After His Public Engagement, I Resigned Chapter 02

After His Public Engagement, I Resigned Chapter 02

When Desmond got home, I was standing on the balcony.

He changed out of his shoes and wrapped his arms around me from behind, the way he always did, his breath warm against my neck.

“Why didn’t you go to the restaurant?”

I said nothing.

His arms tightened.

“What, are you jealous?”

The old me would have swallowed it and said nothing more.

Not this time.

I pulled away and forced a smile.

“Jealous as what, exactly? The lover? The kept woman? Or the other woman?”

I turned to face him.

“We agreed from the start—if you ever loved someone else, or found someone to marry, you’d tell me. I wouldn’t make it difficult.”

I’d met him outside the office building.

He’d chased off my parents when they came demanding money, even sent a lawyer to shield my dignity.

That was the moment my heart had first stirred.

After that, I kept finding reasons to run into him in the parking garage.

One day I twisted my ankle and couldn’t get away in time.

He closed the distance slowly, backing me into a corner.

“Want to try something with me? Something quiet.”

From that day, our relationship became a secret.

We’d promised each other—if either of us found someone we truly wanted, we’d say so honestly and end it.

He never did.

Worse, he’d let me become the other woman, and then brought the real fiancée right in front of me.

I took a breath.

“I want this to end.”

He went still—in six years, no matter how upset I’d been, I’d never said those words.

“You’re throwing a fit because of Isabelle?”

He looked down at me, his expression unreadable.

“I thought we understood each other. I didn’t realize you trusted me this little.”

He tapped something quickly into his phone.

Moments later, a transfer notification came through. Fifty thousand dollars.

“Birthday present.”

There it was again—that lofty, untouchable air, never once willing to actually work through a problem.

Just wait for me to cool down on my own, and things would go back to normal.

“I don’t want it.”

Something flickered across his face—irritation, quickly suppressed.

“Playing hard to get? You’ve never turned down money before.”

He grabbed his jacket to leave.

At the door he paused, as if remembering something.

“Don’t forget to take your pill.”

“What pill?”

He gave a short laugh, leaning lazily against the entryway console.

“This afternoon. I didn’t use anything.”

“Or are you hoping to use a baby as leverage to force my hand?”

I lowered my eyes, laughing bitterly.

So that was it.

“Don’t worry. You already have a fiancée. I won’t cling.”

He turned and left, the door slamming behind him.

I understood him less and less. I didn’t even know what he was angry about.

I ordered the morning-after pill online and swallowed it with a glass of water.

Fine.

This whole relationship was too filthy. I had to get out.