Called Off the Wedding, Left Him Bankrupt novel Chapter 3

She'd listed the villa for sale at a price well below market value—by tens of thousands, in fact—so it wasn't long before her inbox filled with messages from eager prospective buyers.

By the time Cynthia finished replying to all the inquiries, it was already late into the night.-

Restless and nowhere near sleep, she opened up a new app that had recently become popular among women.

She'd barely logged in when a trending post caught her attention:

"My boyfriend's getting married in two months. Today, I slept with him at the bridal boutique while he was helping his fiancée try on her wedding dress. It was thrilling—dangerous, but amazing."

The comments section was a storm of outrage, with people hurling insults at the original poster. Some even hoped that the algorithm would push the post to the fiancée herself.

Cynthia's hand trembled as she tapped into the poster's profile.

She scrolled quickly, all the way down to the very first post. There was no caption—just a photo.

Two hands, fingers tightly intertwined.

She recognized, instantly, the tiny mole on the man's index finger and the glint of a ring on his fourth finger.

The post was dated six months ago—almost exactly a week before Benedict had proposed to her.

Cynthia stared blankly at the matching ring on her own finger, a wave of nausea rising in her chest.

Without hesitation, she yanked the ring off and tossed it into the toilet, flushing it away.

Something tainted had no business staying with her.

Moments later, the original poster updated with a new message. This time, there was no smug triumph—just a desperate plea.

"Please stop insulting me. We've agreed—he'll go back to his fiancée, whole and untouched, in a month."

The attached photo showed a man's back as he lay on a bed.

That silhouette was so familiar, it made Cynthia's skin crawl.

Go back to her, whole and untouched?

What a joke.

In that instant, Cynthia understood why people sometimes laugh when there's nothing left to say.

Benedict didn't come home at all that night. In the morning, he called—offering no explanations, only a brief instruction to meet him at the bridal boutique.

At the bridal boutique.

Cynthia arrived a few minutes early.

"She's an intern from one of our partner companies. Reminds me a bit of how you were, years ago. I thought you might like her, so I brought her along to meet you."

He beckoned, and the girl hurried over, extending her hand to Cynthia.

"Hello, Cynthia. I'm Giselle Channing. It's really nice to meet you."

Cynthia didn't take her hand. She averted her eyes, her tone icy and distant.

"Giselle Channing? Fitting name. I suppose it's rare for a man to walk away from an enchanting dream entirely unchanged."

The girl's smile faltered, a hint of hurt flickering across her face.

"Are you saying I'm good at stealing other women's men, Cynthia?"

The grip around Cynthia's waist tightened painfully. She glanced sideways at Benedict, catching the annoyance in his eyes. He relaxed his hold a little and leaned in to murmur near her ear.

"Take it out on me later, if you want. Scream, hit, whatever you need. But don't embarrass the girl—she's sensitive."

"Let's just try on the dress, okay?"

The staff, shaken from their daze, quickly retrieved the gown and motioned for Cynthia to follow them to the fitting room.