Called Off the Wedding, Left Him Bankrupt novel Chapter 89

Benedict shoved aside anyone who tried to stop him, his patience worn thin. He slumped onto the couch and poured himself a stiff drink, brooding in silence.

The others, seeing him finally calm down, exchanged relieved glances and breathed easier.

They soon gathered around, offering gentle words, urging him to let Zachary's provocations go. There was no point stooping to his level, they said.

Benedict just sat there, face dark and unreadable, ignoring them all.

By the time he'd finished the bottle, he grabbed his suit jacket from beside him and spoke in a low voice.

"I'm leaving."

No one tried to stop him this time. Instead, they just laughed it off and followed him to the door, seeing him out with claps on the back and forced cheer.

Frank, his assistant, was waiting in the car outside. As soon as he saw Benedict coming, he hurried out and opened the rear door.

Benedict's so-called friends crowded around him, half-dragging, half-pushing him into the back seat. The car door slammed shut, muffling their voices. Frank returned to the driver's seat, glanced in the rearview mirror at Benedict's stony expression, hesitated, then finally spoke up.

"Mr. Shepard, Miss Tremaine called off the engagement party today."

Benedict's heart skipped. Without a second thought for his silent standoff with Cynthia, he fumbled for his phone and dialed her number.

This time, Cynthia picked up.

"What is it?"

Her cool, even voice came through the line, steady as ever. The calmness in her tone eased Benedict's nerves, if only a little.

"I heard you cancelled the engagement party. Why didn't you talk to me first?"

He kept his voice low, doing his best to hide the anxiety tight in his chest.

Cynthia sounded almost cheerful, answering without a hint of irritation.

"The engagement party was my grandmother's idea. Now that she's gone, I barely know half the guests. So I cancelled it and told everyone we'll just celebrate at the wedding. If they want to come, they're welcome. If not, that's fine too."

Hearing her explanation, Benedict finally relaxed.

"A decision this big—you really should have discussed it with me."

"Aren't you always busy with work?" Cynthia replied. "I figured since I could handle it on my own, there was no need to bother you."

He couldn't stand the thought of Cynthia putting money and practical concerns above everything else. He wanted things to go back to how they were, when she only cared about him.

"Our relationship isn't something you can compare to money and interests," Cynthia replied.

Because in truth, it wasn't even close.

Seven years together—feelings faded, love changed. But money never did.

She still needed more to cover the losses at Tremaine Holdings. No matter how she looked at it, money was the only thing that mattered now.

With a substantial sum in hand, she could return to the Capital and, together with her sister, restore the Tremaine legacy. At least then, the past seven years wouldn't feel like such a total loss.

Benedict, missing all the subtext, pressed on, desperate.

"Cyndi, I swear, after we're married, I'll make it up to you. I'll do everything I can to make you happy—I'll never let you get hurt again."

"So… will you transfer the money or not?"

Benedict froze, his face growing even grimmer.