's fragile" routine to guilt-trip me.

My gaze remained locked on the corner.

On that man, Julian Thorne.

The true master of Manhattan, a legendary figure who could alter the city's skyline, rumored to be cold, ascetic, and uninterested in women.

The kind of man even Ethan revered.

He rose and made his way toward me, his pace unhurried.