My Fiancé Fired Me and His Girl Took My Code Chapter 03

My Fiancé Fired Me and His Girl Took My Code Chapter 03

I left HR and went to find Preston.

Passing the CEO’s office, I saw the door was open.

Gavin Mason was in his chair. Our eyes met.

He didn’t flicker, just turned away.

I did the same.

I didn’t break stride until I reached the conference room.

I pushed the door open. The entire Sales department looked up.

I ignored them all, walked over to Preston, and swiped his BMW keys off the table.

I turned and walked out.

The whole thing took less than five seconds.

Three seconds later, my phone rang.

“You’re using my car?”

I gave a curt hum.

“Could you give me a heads-up next time? I’ve got meetings all night.”

I curled my lip.

“Do I need your permission to drive my own car?”

He paused.

“What is your problem? I dropped Chloe off this morning because she twisted her ankle. Is that really such a big deal?”

“Whatever. You can drive her for the rest of your life for all I care. Just keep her out of my car.”

I hung up.

I found my car in the lot. The moment I opened the door, a wave of sickening, cloying perfume hit me so hard I started coughing.

I looked at the interior and felt my blood boil.

Preston’s schedule was chaotic; he was always on the road for sales trips. I’d been taking the subway lately.

The cream-colored leather interior was now covered in pink and white girly accessories.

Heart-shaped pillows and plush toys were tossed across the backseat.

On the passenger seat, a pair of fluffy slippers with rabbit ears sat waiting.

I stared for a few seconds, grabbed them one by one, and tossed them into the trash bin.

The interior was finally back to normal, but I still felt the urge to deep-clean the whole thing.

On the way home, Preston called again.

“Valerie, what did you say to Regina? What do you mean we aren’t getting married? Get back here and sign the papers. Stop acting like a brat.”

I took a deep breath.

“I’m not acting like a brat. I’m not signing that agreement, and I’m not marrying you.”

He went silent, his breathing ragged.

“Valerie, do you have any idea what you’re saying? We’ve been together six years. We bought a house! What is going through your head?”

My voice was dead calm—so calm it actually surprised me.

“Nothing. I just realized you aren’t worth it.”

I hung up, tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, and let it ring over and over again.

Back home, I started packing up every trace of us.

Slippers, toothbrushes, towels, photo albums—everything went into a single cardboard box.

In the middle of it, Preston’s mother called.

Her voice was still “sweet”, but the edges were sharp with annoyance.

“Valerie, dear? Are you and Pres having a spat? Let me tell you, he’s just so busy with work. You aren’t like him. You really should be more understanding.”

I almost wanted to applaud. A well-bred woman who could insult you without ever using a curse word.

“Mrs. Wilson, I’m clearly not good enough for your son. So, the wedding is off.”

I hung up and blocked her number.

Thirty minutes later, Preston came storming in.

He started yelling the second he hit the doorway.

“Valerie! My mother called me. Why did you block her?”

I was in the middle of tossing a pair of mugs—the ones with our photo plastered on them—into the box.

They shattered against the bottom.

The sound was as sharp as the look on Preston’s face.

“There’s no point anymore. We’re done. Yours are going too.”

He finally seemed to register how serious I was.

“What do you mean by that?”

I dropped the rest of the stuff and looked him in the eye.

“Preston, did you see that spreadsheet I sent last night?”

He hesitated, looking uncomfortable.

“I saw it. It’s just wedding expenses…”

“Exactly. The house and the renovation cost 5.8 million. If you want the house, buy me out. If you don’t, you pay me and I’ll take it. As for the rest, it’s all itemized—split down the middle.”

He stared at me, eyes wide with shock.

“Valerie, are you seriously breaking up with me?”

“Yes.”

“Just because I got you laid off?”

“It’s more than that.”

“Then what is it?”

I looked at him. “You know exactly what it is.”

He panicked. “Is this about Chloe? I told you, she’s just a little sister to me…”

“Preston,” I cut him off. “I’m not an idiot. Let’s at least keep a shred of dignity here.”

I turned, walked into my room, and locked the door behind me.