Chapter 4

The man who emerged from the limousine was undeniably handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, with perfectly coiffed dark hair and eyes that held a certain arrogant charm. He was the kind of man who commanded attention, even if, to me, his presence felt like a tightening noose. A part of me, the part that still remembered the naive girl who once hoped for a genuine connection, felt a pang of something akin to regret. He was so aesthetically pleasing, his expensive suit perfectly tailored to his athletic frame.

"Chadwick!" Isa shrieked, her voice hoarse, scrambling to her feet and limping towards him, her face a mask of tears and indignation. She threw herself into his arms, clinging to him like a terrified child. "She attacked me! She stole my purchase! She' s crazy, Chadwick, you have to do something!"

Chadwick' s eyes, a steely blue, found mine. They were cold, devoid of any warmth. My heart sank, the brief flicker of regret extinguished by the familiar chill radiating from him. He couldn't possibly be that oblivious, could he?

I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself. Despite everything, I still held onto a sliver of hope, a desperate wish that he would at least acknowledge our shared history, our families' intertwined futures. "Chadwick," I said, my voice as calm as I could make it. "It's Kelsey. Your fiancée. There's been a misunderstanding."

A small part of me, a very foolish part, even felt a fleeting sense of satisfaction. My mother had chosen him, after all, and if she, with her impeccable taste and ruthless business acumen, had deemed him worthy, perhaps there was something there I had overlooked. He was good-looking, yes, and charismatic. Maybe he was a good strategic match for our families, despite his flaws.

A wave of whispers rippled through the onlookers. "Fiancée?" someone breathed. "Steele's fiancée? I thought that was Isa Jordan!"

"No, no, that' s Kelsey Black, Frederica Mooney' s daughter," another voice corrected, lower, laden with awe. "The Nexus heiress. But Isa... Isa is always with Chadwick."

"Which one is it, then?" a third person muttered. "It all depends on who Chadwick chooses to stand by, doesn' t it? That' s where the real power lies."

Chadwick' s gaze hardened. He gently, but firmly, pushed Isa slightly behind him, though his arm remained protectively around her waist. He stepped forward, his eyes fixed on me, and then he spoke, his voice chillingly devoid of emotion. "My fiancée?" He scoffed, a short, bitter sound. "I have no fiancée. Not anymore. And certainly not you."

The words were a physical blow, worse than any punch. They stole the air from my lungs.

"This... arrangement," he continued, his voice dripping with disdain, "was forced upon me by my father. A relic of an outdated era. I never agreed to it. And I certainly never agreed to marry someone so... utterly unsuited for me."

Isa, emboldened by his words, snuggled closer to his side, her head resting on his shoulder. She looked at me, a triumphant, venomous gleam in her eyes, a silent declaration of victory. Then she spoke, her voice still a little shaky, but full of renewed malice. "Honestly, Chadwick, just look at her. Those clothes, that hair... She looks like she just rolled out of bed, not like someone who belongs by your side. She' s an embarrassment."

A chorus of agreement, soft but clear, rose from the crowd. "She really doesn' t look the part." "Isa always looks so glamorous, so put-together." "No wonder he chose Isa. Look at the difference."

Their words, their judgment, felt like stones thrown at my face. I looked down at my simple, comfortable outfit. It was me. It was functional. It allowed me to work, to think, to create without distraction. Why did they see it as a flaw, a sign of inferiority? Why did my worth suddenly depend on the cut of my dress or the brand of my shoes?

But the sting of their words was nothing compared to the cold, hard realization that settled in my gut. He never saw me. He never would. The arranged engagement, the facade, it was all hollow. My heart, which had been clinging to a fragile hope, finally fractured.

I looked at Chadwick, at Isa, at the judging faces in the crowd. A sudden, fierce clarity washed over me. This was it. The public humiliation, the outright dismissal, the betrayal. It was the breaking point.

"Fine," I said, my voice surprisingly steady, even to myself. I pulled a small, delicate ring from my finger-a simple silver band, a placeholder for a diamond that had never materialized. I held it out, letting it drop to the floor, where it glinted dully on the polished marble. "Consider it done, Chadwick. Our engagement, our families' merger, everything. It' s over. And honestly? You' re not even worth the regret."

My gaze swept over them one last time, a cold, dismissive flicker in my eyes. The fight was far from over, but the terms had just changed.