Chapter 1
My boyfriend Damon just suddenly went full public on Instagram, announcing we’re tying the knot in two months.
All friends congratulating me on our seven–year relationship finally reaching the finish line. I was totally living for it, already deep in wedding planning mode
Until I accidentally eavesdropped on him and his buddies outside the private room-
“Bro, Damon, this whole Elimination Setup you’ve got is fucking brutal. Nineteen girls competing for the wife spot? That’s some twisted reality TV bullshit!” ||
“You already cut everyone else loose. Now it’s just Seraphina versus that girl you’ve been banging the most.“]
“What happens if you don’t pick Seraphina in two months? Aren’t you worried she’ll completely spiral?”
Then I heard Damon’s cold voice:
“Best performance wins. Pretty straightforward if you ask me. Emma better bring it if she wants that ring.”
Everyone cracked up:
“Dude, you’re playing favorites hardcore! You’ve been giving your little sweetheart such high scores, Seraphina’s basically screwed! This is like slow torture, man!”
Damon let out a harsh laugh before saying.
“May the best woman win. I’m giving her a shot, so if she doesn’t make the cut, can’t blame me for that!“]
I just stood there, completely frozen, my heart going absolutely insane.
In the next second, I grabbed my phone and texted the guy who’d been patiently waiting for me for eight years:
[Forget that ten–year pact. Come marry me now.]
0
Here’s the kicker – I still have zero clue who any of Damon’s side pieces actually are. Pathetic, right?
It wasn’t until this girl basically threw herself in my face that I realized Damon had been cheating for three whole months. Talk about being the last to know.
“Hey, I’m Chloe Winters. I’m here to drop off some special underwear for Mr. Blackwell.”
The smugness radiating off this chick was practically blinding as she pulled men’s boxers out of some fancy gift box.
“Mr. Blackwell ordered these yesterday but couldn’t pick them up himself, so here I am. He’s totally obsessed with this brand.“]
“Especially after we, you know, do our thing. These are supposed to be good for recovery or whatever.“]
“And trust me, with his appetite, we’re talking at least fifteen times a month. Guy definitely needs the extra support.“]
Fifteen times?]
Was this bitch seriously bragging about their sex life to my face?]
My stomach dropped to the floor, but I kept my expression neutral while studying this girl. [
She looked barely legal – maybe eighteen, nineteen tops.
“Thanks for bringing them by. I’ll make sure he gets them when he’s back.“]
I dug through my purse and pulled out a twenty, holding it out to her:[]
“Here’s something for gas money. Appreciate you making the trip.”
I’d already tapped out of this sick competition, and honestly, I thought seeing his mistress would send me into full psycho mode–hair pulling, face scratching, the whole nine yards.]
But looking at Chloe with her drugstore lipstick, cheap foundation, and baby face, I suddenly felt… nothing. Just tired.]
There are plenty of fish in the sea. She could have this cheating piece of shit.
Chloe looked genuinely shocked, like she’d expected some dramatic showdown.
Her eyes zeroed in on the twenty in my hand, and her whole expression twisted into something ugly.
Then she snatched the bill and hurled it right at my face:]
“What the hell is this supposed to mean?! Twenty bucks?! You calling me a hooker?!“]
That did it. So I slapped her so hard my palm stung:
“Don’t insult hookers like that. At least they’re honest about what they want just money, no strings attached. You’re way worse!”
“You can have him. But if you ever show up here acting like a psycho again, I won’t be nearly this nice!“]
She clutched her cheek, eyes blazing with pure hatred:]
“You’re gonna regret this!”
