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Wrong Key to My Heart Novel Cover

Wrong Key to My Heart

After seven years of anonymously building Natasha Doyle’s design empire, the protagonist prepares to reveal his true identity and propose at a prestigious awards gala. However, his dreams shatter when Natasha takes the stage with Connor Gibson, publicly crediting him for the protagonist's sacrifices. Devastated by her betrayal, he decides to retaliate. He cuts all financial ties and abandons her studio to face a looming patent infringement lawsuit without his protection.
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Chapter 2

Natasha became visibly irritated. Her fingers tapped impatiently against the nightstand as she snapped, "Stop being sarcastic. My parents have been nagging me about getting married lately.

"Since there are already rumors that Connor and I are together, I decided to just let him help me out to placate them. What's the big deal? Must you make life harder for me at a time like this?"

Sneering, I got out of bed and grabbed a pillow.

"Did you need him to help placate your parents? Couldn't you have just let your parents meet me instead? It's been seven years, and you're not even willing to tell them about me," I reminded her.

My words completely infuriated Natasha. She grabbed my arm forcefully, her nails digging into my skin. "You want me to officially introduce you as my boyfriend? Who do you even think you are?"

She exploded, coming up with all sorts of excuses to defend her actions and attacking me with all manner of accusations. Soon, she'd raised her voice so high that she was practically shrieking.

"Do you even get it? It's because you're a bum without any ambition! All you do is laze around the whole day. What else can you even do, besides writing a few lines of code and drawing a few sketches?

"How could I ever admit in public that I have a boyfriend who has to leech off his girlfriend? That's humiliating! What would my fellow designers, clients, and investors think of me?

"If you had even half of Connor's abilities or career potential, we'd already be married! He brings me resources and opportunities, unlike you, who just take and take!"

The moment Natasha finished her tirade, it suddenly hit her that she'd gone too far. She immediately froze. When our eyes met, she looked away. Even her lips started to tremble.

A dead silence fell over the room. Even the sound of our breathing could be heard. The occasional noise from a passing car outside the window only seemed to emphasize the heaviness of the silence.

I felt as if I'd been stabbed in the heart. Only now did I realize just how pathetic she thought I was. My seven years of devotion and sacrifice were worthless in her eyes.

After what felt like ages, Natasha finally said to me in a much softer tone, "I got you a new desktop computer. It's in the study. And don't take what I said seriously. I'm just far too exhausted right now."

She swiftly exited the bedroom, the sound of her heels fading down the corridor.

How could I not take what she said seriously?

Words spoken in anger often revealed how one truly felt. The tender affection she usually showed me only existed because she needed me.

The next day, I went to check the desktop computer Natasha had given me. It was the model I'd always wanted, perfect for design work.

I didn't really want it right now. I was just curious to see how genuine her "sincerity" was. After all, over the last seven years, she had almost always ignored all of my wishes and desires.

I turned on the computer and saw a video file right on the desktop. It had been created at 3:00 am, shortly after Natasha and Connor had returned last night.

When I played the video, Connor's face appeared on the screen. I could tell from the background that the video had been taken in this study.

Connor was dressed in a bathrobe, his hair slightly damp. It was clear he'd just come out of the shower.

"Hey, Simon. This computer was a birthday gift Natasha gave me last year. I was going to throw it out. The system's too old, and the specs can't keep up with my work. Since she wants to give it to you, you can have it. You don't need a top-of-the-line machine anyway, right?"

There it was. This was Natasha's so-called sincerity—an outdated, secondhand computer she didn't even bother to upgrade first.

The video was still playing. Connor's tone dripped with contempt as he said, "It's bad enough that you're sponging off Natasha, but you even want her to acknowledge you as her boyfriend in public? Don't you have any self-awareness? What makes you think you're worthy of her?

"Do you know how much a single design of hers is worth? What else are you capable of, besides mooching off her and using her money? How can you be so shameless? If I were you, I'd have left without being told years ago!"

I was used to Connor's attitude. Whenever I ran into him at the studio, he would always eye me as if I were some pathetic leech.

After turning off the video, I started clicking on the folders to see what else was there on the computer.

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