My Fiancé Married My Best Friend Chapter 02

My Fiancé Married My Best Friend Chapter 02

Panic flickered in his eyes, then indignation, then confusion. “You’re questioning me now? After all these years?” He raked a hand through his hair. “Chloe and I grew up together. Lines just get blurred sometimes. It’s nothing. It’s not what you think.”

He stood his ground, acting like he was my loyal fiancé just protecting a good friend.

But everything fell apart. Suddenly, every weird moment over the past five years clicked into place.

The endless three-way hangouts. He’d forget our anniversary, yet show up at midnight on Chloe’s birthday with a diamond necklace. I can’t handle spicy food, but every restaurant he chose was blazing hot because “Chloe loves Mexican.” When Chloe had cramps, he’d give her the day off. When I was curled up pale and sweating on a heating pad, he’d just tell me to take ibuprofen and not miss the investor meeting.

Chloe and I built his business empire together. When his family’s import-export operation—I called it gray-market trading and chose to look the other way—went legit and public, her stock options were double mine. I complained. I was jealous.

His response was always the same. A sigh. “Chloe’s been with me since we were kids. She’s like family. She’s your best friend too. I have to take care of her.”

Family. He looked at her like she held his soul.

Liam shoved me into a sedan. Cold. Robotic. “Go home. Calm down. You’re being dramatic.”

He drove me to our sleek Tribeca loft and didn’t even turn off the engine when I got out. “Chloe’s really shaken up. Stress isn’t good for the baby. I have to go check on her.” His concern was a laser beam. Only on her. The damage I’d taken didn’t exist to him.

The loft was silent. I walked numb to his study. In the bottom desk drawer, buried under financial reports, I found a leather-bound journal.

Every page held a boarding pass stub to Los Angeles. And below. Notes. Clear ones.

“Chloe is handling the West Coast expansion. I can’t focus knowing she’s out there alone.”

“Business in LA. Three days. Need to see her.”

I flipped to our third anniversary. A chill crawled down my spine.

“Finally told her. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. She feels the same way. This is real. I can’t let her go.”

“She said it would destroy Nina. She made me promise not to break up with her. I agreed. For now.”

“She let me stay the night. My body… wants her in a way it never wanted Nina.”

I remembered that day now. I’d called him a dozen times, planning a surprise dinner. He never answered. Finally, a text came through: “Swamped. Don’t bother me.”

He was in her bed.

The last entry was posted last week.

“She’s pregnant. How dare she marry that idiot? I won’t allow it. She’s mine.”

A folded paper slipped out. A prenatal report. Father’s name: Liam Russo.

My hands shook so hard the paper rattled. The day Chloe told me she was pregnant, Liam was on a flight to LA within the hour. He’d generously given me time off and insisted I fly out to help her with the wedding.

The runaway groom hadn’t run. He’d been taken. By Liam. All so he could play the hero and marry his woman and his heir.

My phone buzzed. My mom.

“Nina, baby! Final headcount! When are you and Liam coming? The whole family’s waiting!”

“Mom,” I said. My voice was eerily calm. “I can’t marry Liam.”

Before her shriek could fill the line, I added, “Don’t cancel anything. The wedding is still on.”

I just needed a different groom.