When My Fiancée Betrayed Me, I Ended It All

My eyes swept over the newly assembled bed, then settled on Derek, whose composure began to stiffen.

“Derek,” I said slowly, deliberately, “the antique porcelain vase you ‘borrowed’ from me is worth around $64,000. That top-of-the-line German kitchen appliance set? The invoice reads $170,000. And the 18th-century blue-and-white vase in my study? It sold at Christie’s last year for $540,000.”

I spoke steadily, each word deliberate, clear, and precise.

“Oh, by the way,” I said, glancing toward the far corner, “that figurine cabinet at the end—any one of those rare pieces in there has a market value of no less than six figures.”

“Do you want me to go through them one by one?”

With each figure I named, Derek’s face darkened. He avoided my gaze, darting instead to the workers, who had paused mid-task, listening intently.

The curiosity in their eyes quickly shifted to surprise, then morphed into undisguised contempt.

Cassandra’s expression changed as well. First disbelief, then anger. Her cheeks flushed—not with embarrassment, but with the fury and shame climbing her spine.

“Lucas!” she snapped, voice trembling with rage.

“Shut up! Who told you to say that?!”

She stepped forward, pointing a finger at my nose.

“What’s wrong with Derek taking some of your things? I told you it was a loan! Don’t you understand?”

“You’re a grown man, and yet you calculate everything so meticulously? Isn’t that… disgusting?”

“Do you really have to be so stubborn?”

“Fine! I can’t live like this anymore!”

“Break up! Do you hear me? We’re breaking up!”

Her roar echoed through the room, eyes blazing, expecting me to panic, apologize, and compromise like always.

Behind her, Derek lowered his eyes, attempting to hide his embarrassment, but his tight lips and the faint twitch in his eyes betrayed his humiliation.

I smiled faintly, pulling out my phone. Turning to the workers, I asked,

“Master, how much is this bed, including installation?”

They told me, and I transferred the money immediately.

The notification chimed. Cassandra’s expression softened, the corners of her mouth lifting ever so slightly. She thought I had finally yielded.

Then, the doorbell rang.

I turned and opened it. A beautiful young woman stood there—long, slightly curled hair, large bright eyes, fair skin. A few neighbors followed behind her.

She looked at me timidly.

“Hello… we’re here to move some things. Is this a good time?”

I smiled and nodded.

“Of course, it’s convenient. Please, take whatever you like. It’s free. And if you need help moving anything, I can assist.”