My Fiancée Chose My Best Friend, So I Married Her Rival

Later, I was the one who brought Roy into this circle with my own hands.

The first time he walked into that private club on the city's outskirts, his palms were sweating with nerves.

He stood behind me and murmured, "Ernest, everyone here seems so impressive."

"What if I embarrass you?"

I smiled and straightened his tie for him.

"What's there to be afraid of?"

"You're my brother."

"With me here, no one would dare push you around."

That suit was one I lent him.

That auction was one I brought him to.

One by one, I introduced him to every connection I knew.

Back then, Cecily had even warned me.

"Ernest, people in this circle are cold-hearted."

"Don't bring just anyone in."

I thought she was worried about me.

So I smiled and said,

"Roy isn't just anyone."

"He's my best friend."

She said nothing more.

But somewhere along the way,

her attitude toward Roy changed.

The first time was at the auction.

Roy didn't know the rules and raised his paddle by mistake.

An antique wristwatch. Three point eight million.

His face went white with fright, and for a long moment he couldn't get a word out.

I was about to go speak with the organizers on his behalf.

But Cecily had already spoken first.

"Put it on my account."

Roy stared at her, dazed.

She handed the paddle to an attendant, her tone offhand.

"It's only a few million."

"What's there to panic about?"

That day, I had my eye on a pair of emerald cufflinks too.

Not expensive, but beautiful.

Cecily glanced at them and said flatly,

"The Harding family is under a lot of scrutiny right now."

"It's not a good time for you to draw attention."

So I didn't bid.

Later that antique wristwatch ended up on Roy's wrist.

He posted online: "Made a fool of myself at my first auction. Good thing someone had my back."

In the photo, Cecily's watch had made it into the frame.

I stared at that picture for a long time.

But still I told myself.

Cecily was only helping him for my sake.

The second time was at a racing outing.

Cecily loved racing.

Before, the only one who had ever ridden in her passenger seat was me.

Then one time, Roy stood beside the car, his eyes bright, and said,

"I've never ridden shotgun in a supercar before."

Cecily glanced at him, then tossed the car keys to me.

"You take the car behind."

"I'll take him around a lap."

I froze where I stood.

But she had already pulled open the door for Roy.

Over the roar of the engine, Roy was laughing, happy as could be.

That night, he posted online.

"First time riding shotgun. My palms were sweating."

"Someone told me, don't be scared."

Don't be scared.

Those words had once belonged only to me.

The third time was before the engagement party.

I picked out a dark-green suit.

But Cecily only gave it one glance.

"Too flashy. It doesn't suit you."

I looked down at my cuffs, and in the end I changed into the black one she liked.

But half a month later, I saw that dark-green suit on Roy.

Smiling, he asked Cecily, "Does it look good?"

Cecily looked at him, and for a moment there was something dazzled in her eyes.

"It suits you."

Roy later took a photo and sent it to me, saying, as if in passing,

"Ernest, Cecily says this color really makes me look full of life."

"You don't mind, do you?"

I answered back then that I didn't.

But the ache in my chest lasted a long time.

Now that I think about it.

So this was how a person's place gets given away, bit by bit.

First a wristwatch.

Then the passenger seat.