My Boyfriend Left Me for a 60 Year Old Sugar Mama

“So what if I am?” Daniel sneered. “Isn’t it the truth?”

“Sure, Mrs. Foster may be a bit older, but at least he has money. Unlike you—after all these years together, you still can’t even afford a house!”

I stared at him, my heart growing colder with every word. Ten years. Ten whole years and this was what it came to? That the final nail in the coffin of our relationship was my supposed inability to buy a house? If my parents ever found out about this, they’d probably laugh hard enough to lose a few teeth. I had planned to bring him home to meet my family, maybe even casually surprise him with a villa—one I intended to put in his name. That was the kind of future I had imagined. But who would've thought the man I once loved would reject me—because he thought I was poor?

Daniel must’ve mistaken my silence for submission. Emboldened, he went on with even more arrogance.

“What’s the matter, Linda? Cat got your tongue?”

“Still in shock? Don’t tell me you actually came here hoping to toast to my marriage?”

Then he threw his head back and laughed. “But hey, if you must come in, be my guest. At least you’ll finally get to see what you lost.”

Despite his endless stream of insults, I simply smiled—a calm, unfazed smile that only seemed to irritate him more.

“There’s no need for that,” I said quietly. “I’m afraid you’re the one who’ll regret this.”

With that, I turned to leave. But I barely took a step before a furious voice barked from behind me.

“You little bitch—who the hell do you think is going to regret it?!”

The voice belonged to none other than Maggie Foster—the bride herself. Chairwoman of Foster Group.

In business circles from Atlanta to Miami, Maggie was infamous. A notorious philanderer, she'd changed spouses more times than one could count—rumor had it he'd been married over a dozen times. And yet, not once had any of those ex-partners spoken out or accused her of wrongdoing. For that alone, I almost respected her. At least she was straightforward. She got what she wanted—youth and handsome. They got what they wanted—money. When it was over, both sides walked away clean. No fuss, no drama.

Now, Maggie sauntered up to me, swirling a glass of red wine as she looked me over with thinly veiled mockery.

“I heard… you’re my husband’s ex-girlfriend?” she said, lifting a brow with an amused smirk.

Then she suddenly grinned, a wicked edge glinting in her eyes.

“Tell me something, girl. Are you that useless in bed? You were with him for ten years and he’s still acting like a damn virgin.”

As if to prove her point, she reached around and gave Daniel a loud, heavy slap on the ass—right there in front of everyone.

“But I’ll give him this,” she continued with a laugh. “Your little boyfriend’s quite the slut. With the way he moans, I’m guessing you’ve never known what a real man feels like.”

I felt bile rise in my throat. And Daniel? He didn’t even flinch. In fact, he leaned into her like a spoiled pet, burying his face against her chest.

“Honey… you’re so bad,” he purred, his tone sickeningly sweet.

I forced down the nausea, fixing my gaze on him. “Daniel. Tell me the truth—did you really sleep with her?”

The crowd, drawn by the spectacle, gathered around eagerly, hungry for more drama. Daniel, unfazed, replied without a hint of shame.

“So what if I did? You made it easy for me.”

And just like that, the last flicker of affection I had for him—burned out completely.

“Well then,” I said, voice steady, “since you’re so desperate to become someone’s obedient little lapdog, I suppose all that’s left is to offer you my blessings.”

“You better make sure to grab as much money as you can while your wife’s still breathing. Because when she dies, that gold stream of yours is going to dry up fast.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, Maggie’s face twisted with rage.

“You little bitch! Who the hell are you calling dead?! I’ll have you know I’m going to outlive all of you!”

I let out a light laugh, unbothered. “Chairwoman Foster, don’t take it personally. But with how fast you go through husbands, I’d be surprised if you don’t die in bed within five years.”