You Thought I Was Plan B, Then I Became the Endgame

"Those guys accidentally spilled alcohol on Cynthia's friend just now and she got into an argument with them."

"She drank a lot tonight. I'm worried she'll cause a scene."

One of Cynthia's friends hurried over to explain.

Once I realized what had happened, I couldn't help but let out a bitter smile.

I remembered when I accompanied her to meet with a client. The deal failed and the client purposely splashed wine in my face.

Even then, she didn't get this angry.

Instead, she blamed me for not understanding 'table manners' and said I was the reason we lost the deal.

Seeing Cynthia go up to confront them again, her friend quickly rushed over to hold them back.

"Cynthia! Stop it, stop it! You're getting married soon, please don't make a scene!"

Still, Cynthia roughly shook her friend off.

"Who says I'm getting married?"

"This bastard spilled a drink on my boyfriend! You think we can just let this go?"

"No one's leaving until they apologize!"

Cynthia was drunk and staggered when she walked.

This also embarrassed some of her friends who knew me at the scene.

They couldn't help but look at me.

I smiled coldly, then stepped forward and slapped the man who was confronting Cynthia.

A sudden silence fell over the room.

"You bastard! You fucking dare to hit me, huh?"

After a moment of silence, the other person flew into a rage, lunging at me wildly.

Meanwhile, I just wanted to see Cynthia's reaction.

If she could get this furious for her so-called boyfriend, then what about me, her fiancé?

However, Cynthia shoved me hard in the chest, roaring.

"Why are you here to make trouble? Haven't I had enough chaos tonight already?"

"You're just making things worse!"

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut.

She then looked at the other man, self-righteously declaring, "Now we're even! Get lost!"

The other party was quite rational, especially after seeing my gloomy face. He didn't dare continue making trouble and finally left while cursing.

After he left, Cynthia collapsed onto the sofa.

Her friend came over, looking flustered. "Frederick, don't think it wrong. Cynthia's just drunk. She didn't mean any of that. This is Richard Stone, an old high school classmate of hers. He just got back from abroad."

I glanced at Richard. There was a faint smirk at the corner of his mouth.

His eyes were full of smugness and disdain.

"Richard, this is Cynthia's fiancé, Fred … "

Before she could finish, Cynthia suddenly shot up from the couch.

"Coworker! He's just a coworker, not my fiancé!"

Her words were like a sudden stab, making my body tremble.

The atmosphere instantly became incredibly awkward.

After a long silence, Cynthia's friend quickly tried to smooth things over, handing me a glass of wine.

"Frederick, let me offer you a toast."

Unexpectedly, Cynthia, who had just slumped back down, sat up again. She glared at her friend and snapped.

"Don't you know he is allergic to alcohol?"

It was true; I am allergic to alcohol and she knew it.

But what I hadn't expected was Richard's reaction.

"Cynthia, you're drunk. Lisa was toasting Frederick, not me."

Only then did Cynthia seem to relax.

"Oh, well, he can drink. He can really hold his liquor!"

"He's the best drinker in the whole company!"

When I heard that, it felt like something in my chest shattered with a loud crack.

It crushed my heart into pieces, leaving it bruised and bleeding.

A few years ago, I remember attending a business dinner. Before going, I had already told her that I was allergic to alcohol.

Still, she quickly insisted that I toast each client individually as soon as we arrived.

She said it would be embarrassing if a man didn't drink at an event like this.

That day, I ended up in the hospital from drinking and she even blamed me for being useless, collapsing after just a little alcohol.

Yet, despite such a harsh lesson, she still hadn't remembered my allergy.

It could only mean one thing: I had never truly been in her heart.

This time, I came holding onto one last shred of hope.

But now, it's shattered completely.

Just then, Richard stood up and said to me.

"Since you're here, why don't you take Cynthia home? I just got back, so I can't really look after her tonight."

"Oh, and remember to make her a cup of ginger honey water when she wakes up tomorrow. She loves it. If she doesn't have it, she'll have a headache all day."

"And don't forget to cover her with a blanket at night. Whenever she drinks too much, she sleeps restlessly."

Every word from Richard told me he seemed to know Cynthia better than I did.

Today, he was just dumping this mess on me.

I stared at the triumphant look in Richard's eyes for a long time, really wanting to punch him.

However, I eventually held back.

I wanted to see just how long they planned to keep up this charade.