The Moment I Broke Off the Engagement, My Ex's Uncle Claimed Me

My grandmother died in a car accident. Ethan Griffin forced me to operate on his mistress, Tessa Langley's dog.

At the family banquet, he looked down on me like a king. "Kneel and apologize to Tessa," Ethan said coldly. "Then I might forgive you."

I, Nina Sterling, said nothing. In front of everyone, I lit the engagement contract and dropped the burning paper into a champagne glass, watching it curl into ashes.

Then I turned and walked toward the man sitting in the corner in a wheelchair, Adrian Griffin, the one the Griffin family treated like their greatest disgrace.

"Adrian," I said, bending slightly to meet his eyes. "Do you have the guts to gamble on this with me?"

Ethan exploded in rage and lunged toward me.

With a sharp click, the lighter in Adrian's hand snapped shut. He caught Ethan's wrist in a firm grip.

Adrian lifted those dark, brooding eyes and spoke to Ethan in a voice that cut through the room.

"Watch your manners. She's my wife."

......

Three floors beneath the funeral home, the temperature was kept at minus five degrees.

The air was thick with the stale, biting smell of formalin. Strong enough to drown out the salty taste of tears.

I stood in front of Autopsy Table No. 1, wearing two layers of latex gloves.

The cold surgical light shone down in a harsh white beam over the shattered face before me.

It was my grandmother, Rose Sterling.

The crash had been sudden. Her left orbital bone was shattered, and half her face had collapsed inward.

I was a surgeon. I had also trained in postmortem reconstruction.

I requested permission to restore her body myself. Maybe it was the sight of my swollen, bloodshot eyes. They agreed.

This final journey... I had to see her through it myself.

I held a curved silver suture needle between my fingers, my hands perfectly steady.

The needle pierced the cold, stiff skin with a soft, wet sound.

At that moment, the phone resting on the stainless-steel instrument tray began to vibrate.

My hands were dirty, so I had set the phone to answer automatically.

The explosion ripped through the silent morgue, the echo slamming against the walls.

I didn't look up. My gaze remained fixed on the wound at the corner of my grandmother's eye.

On the phone screen, the night sky over Aurora Harbor exploded with fireworks. Crimson, gold, green. A dazzling storm of color.

Thunderous cheers mixed with the roar of the sea. It was the world of the living.

"Nina." Ethan's voice came through the noise of the crowd, dripping with lazy arrogance. "Everyone's waiting for your toast. Where did you disappear to? Don't play hard to get. It's boring."

My hands didn't stop.

The silver needle carried the clear thread through flesh and skin. I tied the knot.

My grandmother's jaw was broken. Her lips wouldn't close properly, as if she still had something left unsaid.

"I'm stitching a body," I said quietly.

My throat felt like I had swallowed a handful of sand. My voice came out rough and hoarse.

There was a second of silence on the other end. Then a bright, playful laugh.

The camera shifted, and a carefully made-up face slipped into view, leaning against Ethan's shoulder.

"You're so funny, Nina," Tessa said with a hand over her mouth, her eyes curved like crescents. "It's New Year's. Talking about corpses is creepy."

Ethan frowned, a trace of disgust flashing in his eyes.

"To make me come back, you're even cursing your own grandmother?" He let out a mocking laugh and swirled the red wine in his glass. "Nina, you're getting more pathetic by the day. Get over here now. Tessa can't drink. You'll take the drinks for her."

Finally, my hands stopped.

Under the cold light, my grandmother's ashen face looked painfully bleak.

I looked at that familiar face, wanting to smooth the crease between her brows one last time. But my fingers were covered in blood.

"Ethan." I spoke his name into the air. "My grandmother is dead."

"Enough!" Ethan snapped impatiently. "You have thirty minutes to show up. Otherwise the wedding is off."

The call ended.

The screen went dark like a blind eye, reflecting my expressionless face.

The morgue fell silent again, except for the dull hum of the ventilation fan.

I lowered my head and picked up the sharp surgical scissors.

The suture thread was cut.

In that moment, something inside my chest snapped along with it.

Seven years of humiliating devotion to him. Gone with that single cut.

I pulled off the blood-stained gloves and tossed them into the yellow medical waste bin.

The next morning.

The memorial hall of the funeral home was empty. Only a few half-burned candles flickered in the draft.

I knelt on a cushion, arranging my grandmother's urn.

Yesterday she had been lying on the operating table. Today she had become a small wooden box.

Footsteps echoed from the doorway, leather shoes striking against marble.

I didn't turn around.

It wasn't Ethan. It was his assistant, Miles Carter.

Miles wore an expensive tailored suit. He pressed a checkered handkerchief tightly over his nose.

With a look of obvious disgust, he stepped around the funeral wreaths at the entrance as if avoiding a source of infection.

He stopped and looked down at me.

"Ms. Sterling." Miles's voice came out muffled behind the handkerchief. "Mr. Griffin asked me to see whether you're done making a scene."

I gently wiped the dust from the urn with a cloth and ignored him.

Miles clearly wasn't used to being ignored.

Frowning, he pulled a check from his suit pocket and slapped it down on the table.

The sharp sound echoed through the hall.

The check slammed onto the table, sending a faint sprinkle of ash drifting off.

"Mr. Griffin said his tone might have been a little harsh last night. But he was thinking about the bigger picture." Miles's tone was practiced, like this was routine. "Fill in whatever number you want. Buy yourself a nice bag, calm down, and stop throwing a tantrum."

My hand paused. My gaze fell on the thin piece of paper.

It was a blank check. Enough to buy half the funeral home.

To Ethan, this was the perfect way to deal with a pet.

When I didn't respond, Miles assumed I had accepted.

He let out a breath of relief, stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket, and relaxed.

"Oh, right. One more thing." He glanced at his watch. "Ms. Langley's poodle has a vocal cord issue. Its barking is too loud, so Mr. Griffin scheduled a vocal cord surgery. Three this afternoon. Mr. Griffin specifically asked for you to handle it. You're the best surgeon around. A small operation like that should be nothing for you. Don't be late."

Operate on a dog?

So this was Ethan's idea of a compromise.

Even while arranging a funeral, I was expected to show up on command and serve Tessa's dog.

I slowly rose to my feet.

After kneeling all night, my knees were stiff, cracking softly as I moved.

I slipped my hand into the pocket of my lab coat. My fingers brushed against cold metal.

"So you're saying I should operate on a dog?" I asked.

Miles nodded impatiently. "Yes. Ms. Langley cares about her dog. She's worried other doctors might not be steady enough. This is also Mr. Griffin giving you a chance to prove yourself..."

I pulled out the scalpel.

The blade flashed coldly.

Miles flinched and instinctively stepped back, knocking over a plate of red apples from the table.

They rolled across the floor with dull thuds.

Bright red apples scattered across the marble floor.

"W-What are you doing? This is a country governed by law!" Miles stared at the knife in my hand, his face ashen.

I didn't look at him. I simply placed the razor-sharp tip of the scalpel against the center of the check.

My wrist pressed down. The blade dragged across the paper.

The tearing sound was sharp and ugly.

The blade sliced through the check and cut deep into the wooden table.

The check, a symbol of the Griffin family's power and money, instantly became a pile of useless scraps. They fell across the dusted table like absurd snow.

I pulled the knife back and lifted my head. My eyes felt as empty as the abyss behind me.

"Go back and tell Ethan." I spoke each word slowly, my voice perfectly calm. "To me, he isn't even worth a speck of dust on this urn."

Miles stared at me as if I had lost my mind.

He opened his mouth, then thought better of it and hurried out in embarrassment.

The hall fell quiet again.

I turned to look at my grandmother's black-and-white portrait.

If he refused to let me live in peace, then no one would.

I took off my lab coat and pulled the black dress I had prepared from my bag.

Tonight was the Griffin family dinner.

The banquet hall doors were heavy, opening with a dull thud.

The light inside was painfully bright, stabbing at my eyes.

Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, and the champagne tower scattered fragments of golden light.

This was the Griffin family's stage for power and reputation. The air was thick with expensive perfume and hollow pleasantries.

Harrison Griffin sat at the head of the table, his face flushed with satisfaction.

Ethan stood beside him, lazily swirling half a glass of red wine. Tessa leaned against him like a boneless ornament.

The first thing I noticed was the ring on Tessa's hand.

It was a flawless emerald ring. My mother had left it for her future daughter-in-law. Now it sat on another woman's finger.

Wearing the black dress, I walked in.

Amid the glittering jewels and elegant gowns, I felt like an unwelcome ghost. Or a crow bringing bad news.

The gentle violin music stopped.

The surrounding conversations faded like a receding tide. Dozens of eyes turned toward me.

"How unlucky!" The sharp shout shattered the silence.

Elaine Griffin, Ethan's mother, shot up from her seat, waving a handkerchief in disgust. "Tonight is a family dinner. Who are you wearing funeral clothes for? Who are you trying to curse?"

I ignored her hysteria. My heels clicked against the marble floor as I walked straight to the main table.

Ethan looked at me with pure contempt in his eyes.

"So you finally decided to show up?" Ethan set down his wine glass and pointed to the empty floor beside Tessa. "Since you're here, show some manners. Apologize, and admit you were the one causing trouble last night. Then the engagement continues as planned."

Tessa hid behind him with a timid expression, but her eyes swept across my face in open provocation.

"Nina, don't make Ethan angry," Tessa said softly. "As long as you lower your head and apologize, I won't hold it against you."

I looked at them and felt nothing but absurdity.

I opened my black clutch. There was no makeup inside, no gift. Only a piece of paper.

The paper had yellowed with age, its edges worn and frayed.

Twenty years ago, my grandmother saved Ethan's grandfather, Edmund Griffin's life. He personally arranged this engagement.

For the past two years, it had been the chain around Ethan's neck.

I placed the engagement contract on the table.

"You want the engagement?" I asked.

Ethan sneered. "Now you're trying to threaten me with that? Too late. Unless you kneel right now-"

I picked up the silver candlestick from the table.

The flame flickered, reflected in my eyes.

Without hesitation, I held one corner of the contract to the flame.

"What are you doing?" Ethan's expression changed instantly.

The old dry paper caught fire immediately.

Flames curled upward, devouring the black ink.

The words that once represented promises and contracts twisted, blackened, and turned to ash in the heat.

The fire spread quickly, licking my fingertips, but I felt no pain.

"Nina! Have you lost your mind?"

Ethan reached out to grab it, but I stepped back.

The burning paper in my hand had already become a small fireball.

Gasps filled the room as I flicked my wrist and dropped the burning paper into the expensive champagne glass in front of Ethan.

The flame died instantly.

The clear golden champagne turned murky, filled with black ash and scraps of paper like a glass of spoiled water.

The last ember faded.

I brushed the ash from my hands and looked at Ethan's darkened face.

"I'm the one ending this engagement."