The Billionaire's Discarded Bride Was Never His to Keep

When I woke the next day, it was nearly noon.

I had just finished washing up when someone started pounding on the door.

I opened it to find Harold standing there, his face black with fury, one arm wrapped around Faith. She looked deathly pale.

Neither of them had changed out of their wedding clothes, still pristine white.

The moment he saw me, whatever restraint had been holding his face together broke, and he roared.

"Tracey, how could you be this vicious? Do you have any idea? Faith almost died today."

He shoved his phone into my hands. I looked down.

That was how I learned what had happened, just as Harold and Faith were about to exchange rings.

A crowd of reporters had suddenly burst in, every one of them swinging cameras and mics straight at the couple.

Asking why the bride had been swapped. Asking whether Faith was the one who'd come between us, whether she was the reason he and I had fallen apart.

Harold and I had been together ten years. Everyone knew we were a couple.

Even the invitations that had gone out named me as the bride.

Everyone knew something was off, so when the reporters flooded in—

not one of our shared friends, none of those business partners, spoke up for them.

They just stood there in silence, waiting for Harold to explain.

My finger paused on the screen. I didn't answer him.

I swiped to the next video and kept watching.

On-screen, Harold's expression froze for a single instant.

But he recovered fast, pulling Faith close by the waist with an easy, intimate air.

"Ms. Butler and I have only ever been business partners. We played at being a couple for the company's image."

"But the truth is, the one I've loved all along is Faith. She's not a mistress. She never came between anyone. She's always been my girlfriend."

"If anything, it's Tracey who's spent all these years using our partnership to cling to me. She resents me for not loving her back, and that's what this whole farce is about."

He put all of it out there, the videos and chat logs he'd faked long in advance, twisting everything that had once been real between us into cold business dealings.

Turning our dates into obligations he'd had to sit through.

Claiming even the wedding invitation had been a deliberate trap I'd set.

It was like a bucket of cold water thrown over me, the chill sinking all the way through.

My nails dug into my palms.

I tossed the phone back to him and laughed, the sound mocking.

"You've already convicted me. So why bother coming to find me?"

Something awkward flickered across his face.

"I— I only did it because you forced me to."

"If you hadn't hidden away and skipped the wedding, if you hadn't called those reporters in to make a scene, why would I ever deny what we were?"

His words came faster now, his tone growing more self-righteous by the second.

"Tracey, what you did was cruel. Every single thing, all of it aimed at putting Faith in the ground."

"I know. You hate her for taking your place as the bride. But all she wanted was to live. You two have known each other for years. You shouldn't have gone this far."

When he finished, he looked at me, his eyes full of the disappointment of a man who thought I should have known better.

"Tracey, when you're in the wrong, you own it. Apologize to her."

Faith looked up at me too, tears brimming, her voice weak.

"Tracey, I always thought of you as my own sister. So why would you destroy me?"

"If Harold hadn't been prepared today, I almost— I almost got erased by the system."

"Just say you're sorry, and I'll forgive you."

Sorry?

What had I done that needed an apology?

I looked at the two of them, my voice cold and flat.

"I did nothing wrong. I didn't call the reporters. If that's all you came here to say, then please leave."

The words were barely out when Faith let out a shrill scream, her whole body convulsing as though she'd been shocked, and she crumpled to the floor.

Harold shot me a look through gritted teeth and hurried out with her.

Faith's piercing cry still rang in my ears. I stared at the numbers sliding down the virtual screen, and my eyes ached.

【Target's Current Affection Level: 50】

I gazed at it for a long, long time.

And the sad thing I realized was that, before much longer, I might finally be free.