My Fiancé Spent My Money on His Mistress

The hospital corridor smelled like disinfectant and bad coffee. I could hear Raiden's voice before I saw him.

"I need to see her. You don't understand—"

I was walking back from the bathroom, one hand on my IV pole, moving slow because everything still hurt. A nurse I didn't recognize stood between Raiden and my room. Her arms were crossed.

"Sir, visiting hours are over. You need to leave."

"I'm her fiancé." His voice cracked on the word. "I have a right—"

"You have no rights here."

That was my mother. She'd appeared in my doorway. Her voice was quiet. Cold. The way ice is cold.

Raiden turned toward her. His eyes were red. His perfect hair was messed up. He looked like he hadn't slept.

Good.

"Mrs. Kennedy, please." He took a step forward. "I just need five minutes. I can explain everything. It's not what she thinks—"

"It's exactly what she thinks." My mother didn't move. "And you're leaving. Now."

"I love her!" His voice got louder. People in the corridor turned to look. "I made mistakes, but I love her. Ten years. That has to mean something—"

"It means you're a very patient liar."

My father's voice. He'd come from the other direction. Franklin Kennedy in a dark suit, standing beside me now. His hand settled on my shoulder. Gentle. Protective.

Raiden looked at me. His face did something complicated. Pain and panic and calculation all mixed together.

"Selena. Please. Just talk to me."

I didn't say anything.

He moved toward me. The nurse stepped in his way. He pushed past her.

"Don't touch my daughter."

My father's voice didn't get louder. It got quieter. Somehow that was worse.

Raiden stopped. His hands were shaking. "You don't understand. Alyssa—she didn't mean anything. It was a mistake. A stupid, terrible mistake, but I can fix this. I'll do anything. I'll—"

"You'll leave." My mother again. Still in the doorway. Still not moving. "You'll walk out of this hospital. You'll return everything Selena gave you. And you'll never contact her again."

"No." Raiden's voice broke. "No, I won't. I won't give up. She's my—"

He reached for my arm.

My father moved between us. Fast. Solid.

"Security," the nurse said into her phone. "Fourth floor. Now."

Raiden's face changed. The wounded lover expression cracked. Something uglier showed through.

"This is insane," he said. His voice got sharp. "I'm not some criminal. I'm her fiancé. We've been together for ten years and you're treating me like—"

"Like a man who exploited our daughter for a decade?" My mother's voice was still quiet. Still cold. "Yes. We are."

Two security guards appeared at the end of the corridor. Large men in dark uniforms.

Raiden saw them. His face went white. Then red.

"Fine." He backed up a step. His hands were fists now. "Fine. But this isn't over, Selena. You'll realize—you'll see that I—"

The guards were beside him now. One on each side.

"Sir, you need to come with us."

Raiden jerked away from them. "Don't touch me. I'm leaving. I'm—"

He grabbed the nurse's arm. Not hard. But enough.

"Tell her," he said. His voice was desperate now. Wild. "Tell her I waited in the parking lot for three hours. Tell her I love her. Tell her—"

The guards took his arms. Professional. Firm.

"Sir, we can do this easy or hard."

People were staring now. A dozen people in the corridor. Patients. Visitors. Staff. All watching Raiden Dixon fall apart in public.

He looked at me one more time. His perfect face twisted with something I'd never seen before. Rage. Real rage.

"You'll regret this," he said.

Then the guards walked him toward the elevator. He didn't fight. But his voice carried back down the corridor.

"I gave you ten years. Ten years. You can't just—"

The elevator doors closed.

The corridor got quiet again.

My mother came to my other side. Her hand found mine.

"Let's get you back to bed," she said softly.

I nodded. My legs were shaking.

My father kept his hand on my shoulder as we walked back to my room. My mother held my hand. Neither of them said anything else.

They didn't need to.

---

The next morning, my father made three phone calls from the hospital corridor while my mother sat with me.

I couldn't hear what he said. But I saw his face through the window. Calm. Focused. The face he wore in boardrooms.

When he came back in, he kissed my forehead.

"It's handled," he said.

I didn't ask what that meant.

I already knew.

---

They let me go home two days later. Not to my apartment. To the estate.

My childhood bedroom looked exactly the same. White curtains. Blue walls. The window seat where I used to read.

I sat on the bed and stared at nothing.

My mother brought tea. Set it on the nightstand. Sat beside me.

"He came to the gate this morning," she said quietly.

I looked at her.

"Your father watched from the window upstairs. Raiden was on his knees on the driveway. Crying. Begging the security guard to let him in."

I waited.

"The guard told him to leave. He refused. He stayed there for forty minutes. Then he left."

My mother's hand covered mine.

"He came back this afternoon. Same thing. And again this evening."

I closed my eyes.

"Your father doubled the gate staff," she continued. "And called our lawyer. If Raiden comes back tomorrow, we're filing for a restraining order."

I opened my eyes. Looked at her.

"Thank you," I whispered.

She pulled me into her arms. I put my head on her shoulder.

I didn't cry. I'd already cried. In this same room. In these same arms. The night I came home from the hospital.

I'd cried once. Completely. Until there was nothing left.

Now I just sat there. Safe. Held.

Outside, the sun was setting. The estate was quiet.

And somewhere beyond the gates, Raiden Dixon was losing everything.

Just like I had.