The Fiance Trade-off

Our wedding was set for the tenth of the following month.

Julian and I were both swamped with work, so we agreed that he’d just swing by and pick me up on the day of our wedding.

As I scrolled through the checklist that the wedding planner sent over, the whole thing felt surreal. Not long ago, I thought I was done with marriage altogether after Ryan bailed on me.

Now I was actually getting married.

My mom was worried I was rushing it out of heartbreak. She tried her best to talk me down.

I shut the book I’d been reading. For some reason, a memory flashed across my mind—Julian swaggering outside my office, smiling with those dimples.

"Don’t worry, Mom. Julian’s a good guy. And besides, marriage is the same with anyone, right? You and Dad taught me to look past emotion and focus on the benefits."

She was speechless for a second, then sighed and hung up.

I tilted my head up, staring at the stars, wondering when I’d become like this—someone whose whole world revolved around "value" and "meaning". Cold, calculating, and rational to the point of being fake, like a machine set to perfect precision.

The next few days were a blur of deadlines. I was buried in files when my assistant knocked gently.

"Ms. Sullivan, there’s someone here for you. He says he’s delivering a—"

He didn’t even get to finish.

A booming voice cut through the office, "Claire! I brought you an invitation!"

Of course. It was Ryan again. He marched in and tossed a gilded envelope on my desk like it was a mic drop.

"My wedding with Amber is coming. Hope to see you there. You’re running out of time, you know. After the wedding, my heart belongs to her. Don’t come crawling back. By then, it’ll be too late."

The man who ditched me, who wanted to have it both ways, now expected me to beg for his forgiveness?

I smiled, opened the invite, and raised a brow at the date: May 10.

Then, I casually tossed it into the trash.

"Well, thanks for thinking of me, but that kind of love story’s wasted on me. Better save it for Miss Sweeney."

He stared at the trash can, his face going red in seconds. "You ungrateful—this was your last chance! You—"

I didn’t have time for his drama. Between clients and coordinating guest lists with Julian, my day was already packed.

I rubbed my temples. "Ryan, I’ve told you, there’s nothing left between us. If you can act like a normal human being, our families can still do business. But if you keep coming at me with this delusional crap, we’re done. Professionally and personally."

Ryan had been spoiled all his life. He didn’t care about business. He thought my family was still the same tacky, rich upstart from years ago. He never bothered to see how much had changed.

His face twitched as I typed an internal company memo. "You want to burn that bridge? Fine. We don’t need your charity. You think I care if the Sullivans cut ties? Go ahead. I dare you to cut off every single funding line we have!"

I looked up, met his smug glare, and nodded. "Sure. As you wish."