I Proposed To Him, The Comments Told Me His Heart Belonged To Her Chapter 03

I Proposed To Him, The Comments Told Me His Heart Belonged To Her Chapter 03

A few days later, I was sorting through my visa application when the watch boutique called.

“Miss Whitmore, your custom order is ready. Are you able to pick it up today?”

I didn’t answer right away.

I’d almost forgotten.

Grant’s birthday was coming up.

At the boutique, the associate lifted the lid, and I couldn’t stop staring.

The engraving on the back hit me like a slap.

Property of Sienna Whitmore. Forever.

I’d designed it myself. Changed the font six times.

Back then, I thought it was the most romantic thing in the world.

Now it just made me feel…

Humiliated.

Completely, pathetically humiliated.

[Here it comes. The adopted daughter’s gonna try to buy his love with a birthday gift. Again.]

[Why even bother with a custom watch? The male lead couldn’t care less about her.]

[She literally tries to use this gift to win him back later. I can’t.]

I closed my eyes. Then I closed the box.

“Destroy it.”

The associate stared. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

[WHAT. Did she just say DESTROY IT?!]

[That watch is worth like $140K!]

[She’s just being dramatic. Counting to three… she’ll come crawling back for it.]

I didn’t look back. I walked out of the boutique, crossed the avenue, and bought a fountain pen instead.

Grant’s birthday. Private room at an exclusive club, packed wall to wall.

Blaire gave her gift first: a set of limited-edition cuff links.

Everyone started teasing them. Blaire’s cheeks went pink, and she looked up at Grant with shy, hopeful eyes.

Grant barely reacted.

His gaze found me instead, expectant.

I tossed my gift at him. “Happy birthday, idiot. One year closer to death.”

He opened it. The second he saw the fountain pen, his face went dark.

“Where’s the watch?”

That stare almost cracked me. I held my ground anyway.

“What, a pen’s not good enough for you?”

Grant dropped the pen back in the box like it burned him.

He didn’t say another word to me for the rest of the night.

Near the end of the party, the Prescott family’s butler appeared to remind Grant about the family dinner.

I reached for my purse without thinking.

Habit.

Every year, the Prescotts held a private family dinner for his birthday. Immediate family only. I’d been invited to every single one.

Then Grant turned to Blaire. “Come with me.”

The room went dead quiet.

Blaire blinked.

“Me? But that’s your family’s private dinner. I thought it was strictly family. Except for Sienna.”

“Let’s go.” He said it to Blaire, but his eyes were on me.

[Oh, she’s DONE. That family dinner is basically a stamp of approval from the Prescotts. He just replaced her in front of everyone. That’s a public execution.]

[He’s stripping every privilege she had. No way she keeps it together this time.]

My hand had already clenched into a fist.

Grant hadn’t looked away.

Slowly, I uncurled my fingers.

Before, I’d been pushed out of his life. This time, I was the one walking away.

Maybe all we were ever meant to be was friends.

I slung my bag over my shoulder. “I’ll head out, then.”

Grant’s whole face locked up. For half a second, he looked afraid.

His mouth opened, but I was already through the door.

Someone caught up to me outside the club.

“Sienna.”

I turned.

He looked like he was choosing his words carefully.

“Look, I know this sounds bad, but everyone knows you’re not a biological Whitmore anymore. Grant’s the best thing you’ve got. Don’t let go of that.”

“Thanks. But I can hold myself up.”

I flagged a cab and climbed in. My phone lit up with a notification.

[Your visa has been approved.]

I stared at those words for a long time.

The ache in my chest, for the first time all night, started to ease.

At least I still had somewhere to go.

Back at the house, I started packing.

My phone buzzed again.

A friend I’d asked for a favor had finally texted back.

[Hey, Sienna, it’s kind of a bad time for me. Sorry about that.]

I stared at the screen.

People were already distancing themselves. That fast.

At eleven, Blaire showed up at my door with her arms full of gifts.

“Sienna, the Prescotts gave me so much stuff. I wanted to share some with you.”

She pulled out a limited-edition handbag. Then a set of lipsticks.

“Grant got me the entire collection. Which shade do you want?”

I waited for it to hurt. It didn’t.

I picked a warm red. “Thanks.”

Blaire’s smile faltered.

She lingered for a moment. “Well… good night, Sienna.”

“Night.”

I shut the door, opened my laptop, and pulled up flights.

Tomorrow. 7 a.m.

I was up before sunrise, dragging my suitcase down the stairs.

Past the gates, I stopped and looked back at the house, the only home I’d known for twenty years.

Then I turned around and kept walking.