My Fiancée’s Assistant Stole My Seat—So I Dumped Her

As the murmurs around us grew louder, the assistant’s smug expression deepened.

“You little brat, did you just dare insult me? Looks like you’ve got a death wish!”

His threats didn’t faze me at all. In fact, I almost laughed.

“So you're the chairman’s assistant? Then let me give you a piece of advice—watch your mouth.”

“If you really push me, not even your boss will be able to clean up the mess.”

“What the hell did you just say to me?!”

After cursing me out a few more times, he still seemed unsatisfied. He rolled up his sleeves and lunged at me again.

“Oh? So this is how a personal assistant to the chairman of Meyer Group behaves? Can’t get your way, so now you want to fight?”

He threw several wild slaps in my direction, but not one landed. Frustration twisted his face.

“You damn punk! Just try dodging one more time! I dare you!” he seethed.

“You want me to call President Dixton right now?!”

Despite his constant provocations, I didn’t retaliate. I stayed calm, kept my hands down.

Not because I was scared—but because before I left my post, my superior had warned me repeatedly.

“Everything you say or do outside represents the image of the organization. Avoid all conflicts.”

Besides, I wasn’t the kind to get into fights. But if I did strike, it’s lethal.

Wesley, the assistant, took my silence for cowardice and swung another punch at me.

Just then, a sharp voice rang out from behind.

“Stop right there!”

“Wesley, you’re my assistant. How dare you act like this in public?”

The crowd parted as a stunning young woman in a fiery red dress, flanked by bodyguards, walked briskly toward us.

“You must be Aubrey,” I said, studying her closely.

I had to admit—my mom had a good taste. The woman’s figure was flawless, and she had an imposing aura. But if I had to nitpick, it’d be that her eyes were as cold as ice.

“Miss Dixton, nice to meet you. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Camden—”

“No need.”

Before I could finish, Aubrey raised a hand, cutting me off impatiently.

“We’ve met. I can already tell—we’re not compatible. Get off the plane.”

For a moment, I thought I’d misheard her.

It took multiple layers of approval just to secure a half-day off from my organization. And now, right after arriving—before I’ve even finished introducing myself—they’re already sending me away?

Was this a joke?

My temper flared instantly.

“You must be the blind date my mother arranged—Miss Aubrey, correct?”

“You won’t even let me speak, and now you’re telling me to go back? Don’t you think that’s a bit rude?”

She sneered. “Rude?”

“Why don’t you go look in the mirror and ask yourself—do you really think you’re good enough for me?”

She gave me a once-over, her eyes filled with disdain.

“I don’t know what my father was thinking, arranging a marriage with someone as useless as you.”

Her words detonated like a bomb in the cabin.

“What? He’s Aubrey’s fiancé? That’s insane!”

“This guy looks like a total nobody. Does he really think he can marry a goddess like Aubrey? Keep dreaming!”

“President Dixton is the dream woman of every man in California! I, Logan Smith, will personally protest this engagement!”

As the voices around me grew louder and more chaotic, I stood there, completely dumbfounded.