After Pretending to Be Poor for Five Years, I Walked Away from My Arrogant Fiancé

Inside the Parisian haute couture bridal salon, the custom gown I'd waited six months for was on someone else's body.

Millicent Abbott. A-list actress. Wearing my dress.

The boutique manager stood trembling, stealing glances at Dominic Kessler where he sat on the sofa, sweat beading along her hairline.

Dominic rose and personally smoothed the train of the gown for Millicent, his tone perfectly casual. "She's got a red carpet next week and needs a showstopper. She's just borrowing it. Pick something off the rack and make do. Don't make a scene."

Under the fitting room lights, Millicent admired herself in the mirror, beaming.

I caught my own reflection beside hers — street clothes, no makeup — utterly out of place. And suddenly, this wedding I'd spent a year planning struck me as absurd.

I didn't raise my voice. I simply slid the engagement ring off my finger and set it on the coffee table.

"Mr. Kessler is right. Off-the-rack is perfectly fine." I met his eyes. "So I'll find a groom who's willing to stand beside me in it."

——

The air in the salon went dead.

Dominic's hand froze mid-adjustment on Millicent's train.

He turned slowly. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes narrowed with cold appraisal.

"Gabriella Robinson. What did you just say?"

His voice carried the weight of a man unaccustomed to being challenged.

I looked at that handsome face and felt my stomach turn.

"I said the wedding is off."

My voice didn't waver.

A laugh broke the silence.

Millicent pressed her hand to her lips, shoulders shaking with barely concealed amusement. She gathered the crystal-encrusted train of my gown and sauntered over.

"Gabby, don't be so petty."

She blinked those wide, doe eyes, her voice dripping syrup.

"Dom was just worried I wouldn't have anything impressive enough for the film festival next week."

"This gown on me maximizes its commercial value."

"You're usually so sweet and accommodating. Why pick now to be difficult?"

Dom. She called him Dom like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I looked at her, ice in my gaze. "Take it off."

Millicent flinched and shrank behind Dominic, her eyes instantly rimming red.

"Dom, she's scaring me."

Dominic pulled Millicent behind him in one swift motion, his brow knotted tight.

He closed the distance between us in two strides, irritation radiating off him.

"Gabriella, are you done with this tantrum?"

He said it in that particular tone of his — the one designed to cut.

"Millicent is the company's biggest earner. Funneling resources her way is an investment in our future."

"You're a kept woman who doesn't work. Who exactly are you wearing a gown like this for?"

The entitlement in his voice hit me like a slap.

Five years. Five years of everything I'd given, and in his eyes, it amounted to who are you wearing it for.

I drew a slow breath. My nails dug into my palms.

"Dominic, this gown was made to my measurements. I waited six months for it."

"You decided to lend it out. Did you once ask what I thought?"

He scoffed, utterly dismissive.

"Ask what you thought?"

He stepped closer, his presence bearing down on me.

"This gown cost three million dollars. I paid for it."

"The clothes on your back, the things you use every day — name one thing that didn't come from me."

"And now you want to talk about your opinion?"

His finger jabbed hard into my shoulder.

"Gabriella, learn some gratitude."

"Just because I've indulged you doesn't mean you get to pull stunts like this."

I stared at the man in front of me — this arrogant, self-assured stranger.

He genuinely saw nothing wrong with giving away his fiancée's wedding gown.

In his eyes, I was nothing more than an accessory. A possession that existed at his convenience.