After I Stopped Being His Perfect Wife, My Ex-Fiancé Lost His Mind

“Laura, is everything going well at the Vance house?”

I couldn't speak. I just nodded, hard.

“That's good……”

On the other end of the line, he drew several labored breaths.

“That boy Vincent has done so much for our family, and he's clearly crazy about you. You have to be good to him, do what he says.”

“The Vances are old money. They'll have plenty of rules. Keep them in mind and don't offend anyone.“

The evening breeze swept over me, raising a sharp chill across my skin.

I fought to keep the tremor out of my voice.

“I know, Dad.“

The call ended. I shoved my phone back into my pocket.

As I did, the check I'd been clutching slipped out, crumpled beyond recognition.

I bent down to pick it up, and my mind drifted back to the conversation that morning.

Marlene Vance sat in the living room, adjusting the shawl draped over her shoulders. When she noticed me, a flicker of mockery passed through her eyes.

She lifted her chin toward the seat across from her.

I pressed my lips together and walked over, stiff and cautious, before sitting down.

There was no small talk. She cut straight to the point.

“I hear Vincent put together some sort of 'Perfect Wife' selection?“

She didn't wait for my answer before continuing.

“That little stunt holds no weight with this family.“

My half-formed nod froze in place.

That wasn't what Vincent had told me. He said the selection was a tradition passed down through generations of Vances, that it was my only chance to marry him.

He had taken both my hands and pressed them against his chest, his eyes brimming with light.

“Laura, trust me. I'll make sure you win. You're the only woman I'll ever marry.”

Marlene took a measured sip of her tea, her elegant brows drawn tight.

“He wasn't happy with the match the family arranged, so he cooked up this little scheme as a form of protest.“

“But a game that tacky doesn't belong in public. It's the kind of thing you play behind closed doors.“

Her gaze settled on me, heavy with authority, as she slid a blank check across the table.

“Write whatever number you want. As long as you walk away from Vincent.“

My hands tightened on my knees, then loosened, then tightened again. I shook my head, over and over.

Marlene watched me and let out a quiet laugh, its meaning impossible to read.

I looked up at her, lost.

“Do you know what the consolation prize was for the girls who got eliminated?“

She held my gaze, and the smile on her face turned cruel.

“A night in bed with Vincent.“

The words fell from her lips so casually, but they hit me like a sledgehammer to the skull.

I shot to my feet, convinced this was just another tactic the Vances were using to force me out.

“That's impossible! I don't believe you!”

“Then tell me, how well do you really know Vincent Vance?”

My mouth opened, but no rebuttal came out.

I had known Vincent for a year.

The day we first met, the rain was coming down hard.

He ducked into the convenience store where I worked part-time to get out of the downpour. When his eyes met mine, something in them lit up.

After that, Vincent became a regular.

He asked for my number, memorized my shift schedule, showed up just to help me haul boxes of inventory.

He planned surprises for my birthday and walked me home every time it rained.

Somewhere along the way, without either of us noticing, feelings took root.

Just when I thought everything was slowly falling into place, the hospital called.

My father had collapsed. He was in the operating room.

I rushed to the hospital in a daze. The doctor only shook his head.

“The patient's heart is in critical condition. You need to prepare yourself.”

Recovery meant finding a matching donor heart, and the cost of the treatment that would follow was an astronomical sum, more than enough to crush me.

Just as I was on the verge of breaking down, Vincent wrapped a steady arm around my shoulders.