Eight Fiancés. One Queen. Zero Regrets Chapter 01

Eight Fiancés. One Queen. Zero Regrets Chapter 01

My first love, the one who got away, showed up at my engagement party and called me a slut.

He barged in with two livestreamers, shoving cameras in my face.

“Aurora, everyone at school knew how hard you chased me,” he said. “Now you’re juggling eight guys at once? Don’t you have any shame?”

The room erupted.

“Desperate much? She’ll throw herself at anything with a pulse.”

“So basically a prostitute. What’s the difference between one and eight?”

I didn’t cry. I didn’t shake. I didn’t rush to defend myself.

I simply set down my champagne glass and waved behind me.

Eight men stepped forward at once.

I took the microphone, looked straight into the livestream camera, and smiled.

“Allow me to introduce my eight fiancés.”

“I’m not chasing them. They’re the ones lining up for me.”

—

The party exploded online. Grant Holloway probably thought I’d go into hiding.

I did the opposite.

The next morning, I walked straight into the city’s most expensive mall with all eight of them in tow. The busiest entrance. The most camera-friendly location.

I wore a black gown, emerald drop earrings, and carried a brand-new crocodile Birkin.

The eight men spread out behind me.

One held my coat.

One checked the time.

One handled media calls.

One reviewed legal documents.

One monitored the security perimeter.

One pulled up last night’s livestream analytics.

One confirmed the jewelry display with the store manager.

And the most ridiculous one—held a glass of water like I might collapse from dehydration at any second.

Passersby stared. Phones rose one after another.

“Is that her? The one from last night?”

“The eight fiancés thing is real?”

“Holy shit, I thought it was just a PR stunt. She’s actually even more extravagant in person.”

I heard them. Not only did I hear them—I turned my face slightly so they could get a better shot.

Dashiell Cole chuckled beside me.

“Great angle, princess.”

I shot him a look.

“Shut up.”

He immediately shut up, then signaled the mall staff to turn up the lighting.

I had no words.

Fine. Being the heir to a media empire came with occupational hazards.

The hashtags exploded again.

#AuroraVanceEightFiancés#

#WhoIsTheVanceHeiress#

Grant saw it too. He posted on his social media:

[The louder someone screams, the more they’re trying to hide.]

Someone took a screenshot, and the comment section went wild.

[Does the ex-boyfriend know something?]

[Eight guys is insane.]

[Rich people are something else.]

[She’s from our town—my classmate said she used to be broke. Now she’s a heiress?]

I sat in the jewelry store’s VIP room, saw the screenshot, and laughed out loud.

Reid Sterling looked up.

He was a lawyer. He didn’t look like a good man when he smiled. He looked even less like one when he didn’t.

“Want me to handle it?”

“No rush.”

I flipped my phone face-down on the table.

“He’s only said one thing.”

Colt Maddox leaned against the door, scoffing.

“That trash? Three words from him are already three too many.”

Dashiell drawled lazily, “Nah, let him talk. Every post saves us advertising money.”

Lachlan Wells set the water glass beside my hand.

“Drink.”

I looked at it and couldn’t help laughing.

“Lachlan, I didn’t just crawl out of the desert.”

His voice was impossibly gentle.

“You screamed for twenty minutes last night. Your throat needs it.”

Fine. Fair point.

Last night, Grant had stormed in, calling me dirty and a social climber, saying I’d traded my way into status.

I didn’t slap him. Not because I was above it.

Because his face wasn’t worth the lawsuit.

I’d loved him once. Blindly. Stupidly.

He basked in my feelings while looking down on me for being poor.

I organized his files—he called it “classmate mutual assistance.” I got mocked by the entire school for chasing him—he said I was overthinking it.

The year I hit rock bottom, he stepped on me the hardest.

Now I’m a Vance, and he’s crawling back just to make my life miserable.

Good. Old scores and new ones—finally on the same table.

A knock came at the VIP door. The store manager entered with a diamond necklace.

“Miss Vance, your custom order from yesterday.”

I glanced at it.

Reid asked, “Like it?”

“No.”

“Then why order it?”

I looked past the glass wall. A woman in sunglasses stood outside, her phone camera pointed directly at me.

Maren Delaney. Grant’s current girlfriend.

I smiled slowly.

“Someone loves to watch.”

“Then let her get an eyeful.”