Rejected By My Ex, Desired By His Father

"So six years was too much for you now? You got tired of me, Mr. Newman?"

At the accusation, Brandon Newman only swirled the wine in his glass, almost completely unfazed.

"Joslyn, over the past six years, I gave you everything I could. I paid for your education overseas. I showed you the world. I gave you a good life. Can't we end this peacefully and leave each other some dignity?"

The woman seated across from Brandon was stunning enough to draw anyone's attention. She had long hair, red lips, and sharp, striking features. No one could look away from a beauty like her.

At that moment, her eyes lifted slightly, the chill beneath them making her seem even more distant and untouchable. She was Joslyn Clark, Brandon's girlfriend for the past six years.

A trace of mockery entered her voice. "You were the one who said you'd never marry anyone but me. You were the one who proposed in front of everyone at graduation. And now you're talking about ending things peacefully? What was the point of all those promises?"

Brandon's body stiffened, and for the first time, real pain showed on his face. "A family like the Newman family cares about status. My adoptive father would never allow someone from your background to marry into our family."

Back when he had pursued her, he swore status and family background would never matter between them. Now, those same things had become the reason he was leaving her.

"Joslyn, what we had was real. Let's just leave it in the past, alright? I'll transfer the riverfront apartment in the western district to your name, and I'll give you another five million dollars. Take the money and live well. If you ever need help, you can still call me."

Joslyn leaned back in her chair and listened to his detached voice while a dull ache slowly spread through her chest.

From nineteen to twenty-five, she had spent every year of her youth with him.

She'd believed six years together would earn her at least a little sincerity. In the end, she'd simply trusted the wrong man.

"So this has nothing to do with your adoptive father. Clare Simpson came back, didn't she? You told me you'd never lie to me, Brandon. And now you can't even tell me the real reason you're leaving."

Brandon's expression changed again and again before he finally gave up trying to hide it.

"I'm sorry, Joslyn. Clare had her reasons for leaving back then. Now that she's returned, I can't fail her again."

Joslyn wanted to laugh. At how foolish she'd been. At Brandon's hypocrisy. But the pain pressing against her chest swallowed every other emotion.

"I don't want the apartment. Give me the equivalent amount of money instead. The five-million breakup settlement plus the property's market value should add up to at least tens of millions, right? I want twenty-five million dollars. Transfer it before noon tomorrow. If the money isn't in my account by twelve, I'll send every chat log from the past six years straight to the tabloids."

Brandon immediately reached for her wrist. "Joslyn, it doesn't have to come to this. If you needed money, you could've told me. I would've given it to you."

Joslyn pulled her hand away and put on her coat. "Twenty-five million to protect your image as the devoted man who stayed loyal to his first love all these years? That's a pretty cheap deal. Believe me, you're getting the better end of it."

Brandon stood where he was and watched her walk away. For a split second, an odd emptiness settled in his chest.

Still, he quickly brushed the feeling aside. She was only a woman who had stayed beside him for six years. If she wanted to leave, then so be it.

Clare had finally returned, and the misunderstanding between them was over. He had waited years for her. He couldn't lose her again.

As for Joslyn, after six years with him, the money he gave her would be enough for her to live comfortably for the rest of her life.

In his eyes, he had already done more than enough.

After leaving the restaurant, Joslyn wandered slowly along the riverside. She had always been proud to the bone. The tears she'd forced herself to hold back finally slipped down her face.

It was six years, not six days. It was almost the whole of her youth, torn away in the span of one conversation. How could she not feel shattered?

Her phone buzzed with a bank notification soon after. Twenty-five million dollars. Every cent had been transferred. Joslyn lowered her phone, wiped the tears from her face, and looked toward the glittering skyline across the river.

Dafson's night view was dazzling, filled with endless lights and towering glass buildings. This was the city she had fought so hard to become part of.

Six years ago, she had fought her way out of a small rural town and earned a spot at the prestigious Dafson University. Her parents' reaction back then had been painfully straightforward. "What's the point of a girl studying so much? You should get married while you're still young. Your brother's about to enter his senior year in high school, and his tutoring fees cost a fortune. We're already struggling, so figure it out yourself."

She didn't cry, and she didn't argue. She quietly left home, applied for student loans, and worked three part-time jobs just to get by.

A few months after classes began, she met Brandon during a debate competition.

He was wealthy, attractive, and born into privilege. After seeing her once, he started pursuing her relentlessly. Flowers, expensive gifts, luxury cars waiting outside campus, endless care and attention. Everyone around them envied her.

At first, Joslyn felt overwhelmed by it all. But she understood the situation soon enough. She wanted to climb higher. She wanted wealth, status, and influence. She wanted to establish herself in this city and never be looked down on again.

Brandon had money, power, and looks. More importantly, he treated her well.

Why wouldn't she accept him?

For six years, Brandon brought her into a world she never could've reached on her own. She had seen what life looked like at the top.

But there was one thing she had always understood clearly. Everything she possessed came from the title of being "Brandon's girlfriend."

The moment she lost that identity, she would go back to being nobody.

That was why she had fought so hard for scholarships, built her social media accounts from the ground up, and forced her way into one of the top architectural design firms after graduation. Most nights, she worked until past midnight.

Just as Joslyn slipped her phone back into her pocket, another message arrived.

"Joslyn, it's Mom. Your brother's getting married. The girl's family wants him to buy a house in Dafson. We really can't come up with that kind of money. You've done well for yourself in Dafson, and you probably know plenty of rich people by now. Can you help your brother?"

Joslyn was already exhausted. Without a trace of emotion, she blocked the number, deleted the conversation, and kept walking until she turned into a quiet side street.

This was Dafson's old district. Towering sycamore trees lined both sides of the road, and dim amber streetlights cast faint pools of light across the pavement.

Using the money she'd earned from content creation, along with some financial help from Brandon, she had bought a small apartment here.

Two figures stood anxiously outside the apartment building, glancing around every few seconds. A man and a woman.

The moment Joslyn recognized them, her heart dropped. The couple waiting downstairs were her parents. The same parents who had cut ties with her for six whole years.

It was as if every disaster in the world had decided to descend on her tonight.

"Joslyn!" Her mother, Beverly Clark, spotted her immediately and hurried over to grab her arm. "You're finally back! I've been calling you over and over. Why weren't you answering?"

Joslyn's father, Vince Clark, hurried over as well, rubbing his hands together as he forced out an awkward smile. "Joslyn, we know we treated you badly before, but we're still family. Families can't stay angry forever, right? Your brother really can't postpone this wedding anymore. The girl's pregnant, and if they don't get married soon, her family might call off the engagement..."

Joslyn pulled her arm free from Beverly's grip and stepped back, her gaze turning cold. "Weren't you the ones who said it was better to pretend you'd never had a daughter like me? So what gives you the right to come asking me for money now?"

"Oh, we only said those things because we were angry back then!" Beverly hurriedly wiped away her tears. "You're my daughter. How could a mother stop loving her own child? Joslyn, I know you've done well for yourself in Dafson. Please, just help your brother this once. I'm begging you..."

"I don't have any money," Joslyn interrupted coldly. "I'm just an ordinary office worker. My salary barely covers my rent and living expenses each month."

"Who are you trying to fool?" Vince suddenly snapped, his voice rising. "I've already asked around. Your boyfriend is from the Newman family-the richest family in Dafson. Just a little money from him would be enough to buy your brother a house!"

Joslyn almost laughed from anger. "For six years, you never cared whether I was dead or alive. The moment you heard I was dating someone rich, you rushed over to squeeze money out of me. You've really thought this through."

"Watch your attitude!" Vince's face turned red with rage. "We raised you all those years, and this is how you repay us? You ungrateful girl. You've got money to spend on yourself, but you won't help your own family? Do you even have a conscience?"

Beverly broke down crying as well. "Joslyn, please. Just help your brother this once. If he can't get married, I won't be able to keep living either..."

"I said I don't have any money, so stop wasting your time." Joslyn shoved past them and walked straight into the building.

As she walked into the apartment building, Joslyn said coldly, "If you keep following me around, I'll call the police."

The stairwell door slammed shut behind her, but Beverly's sharp voice still carried through it. "Joslyn, you ungrateful little bitch! Sooner or later, karma's going to come for you!"

Joslyn slowly closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

No. If anyone was going to face karma, it would be them.

After returning to her apartment, she kicked off her heels, dropped onto the couch, and let out an exhausted sigh.

She couldn't keep living here anymore. Otherwise, that couple would continue showing up and causing trouble without end. A dull headache throbbed behind her eyes as exhaustion and frustration twisted together.

Just then, her phone rang again. An unfamiliar local number flashed across the screen.

"Hello?"

"Miss Clark, hello. This is Connor Newman. If you have time, I'd like to meet with you."

Connor Newman was the real power behind the Newman family, a legendary figure in Dafson's business world, and Brandon's adoptive father.

Why would someone like him want to see her?

Connor was only ten years older than Brandon. Even though he was adopted, Brandon was a Newman by blood from the very beginning. Joslyn had never fully understood the details behind their relationship.

She remembered how Brandon used to describe Connor. Cold and ruthless. Emotionless. So distant that people were afraid to approach him. A man who never bent the rules and never showed mercy when handling matters.

Someone like him wasn't a person she could afford to offend. She didn't even feel like she had the right to refuse.

They met at a private club. Connor sat by the window in a dark gray suit, every button fastened neatly without the slightest wrinkle.

He looked younger than he did in magazines, yet somehow even more intimidating in person. His features were sharp and refined, his jawline clean and elegant, and a pair of rimless glasses rested across the bridge of his nose. "Miss Clark, please sit."

Joslyn sat across from him. After steadying herself, she finally asked, "What did you want to see me about, Mr. Newman?"

"You broke up with Brandon."

Joslyn lifted an eyebrow. She had already guessed why Connor wanted to meet her. Like most wealthy parents, he was probably here to clean up his adopted son's situation and make sure she wouldn't keep clinging to Brandon afterward.

"Yes. If you're worried I'll keep bothering Brandon, you don't have to be. We've already settled everything between us, and there won't be any contact after this."

Connor watched her silently, his dark eyes impossible to read. "Miss Clark, I'm not here because of him. I have a proposal for you. Marry me."

For a moment, Joslyn honestly thought she'd heard him wrong. "Mr. Newman, that's not funny."

Connor calmly took out a document and slid it across the table. "I'm serious. This is a draft of the marriage agreement. You can look it over."

Joslyn's thoughts immediately spiraled.

Connor Newman was the true power behind the Newman family. A billionaire. Thirty-five years old. Unmarried. The unreachable man countless people in Dafson dreamed of getting close to.

And now he was asking her to marry him? A woman his adopted son had just abandoned?

"Why?" she asked softly.

Connor leaned back slightly in his chair. "I need a wife. My mother has been pressuring me constantly, and you're a suitable choice. You're intelligent, attractive, highly educated, and your professional record is excellent. More importantly, I'm interested in you. I admire how rational and ambitious you are. You know exactly how to use the resources around you to your advantage. The fact that you managed to walk away from a breakup with twenty-five million dollars willingly handed over by your ex already proves you're qualified to become my wife."

Joslyn's heart slammed hard against her chest.

Connor knew everything. He knew her relationship with Brandon had never been built on love alone. He knew how ambitious and pragmatic she was. He even knew about the enormous breakup settlement she'd demanded.

Connor continued in the same calm tone, "Marry me, and you'll have everything you want. Money. Resources. Status. Even the chance to get back at Brandon. In return, I'll gain a suitable wife, and my mother will finally stop worrying about my marriage."

"Is there a time limit to this marriage?" Joslyn asked.

"No," Connor answered without the slightest pause. "The Newman family has never been the one to initiate a divorce. Unless you insist on ending the marriage yourself, it won't happen."

"And what if we can't get along?"

Connor met her eyes calmly. "Then we'll learn how to adapt to each other. As long as you fulfill your role as Mrs. Newman and don't cross my boundaries, you'll receive the respect and support you deserve. As for feelings, those can come with time."

Joslyn stayed silent for a moment before asking carefully, "What exactly does being your wife involve?"

"In public, you'll cooperate with me as my wife. You'll attend social events with me and handle interactions with the Newman family's relatives." Connor paused briefly before continuing, "And there will be a normal married life between us. I'm a healthy man with normal physical needs. Before marriage, I can control myself or deal with it privately, but after marriage, I don't see a reason to continue doing that. I have no interest in a sexless marriage."

"But you're thirty-five, and I'm twenty-five. There's a ten-year age gap between us." Joslyn was trying to remind him that a gap like that could easily make two people incompatible.

One of Connor's brows lifted slightly. "So you're worried I'm too old to satisfy you?"

Joslyn instantly lost her voice. How had he managed to twist an ordinary conversation into something so embarrassing?

Connor watched the faint blush spread across her face, and something darker flickered through his gaze.

"My work keeps me busy, and I travel often for business, so I won't be home much. You'll have complete freedom to live however you want. On top of that, I'll transfer ten million dollars into your account every month, and all of Newman Group's resources will be available to you. You can continue working as an architect, or you can start your own studio. That's entirely up to you."

How could Joslyn not feel tempted? Any ordinary person would've been overwhelmed by terms like these, even if the entire situation sounded absurdly close to some elaborate scam.

"I need some time to think about it," she said.

Connor stood up from his seat. "That's alright. My flight leaves tomorrow night, and I'll be gone for a week. Hopefully, I'll have your answer when I come back."

He walked to the door, and then suddenly paused and turned to look at her again.

"Joslyn, anything Brandon could give you, I can give you ten times over. And the things he could never give you, I can give you those as well. I hope you'll think about it seriously."

After he left, Joslyn opened the document on the table and read through it page by page. The terms were straightforward, and the conditions were generous to the point of being unbelievable. Ten million dollars transferred to her account every month. Full access to Newman Group's resources. Support for opening her own independent studio.

All she had to do was fulfill her responsibilities as Connor's wife.

Joslyn slowly closed the file and turned to look out the window.

The night had already deepened. Neon lights shimmered across the river like a dream, bright and dazzling enough to pull people in without escape.

As long as she signed this agreement, she could completely cut ties with her past. She could gain financial freedom, step across the invisible line separating social classes, and finally stand at the very top of Dafson.

But the cost was marrying a man ten years older than her. A man she barely knew. A man who was her ex-boyfriend's adoptive father.

This was never going to be an equal relationship. Their differences in status, power, and life experience were far too great.

Was it really worth it?

Joslyn thought about her parents downstairs earlier that day, their greedy faces twisted with desperation.

She thought about Brandon sitting across from her in the restaurant, speaking to her as if he were generously handing charity to someone beneath him.

She thought about the last six years, about living cautiously every single day while trying so hard to marry into the Newman family.

She thought about all those nights working overtime until she fell asleep at her desk, only to realize she still couldn't cross the gap between classes no matter how hard she struggled.

She was exhausted. Tired of relying on other people's approval. Tired of carefully watching everyone's expressions. Tired of being weighed, judged, and abandoned the moment she no longer met their expectations.

Joslyn slowly picked up the pen. The tip hovered above the paper as she hesitated one last time.

Was she really going to sign it?

A week later, Connor and Joslyn met at the courthouse.

The entire process went by quickly.

By the time they had gotten married, Joslyn was still in a daze.

Connor's voice came from beside her. "Let's go to your apartment and move your things."

Only then did it truly hit Joslyn. She was married to Connor now. From this day on, they would live together as husband and wife, sharing the closest kind of relationship possible, yet she barely knew anything about him.

Where he lived. What habits he had. What he liked or disliked. She knew none of it.

The driver remained silent throughout the ride. Joslyn and Connor sat in the back seat with about an arm's length of space between them.

"This is Damien Stevens, one of my assistants." Connor motioned toward the man sitting in the passenger seat. "If you ever need anything, you can contact him directly."

Damien turned slightly and gave her a polite nod. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Newman."

Joslyn answered awkwardly, still uneasy hearing the title.

Her apartment was inside a renovated old building. The three-story building had ivy spreading across the outer walls.

"I live on the third floor," Joslyn said as she stepped out of the car.

Connor got out after her and told Damien to wait downstairs.

The hallway was narrow, and the motion sensor lights blinked on one after another as they walked. Joslyn took out her keys and unlocked the door, painfully aware that Connor stood only half a step behind her.

The cool cedarwood scent around him lingered close.

The moment the door opened, the small studio apartment came into view. The space felt warm and carefully arranged. An off-white sofa sat beside natural wood bookshelves, while watercolor paintings and architectural sketches decorated the walls.

Past the south-facing floor-to-ceiling windows was a tiny balcony where freshly washed clothes hung drying in the breeze, along with several pieces of lace lingerie.

Joslyn's face burned red at once.

She rushed over to pull the drying rack inside, but Connor caught her wrist gently before she could move it.

"I'll do it."

Connor reached up and started taking the clothes down. His long fingers moved carefully as he removed each delicate piece from the rack.

Lingerie, sleepwear, one after another, all neatly folded into the woven basket beside him.

"Actually... I can handle it myself," Joslyn said quietly.

Connor didn't even look up. "Isn't helping his wife with things like this part of a husband's job?"

He said it so naturally that Joslyn suddenly became aware of how fast her heart was beating.

After finishing up on the balcony, Connor slowly looked around the small apartment. His eyes moved across the bookshelves, lingered briefly on the unfinished sketches spread across her worktable, and then stopped at the armrest of the sofa.

A scarf had been tossed there carelessly. It was a classic men's style.

Connor walked over and picked it up. "His?"

Joslyn was sorting through the books on the table when she looked over. "Yeah. Brandon's."

Connor folded the scarf neatly in half, walked to the trash can, and dropped it inside.

The scarf landed cleanly in the bin.

He turned back toward her. "Mrs. Newman, you shouldn't keep things that belong to your ex."

He wasn't wrong, and Joslyn knew that, but something inside her still tightened unexpectedly.

It wasn't because she still loved Brandon. It was because those six years, good or bad, had been part of her life.

Connor seemed to catch the change in her expression and walked closer. "Still can't move on?"

"It's not like that." Joslyn shook her head. "I just suddenly feel stupid."

"What's stupid about it?"

"I really thought love was enough to cross the gap between social classes." Joslyn let out a quiet laugh at herself. "I stayed beside the man who wore that scarf and believed it'd all work out somehow. Turns out I was just fooling myself."

She turned away from him and kept packing.

Clothes, books, painting supplies, cosmetics...

She didn't own much, and before long, everything had been packed into two suitcases and one cardboard box.

Connor rolled up his sleeves, grabbed the heavier suitcase from her, and lifted the cardboard box with his other hand. "You don't need to carry anything. I'll come back for the rest."

Joslyn wanted to tell him she could manage on her own, but Connor had already walked out with the luggage.

Before today, this man had been someone far beyond her reach. He was the powerful head of the Newman family, a figure people only talked about from a distance. Yet now, he was somehow both her husband and the one helping her move.

By the time they got downstairs, Damien had already opened the trunk. Connor placed the luggage inside before turning back to Joslyn. "Aside from the last suitcase upstairs, is there anything else left?"

Joslyn suddenly remembered the bathroom. "There are still some clothes in the bathroom. Bathrooms get damp easily, and if they stay too long, they'll probably grow mold. I plan to sell this apartment later, and cleaning mold would be troublesome."

The humid southern climate was well known for that kind of problem. Clothes left in damp places too long could grow mold, and sometimes even mushrooms.

"I'll get them." Connor turned and headed back upstairs.

Joslyn instinctively moved to follow him, but Damien stopped her politely. "Mrs. Newman, please get in the car first. Mr. Newman can handle it."

Connor pushed open the bathroom door. The space was small, but everything inside was spotless and neatly arranged.

An electric toothbrush and skincare products sat beside the sink, all clearly belonging to a woman. A lavender towel hung beside the mirror with several pieces of clothing draped nearby.

His eyes moved calmly across the room before stopping at the shelf in the corner.

A man's dress shirt.

Connor's gaze darkened slightly.

Even though he knew Joslyn and Brandon had never lived together, seeing another man's clothes inside her private space still felt strangely irritating, like something sharp pressing slowly into his chest.

Without a word, Connor grabbed the shirt in one hand, crumpled it up, and tossed it into the trash can where the scarf was.

He turned on the faucet and washed his hands. Cold water ran over his fingers, but it did nothing to cool the irritation buried beneath his calm expression.

Joslyn and Brandon's history was real. Connor had known that for six years.

But hearing about it and seeing traces of it with his own eyes were two completely different things. He'd already waited long enough.

When he returned to the car, Joslyn immediately noticed the change in his mood.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Connor kept his eyes forward. "Nothing."

But it was obvious something was bothering him.

Joslyn thought about it for a second before realization suddenly hit her. "Did you see something upstairs?"

Connor said nothing, which was answer enough.

Joslyn's chest tightened at once. What had he seen in the bathroom? Then she remembered. The shirt.

Brandon had come by last week before an important meeting after spilling coffee on himself.

Her apartment was close to his company, so he'd stopped by to shower and change clothes.

Joslyn explained quietly, "It was just an accident. He spilled coffee on his shirt and came over to change. He forgot to take it with him afterward..."

Connor's voice turned colder. "You don't have to explain anything. I'm not interested in whatever happened between you and him."

But the tight line of his lips and the slight crease between his brows made it obvious he meant the exact opposite. He was upset.

A strange feeling slowly stirred in Joslyn's chest.

But why?

"Mr. Newman," Joslyn called softly.

"Hm?"

"Are you upset?"

Connor finally looked at her. "No."

"You are," she said firmly.

Connor looked away again. "If a husband finds another man's things in his wife's apartment and realizes that man once stayed there overnight, it'd be stranger if he felt nothing."

Joslyn paused for a moment before speaking quietly. "What Brandon and I had was real, but we've never spent the night together. Not even once."

For six years, Brandon had stayed loyal to Clare in his own way. He and Joslyn had hugged and kissed, but they'd never crossed that line.

"I know." Connor looked back at her.

But knowing didn't mean he could ignore how he felt.

Joslyn didn't know what to say after that. What exactly did he even know?

The car entered Laurel Mansion and eventually stopped in front of a villa by the lake.

With landscaped gardens and a private swimming pool, the massive residence looked exactly like the kind of luxury estate Joslyn had only imagined before.

"Do you usually live here?" Joslyn asked.

Connor led her inside. "I'm away on business most of the year, so I rarely stay in Dafson. But now that we're married, I'll come back more often."

Joslyn's heart skipped unexpectedly.

More often? Then that meant...

As though he'd read her mind, Connor said calmly, "Your room is on the second floor, right beside mine. Don't worry. Until you're ready, I won't force anything between us."