My Fiancé Dated His Secretary, I Found a New Groom

Declan’s POV

“Useless! Every last one of you! Out of my way!” I snapped, shoving past the idiots clogging the hallway. “I’ll find her myself!”

Thirty damn minutes later, after tearing through what felt like a hundred rooms in that goddamn restaurant, I finally found Prissie.

I yanked open the freezer door. She was inside—curled up and shaking, her skin blotched purple and blue from the cold.

Just then, one of my men burst in right then, panting like he’d just brought me gold.

“Sir! We found Ma’am Reigne! She rear-ended an Audi at the intersection—”

I didn’t need the rest.

I already spun around and dashed out without looking back.

Prissie’s POV

In a hospital room, I slowly opened my eyes and saw Declan standing beside the hospital bed, adjusting the IV drip.

When he noticed I was awake, he looked uncertain and asked carefully, “Are you having trouble breathing? The doctor said side effects are normal after a rib extraction.”

I stared at him in confusion. “Why would I have a rib removed?”

There was a beat of silence. Then, he spoke cautiously, as if choosing every word, “Reigne injured her nose in a car accident. She’s been crying nonstop, saying she’s disfigured…”

He hesitated for a moment before adding, “I had no choice but to use your rib to reconstruct her nasal bridge.”

I shut my eyes, a deep breath held back in my throat. Then, I said clearly, word by word, “Declan. We’re done. From this moment on, I never want to see you again.”

He let out a tired sigh, rubbing his brow as if trying to suppress a headache.

“Prissie, you’re thirty years old,” he shot back. “Can you stop throwing these childish tantrums already?”

He sighed again, softening his voice.

“Didn’t you always say you wanted a honeymoon with me? Fine. I promise, when things at work settle down, I’ll make time to take you. Happy now?”

Just as he finished, his phone vibrated.

It was a voice message from Reigne, her voice too sweet.

“Dex! My passport’s finally ready! You really meant it when you said you’d take me to Barcelona? I heard that’s where Prissie’s parents met and fell in love, isn’t it romantic?”

Declan replied without hesitation. “Of course. Pack your things—we’re leaving tonight.”

He walked out eagerly while replying to the voice message, tossing a final statement over his shoulder as if it were an unchangeable decree.

“I’ve got an urgent business trip, Prissie. The wedding next week will have to be postponed. We’ll discuss the new date once I’m back.”

He left me with no chance to argue with him or even attempt to stop him.

As his figure disappeared down the hallway, I silently loosened the grip of my bleeding fingers, the half-moon crescents my nails had left in my palm beginning to sting.

Late at night in the Bradley International Airport, standing alone in the waiting area, I received a message from him.

[There’s a cold front coming in the next couple of days. I bought you the latest scarf collection. My driver will drop it off at your place tomorrow.]

I thought of the photo Reigne had posted half an hour ago, flaunting her new designer wardrobe.

The only thing it was missing… was a scarf.

I stared at the screen for a moment, then locked my phone without replying.

Just then, a pair of familiar arms wrapped gently around me from behind.

“Prissie! I’m back!”

I turned, ready to say something. But my eyes caught a familiar scene across the terminal.

Declan and Reigne were walking hand in hand, fingers interlocked. They were heading toward the VIP lounge.

I shifted my gaze and didn’t look again. Instead, I welcomed the kiss my new fiancé pressed to my forehead, let him take my hand, and quietly walked out of the airport with him.

‘Declan,’ I wished mentally, ‘I wish you a safe journey, and may your love story find its perfect ending. As for me? May my wedding be filled with joy, and my marriage last a lifetime.’

Declan’s POV

In Barcelona, stretched out in a presidential suite, Reigne turned to me and asked, “Dex, are you still feeling dizzy? Maybe we should go to the hospital?”

The worry in her voice was real—sweet, even.

I caught her hand, gave her palm a light squeeze, and offered a smile that told her exactly what she needed to hear.

“I’m fine. I just haven’t had enough rest lately. But don’t worry—wherever you want to go these next few days, I’m right there with you.”

Her eyes lit up with joy, though she pouted slightly.

“Then I’m going to sing you a lullaby so you can sleep fast and get some rest.”

A lullaby.

That word triggered something.

Some old tune started to stir in the back of my head—something from my childhood.

What was it again?

I couldn’t remember anymore.