Eight Fiancés. One Queen. Zero Regrets Chapter 10

Eight Fiancés. One Queen. Zero Regrets Chapter 10

Grant eventually released a public apology.

In the video, he wore a black suit.

His face was hollow.

The once untouchable white knight was gone.

He read from Reid’s prepared statement.

He admitted to spreading and allowing false information about me during high school.

He admitted to withholding my application and shifting the blame onto me.

He admitted to purchasing smear campaigns, hiring livestreamers, and forging an entry pass for the gala.

He admitted that the claims about my “promiscuity” and “clinging to eight men” were malicious fabrications.

At the end, he looked directly into the camera. “Aurora. I’m sorry.”

I watched the video. Then I closed it.

I didn’t share it. I didn’t comment on it.

People like him didn’t get to live on my feed.

When the settlement was finalized, I divided the money.

Half went toward continuing investigations into old rumors.

The other half went toward establishing a fund for people who had suffered from fake scandals, stalking, and cyberbullying—people who couldn’t afford lawyers or didn’t know how to preserve evidence.

Dashiell asked, “What should we call the fund?”

Colt said, “The Shut-His-Mouth Fund.”

Reid immediately rejected it. *Denied.*

Tristan added, “Too aggressive.”

Zane looked thoughtful. “But accurate.”

Lachlan smiled.

“How about Echo?”

“Let liars hear the consequences of their own words.”

I nodded. “Done.”

A month later, the Vances held a private family dinner.

No media. No livestreams.

Just Grandpa Harold, me, and the eight candidates.

Halfway through dinner, Grandpa Harold brought up the old topic.

“Aurora. Among the eight of them, does anyone catch your eye?”

My fork paused.

The eight men fell silent.

Reid stared at his tea like he was reviewing a contract.

Colt sat up straighter.

Tristan adjusted his glasses.

Ford stopped flipping through his documents.

Zane put down his tablet.

Dashiell’s smile remained lazy, but his ears had turned slightly red.

Sullivan stayed calm, only lightly tapping his glass.

Lachlan watched me with warm eyes.

I set down my fork.

“Grandpa, I just took over the Vance family’s assets.”

“I have board training to complete.”

“The Echo Fund needs to be managed.”

“There are still lawsuits to pursue.”

“I don’t have time to choose a man right now.”

Grandpa Harold stared at me.

“You don’t like any of them?”

I thought for a moment.

“They’re all excellent.”

Eight expressions shifted slightly.

“So I can’t rush it.”

“I made that mistake once before.”

“This time, I need to protect my judgment.”

Dashiell suddenly burst out laughing.

Colt frowned. “What are you laughing at?”

Dashiell grinned. “Someone’s nervous.”

Reid said dryly, “You’re not exactly calm either.”

The table immediately descended into bickering.

Grandpa Harold rubbed his temples and tapped his walking stick against the floor.

“Enough.”

“Vances don’t marry young unless they want to.”

I smiled. “Now that, I agree with.”

Later, Grant left Lake George.

The Holloway Group’s financing collapsed.

Projects fell apart.

The shows that had booked him for his “clean image” canceled one after another.

Online, people still mentioned him.

But no longer as a white knight.

They called him what he was.

A fraud.

Maren and the livestreamers faced consequences as well.

Compensation. Apologies. Account bans. All of it followed.

No one joked about my past anymore.

Because everyone knew: Aurora Vance sued. And she sued expensively.

Spring arrived. I returned to Fairhaven.

Not for nostalgia. I went there to donate a building.

At the new media center dedication ceremony, the principal gave an awkward welcome.

Some of the old teachers were still there.

Their expressions were complicated.

I didn’t make things difficult for anyone.

I simply stood on stage and said to the students, “Let this be a place where no one is mocked for being poor.”

“And no one is shamed for loving the wrong person.”

“If someone lies about you—don’t be afraid.”

“Save the evidence.”

“Call the police.”

“Sue.”

“Make them pay.”

The applause was thunderous.

I walked out into the sunlight.

Lachlan was waiting beside the car. “Where to?”

I thought for a moment. “The office.”

He looked surprised.

“On your day off?”

“Yeah.”

I opened the car door.

“But I just realized something.”

“Making money is more interesting than choosing a fiance.”

He laughed. “What about the eight fiances?”

I slid into the seat and slowly buckled my seat belt.

“They can wait in line.”

“Aurora Vance is very busy.”

Outside the window, spring sunlight poured over Lake George.

I was no longer the girl standing in the rain, waiting for someone to return her application.

I no longer needed anyone to prove that I was worthy of love.

The eight fiancés were real.

The Vance heiress was real.

But the truest thing was this: My life was never about waiting to be chosen.

It was about sitting in the driver’s seat, and taking my time.