He Chased Me to Spite His Enemy. So I Left Him at the Altar Chapter 10

He Chased Me to Spite His Enemy. So I Left Him at the Altar Chapter 10

Three years in England, I threw myself into my work and landed a job as an assistant professor. I teach in the anthropology department at University College London- ironically, my research focus is “The Boundary Between Supernatural Beings and Human Society.” My advisor still has no idea that her star student comes from one of the biggest werewolf noble families in North America. 

Right before graduation, my college best friend Maya Chen 

came to visit. 

“So I was back in the States the other day… guess who I saw?” 

“Who?” 

“Your two–timing ex.” 

Maya was furious. “That asshole–he found me and put on this whole dramatic act about how much he misses you.” 

Hearing about him again didn’t stir anything in me. “He came looking for you?” 

“Not just me. Basically every single person you ever knew in college and grad school. But you told us not to tell him anything, and you had your family put a muzzle on 

information too. There’s no way he’s finding you. But damn, 

that guy is unhinged.” 

I clinked my glass against hers. “I don’t really care about him 

anymore.” 

“And you shouldn’t. Before I left, he tried to make me bring 

you a wedding dress. He said he’d been waiting for you all this 

time. Like, who asked him to wait?” 

I shrugged. “It’s all in the past.” 

I’m not going to be bitter just because the ending didn’t live up to the journey. 

There’s no wound that won’t heal, no heartbreak that doesn’t 

end. 

I let go of all that years ago. 

“But he snuck this into my bag before I left. What a dick.” 

She handed it to me–the photo album I’d made him put 

together. 

It was full of pictures of the two of us. From when we were almost–strangers to when we started to fall for each other. 

A record of everything we’d been through from the start of our 

relationship. 

On the very last page, in his bold handwriting: 

**Evelyn Blackwood–I love you.** 

Maya saw it too and gave me a nervous look. “Hey… you’re not getting all emotional, are you?” 

I snapped the album shut and threw it in the trash. 

“Please. If I got emotional over that, I’d have to admit all my 

hard work moving on was a joke.” 

Maya sighed in relief. “But actually, there *is* something you 

might find interesting.” 

From Maya, I heard the story of Tatum Reed. Apparently it was all over the news back home. She got caught sleeping with a married man, and the wife beat the shit out of her in public. 

Then she tried to go live and clear her name. 

But it just backfired–people dug up even more dirt on her. Apparently this wasn’t her first time. Every post she’d ever made about chasing Dorian Thorne got dragged back into the light. 

Her “secret crush diary” turned into public enemy number 

one: 

**She knew he was taken. God, this makes me sick.** 

**I didn’t know people could be this shameless about being the other woman.** 

**Confessing to a guy the day before his wedding? Saying you want to give him your virginity? What the hell is wrong with her?** 

**If I were the bride, I would’ve knocked her teeth out.** 

*She’s trash, but he’s no innocent either. If he had any boundaries, she wouldn’t have had so much material.** 

And suddenly everyone was looking for the ending. Some “insider” said that the bride had run away on the wedding day. The groom had torn the city apart looking for her and lost his 

mind. 

A chorus of people saying: *Good. He deserved it.* 

Maya said: “I hope you never have to deal with either of those toxic idiots again.” 

Of course, the moment she said that–I had to give a talk as the outstanding PhD graduate of my year. And backstage afterward, there was Dorian Thorne. 

He grabbed my wrist. “Evelyn.” 

“Please. Can you just hear me out?” 

I pulled my hand back. My eyes were ice–cold. “Does it matter?” 

His face crumpled. His voice cracked. “Evelyn Blackwood… you can’t do this to me. Even criminals get to say their piece. You can’t just sentence me to death without letting me explain.” 

I looked at that face I used to love, completely calm. “It doesn’t matter what you say. The ending was already decided the moment those words came out of your mouth. *Sorry* won’t make it okay. An explanation won’t change anything.” 

He still wouldn’t give up. “There’s really no chance? Not even one? To make it right?” 

“What would be the point? From the second you said you only chased me to piss off Cassian Greymoor–there was no *us* 

anymore.” 

I thought for a moment, then continued: “Maybe I played along for a little while. Maybe part of me wanted to get back at you too. Maybe I kept hoping, through all those days of pretending everything was fine. But you still weren’t satisfied. You still wanted to humiliate me by leaving me at the altar. Dorian Thorne–what’s left to say? I don’t owe you anything.” 

“I owe *you*.” Dorian Thorne’s voice was desperate, his eyes even redder than before–wolf eyes take on an almost amber 

tint when they’re emotional, a sign they’re barely holding back their animal side. “I’m the one who owes you. That’s why I came. I wouldn’t have run away that day. I only wanted you as my bride.” 

“My only bride. My whole life.” 

Back when I used to read romance novels, I’d see the girl leave the guy when she’d had enough, and I’d be so excited for the part where he’d chase after her and suffer. I thought–that’s his punishment. That’s what he deserves: regret, guilt, finally realizing what he lost. 

But now that it was happening to me, it didn’t feel as satisfying as I’d imagined. 

Maybe because all that regret and guilt–none of it was worth 

the real feelings I’d put into that relationship. 

“What we had ended three years ago. Just go.”