My Ex-Fiancé Married A Nobody, Now He’s Losing It

Colin looked furious. “And what if I don’t agree? What if I don’t let you leave?”

“Well, then I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed, Fitzwilliam,” came a voice from behind me. “Because Lucy and I are already engaged. Are you trying to steal another man’s fiancée now?”

I turned around and saw Hunter Grosvenor walking in.

Hunter, my childhood friend from Lakeside City, arrived looking sharp, though still showing signs of travel. It was clear he had come directly here.

He walked up to me, positioning himself just slightly in front of me, subtly yet unmistakably providing me with some protection.

Colin’s eyes narrowed. “Hunter, you’re supposed to be in Lakeside City. What are you doing here?”

With confidence, Hunter smiled. “I’m closing a deal for Mr. Morgan and here to escort Lucy back home.”

Then he looked down at me, his eyes warm and full of nothing but me. “Lucy, parties like this bore me. I heard there’s a fireworks show tonight on the pier. Want me to take you?”

I smiled and rose to my feet, turning toward Colin and Denise. “I’ll take my leave now. I may not be around when your wedding day comes, so let me offer my congratulations in advance. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness.”

With that, I followed Hunter out of the Smythe estate.

Behind us, Colin stormed out after us. “Lucy! Are you seriously telling me that being with me isn’t worth more than being Hunter’s fiancée?”

Still yelling, he declared, “When I take over Fitzwilliam Enterprises, I’ll make sure you have the family you want—our child, even!”

Hunter opened the door to the sleek black sports car waiting out front and gently helped me inside.

I sat down with a smile, closed the door behind me, and watched through the tinted glass as Harbor City and Colin Fitzwilliam faded away in the rearview mirror.

...

Colin’s wedding was the event of the season.

On the morning of the ceremony, my bags were packed and my car was ready to head out.

But fate had other plans.

We’d deliberately chosen a quieter street to avoid running into his wedding procession, yet somehow, by some twist of irony or design, Colin’s convoy had picked the same route.

He stood in front of our car, dressed in his groom’s suit, blocking our way.

“Lucy, are you really leaving?”