Dumped at My Own Engagement, I Became the Heiress He Could Never Reach

At the engagement banquet, during the exchange of tokens, Laurence Morton did it right in front of everyone.

He placed the Morton family heirloom jade pendantthe one that was supposed to belong to the bridearound his assistant Camille Harding's neck.

The guests exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes drifting toward me with pity.

Laurence pinched Camille's cheek, his tone careless and indulgent.

"It's not like you could produce anything of equal value anyway. Let's just skip this part."

"The poor girl's been having nightmares lately. The pendant will keep her safe and bring her peace."

"And stop making that miserable face. I'm already marrying you. What more could you possibly want? Don't be greedy."

Camille clung to his arm, beaming with satisfaction.

The Morton family pendants were traditionally a matched pairone for husband, one for wife.

The spotlight fell on my bare neck like a slap across the face.

I smiled, then burned the share-transfer deed I'd prepared as my gift to him, right there on the spot.

"You're right. I shouldn't be greedy."

"So your fianc? I'll throw him in as a gift for her too."

Silence swallowed the room. The only sound was paper curling in the flames.

Laurence's brow darkened with displeasure.

"Gillian Wiley, it's just a pendant. Do you really have to be this petty?"

"Stop making a scene. Finish the ceremony like a good girl, and I'll pretend you didn't just run your mouth. I'll forgive you."

I looked at himthat lofty expression, those eyes dripping with condescension, as if everything he offered was charity.

Revulsion coiled in my gut. I wrenched my hand free of his.

"Does Mr. Morton not understand plain English?"

"Then let me spell it out. The engagement is off. We're done."

The air pulled taut.

Camille walked over with a smile, playing peacemaker.

"Gillian, he's just worried about my health. Don't blame him."

She pressed something into my hand, forcing my fingers around it.

"Hereas compensation. I had someone make a matching one just for you."

"But I'm not like you, living off a man's wallet. Real jade was too expensive for me, so I had to make do with a beer bottle. I hope you won't mind."

I'd coordinated my gown with Laurence's suit for todaymatching colors, as couples do at their engagement.

The joke was that Camille's gown was identical to mine.

The day I'd ordered it, only Laurence and I had been there.

He must have told her. He must have gone out and bought her the exact same one.

Now the two of them stood side by side in their matching outfits, wearing the paired heirloom pendants that symbolized husband and wife, looking for all the world like the real couple of the evening.

And I was the fool.

I seized the red cord around Camille's neck and yanked her toward me, my voice cold as a blade.

"Rotten men don't interest me, Camille. Never have. If you enjoy picking through the garbage, he's all yours."

"But you had the nerve to provoke me to my face. So I think I'll take my payback now. How about I use this little 'compensation' of yours to carve a line across that pretty cheek?"

The edges of the beer-bottle knockoff were razor-sharp. One careless touch could slice skin.

Scheming down to the last detail.

Camille's face drained of color. Her eyes glistened, and she turned to Laurence with a trembling lip.

"Laurence, look at her... I'm so scared..."

Pain shot through my wrist, forcing me to let go.

Laurence pulled Camille behind him and shoved me back.

"Camille didn't say anything wrong. What gives you the right to touch her? I skipped the token exchange to save YOUR face!"

"The Morton heirloom pendant is worth a fortune. You're a freeloadera parasite who can't survive without me. What could you possibly offer in return? Learn to be grateful!"

"And don't think I don't know what you burned. Those scraps of paper were your little wish list, weren't they? Your demands for the wedding gifts? What's the mattereven you realized how greedy it looked, so you were too embarrassed to let anyone see?"

Even though I'd already decided to end things, hearing those words still felt like a wad of cotton had been shoved into my chest.

Suffocating. Unbearable.

Laurence didn't like me showing my face in public, and he refused to eat out. So I'd willingly become the woman behind the curtain, content to stay in his shadow.

Four years of genuine devotion, and in his eyes, I was nothing but a gold-digging parasite.

He had no idea that those papers weren't some bridal gift checklist.

They were share-transfer documents worth over a hundred million dollars.

I looked at him steadily.

"Laurence, you know exactly what that jade pendant represents. It marks the matriarch of the Morton family."

"And you gave it to Camille. What does that make me?"

Laurence let out a derisive laugh, one brow arching high.

"Camille is an outstanding professional and my right hand at the company. She deserves it."

"You're deadweight. A woman who can't survive without a man to bankroll her. The fact that I agreed to this engagement at all was already more than you deserved."

"Gillian, I'm telling you to quit while you're ahead. Walk through the motions like a good girl. If you want a jade pendant so badly, I'll pick one up at an antique auction for you later. But if you keep throwing tantrums, don't blame me when I cut you loose for real."

He still didn't understand.

It was never about the object. It was about what it meant.

Or maybe, in his mind, my feelings had never mattered to begin with.

"Is that so? Be my guest."

I said it calmly, then turned to leave.

But several bodyguards blocked my path at the door, forming a wall across the exit.

Laurence drained the last of his red wine, his tone lazy and unhurried.

"Gillian, since you insist on breaking things off, shouldn't you return what's mine first?"

"Don't forget. That gown you're wearing? I paid for it."

His gaze carried a chill.

"So take it off."

I froze.

I'd come straight here in the gown. I hadn't brought a change of clothes.

And Laurence knew that.

Looking at that familiar face, a bitter laugh almost escaped me. I must have been truly blind back then, falling for someone like him.

One of the guests couldn't bear it any longer and spoke up. "Mr. Morton, there are so many people here. Miss Wiley is still a lady. Surely you could leave her some dignity."

Laurence crossed one leg over the other, unmoved.

"That's exactly the problem. I gave her too much face in the past, and it only made her more willful. It's time she learned to behave."

"Gillian, if you don't want to strip, just say you were wrong. Promise you'll stop making things difficult for Camille, and the engagement banquet can continue."

Camille perched herself on his lap, covering her mouth with a coy giggle.

"Gilly, he's already giving you a way out. Why be so stubborn?"

"Don't worry, nobody here will judge you for going back on your word. After all, we've all seen plenty of women like you."

Laurence gave her waist an affectionate squeeze, clearly pleased with how she'd put me in my place.

The gawking stares of the crowd scorched me like open flame.

Shame surged through my chest, thick and scalding.

This was exactly what Laurence wanted.

He wanted me to understand that I was nothing more than a plaything tethered to him. He could grant me dignity, and he could crush it whenever he pleased.

Just as everyone expected me to cave, I pulled the gown off without a flicker of expression, lifted it, and tossed it into the trash can beside me.

I walked out of the hotel without looking back, ignoring the shock frozen in Laurence's eyes.

Outside, it had started to rain.

I thought about hailing a cab, but my phone was already dead. My ID was still back at the villa. All I could do was walk home through the downpour.

The thin camisole and shorts I'd had on underneath soaked through in seconds, clinging to my skin. Passersby turned to stare.

It was nearly eleven at night by the time I reached the villa. The streets were dead silent.

Three punks with bleached-blond hair had appeared behind me at some point. They whistled at me every few steps, and no matter what I did, I couldn't shake them.

Unease crawled up my spine. I broke into a run toward the house.

But when I reached the front door, I discovered the lock code had been changed.

The three of them stood under a tree a few yards away, leering at me with disgusting grins. Like they were watching a show. Like they were watching a meal, waiting to devour it whole.

Every hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I slammed the doorbell over and over, but no one answered.

Then a second-floor window flew open. Laurence appeared, shirtless.

He tossed my suitcase out the window without a second thought. The light caught the hickeys scattered across his neck, vivid and fresh.

"Gillian, I thought you were so full of pride? Then take your trash and get the hell out of my house."

"I've already frozen your cards. That pitiful balance in your bank account probably won't even cover half a month's rent."

I didn't have time for his contempt. Panic overrode everything else.

"Laurence, there are men following me. Can you at least let me inside first?"

"Or call the police for me. My phone's dead. They're right there under that tree. If you don't believe me, come down and look for yourself!"

Laurence froze. Instinctively, he turned.

"What? Don't be scared, I'll come down right"

A pair of pale, slender arms hooked around his elbow and pulled him back.

Camille stood there wearing my lace nightgown, smiling down at me with pure provocation.

"Oh, Gillian, this is an exclusive gated community. Without a resident's permission, security won't let strangers in."

"You publicly called off the engagement today and humiliated Mr. Morton. You won't even apologize, and now you're making up lies to manipulate him? Have you no shame at all?"

"Mr. Morton, if you don't teach her a lesson this time, people will walk all over you."

Laurence's expression shifted. He looked down at me with open disgust.

"Gillian, I didn't realize you were this calculating. Tonight you can kneel out there and let the rain wash some sense into that head of yours."

"Tomorrow morning, I want to see you go live online, begging me to take you back."

"And rememberwithout me, you're nothing. A woman I've already used up isn't worth a damn thing anymore."

He shut the window without hesitation.

Behind the curtains, two silhouettes tangled together in shameless abandon.

My heart went cold, inch by inch.

The three punks grinned and started toward me, tongues dragging across their lips.

"Hey, sweetheart, your man's busy with his new girl. Can't even be bothered with you. Why humiliate yourself? Come play with us instead."

"Don't worry, we don't pay for it. A used-up piece like you isn't worth the money anyway. Ha ha ha ha..."

They clamped a hand over my mouth and dragged me toward a dark corner.

I thrashed and fought. Then someone came running out, wielding a stick.

It wasn't Laurence.

It was a middle-aged couple who also lived in the villa community. They'd just gotten back from out of town and had been sitting in their car talking when they witnessed the whole thing.

The three punks bolted the moment they realized they'd been seen. They were too fast to catch.

I picked up my suitcase and politely declined the couple's offer to let me stay at their place for the night. The woman insisted on giving me two outfits from when she was younger, then drove me to a nearby hotel.

Laurence really was ruthless. To force me into submission, he'd kept all the jewelry he'd ever given me.

Not that I cared. Things like that? I'd never been short of them.

I borrowed a charger from the front desk and made plans to fly home the next morning.

But on the way to the airport, the driver suddenly changed direction.

The man who'd gotten in partway through the ride was watching me like a hawk.

I reached for my phone to call the police, but the driver cut me off with a cold laugh.

"Miss Wiley, today is Assistant Harding's birthday. Mr. Morton arranged a lawn party for her at the manor, and youyou're the special gift he's prepared for her."

"Mr. Morton says if you behave yourself and keep Assistant Harding happy, he'll consider throwing you that engagement party after all."

He jerked his chin toward the hulking man beside me.

"Otherwise, we dump you right out the door. This is the highway. You won't even get the call connected before the next car turns you into roadkill."

"So sit tight if you want to live. A charity case surviving on Mr. Morton's scraps, and you actually thought you were the lady of the house?"

Only then did I realize I'd been tricked.

I couldn't figure out what Laurence was playing at.

But no matter what, I wasn't going to gamble with my life. I put my phone away in silence.

The manor had been decorated to perfectioneven more lavish than the engagement party had been.

Laurence had one arm around Camille's waist, laughing and clinking glasses with the guests who'd come to celebrate.

Matching jade pendants hung from both their necks.

Anyone who didn't know better would have thought this was their wedding.

When he spotted me, Laurence walked over, his gaze appraising.

"I heard you were trying to get to the airport. Where were you headed?"

My voice was calm. "Home. Is that a problem?"

Something smug flickered in his eyes.

"So you've finally figured it out. Without me, you can't survive in Pearl City. Your only option is crawling back to whatever backwater you came from to dig in the dirt."

"I'm not a heartless man. All you have to do is put this on and play Camille's little pet for the day. Then I'll let yesterday slide, and we'll have the wedding next week."

It was a wooden sign, roughly the size of a laptop screen.

Five words were carved into it in bold, unmistakable letters.

Camille's Dog.

I stared at him in disbelief.

"You want me to be Camille Harding's dog?"

"In your dreams. She could drop dead and still not deserve it!"

Laurence's face turned to ice.

"Today is Camille's birthday, and this is the one gift she wants most. I promised her that whatever she asked for, I'd deliver."

"Besides, you nearly hurt her yesterday. You owe her."

He pulled out a small resin pendant and held it up like a threat.

"You care so much about sentimental value, don't you?"

"If you don't cooperate, I'll burn it. Then you won't even have a memory left."

The pendant itself was worthless. But sealed inside the resin were strands of my mother's hair.

She had died in an explosion. There was nothing left of herno remains, no ashes.

Those few strands were all I'd managed to gather, one by one, from around the house.

I'd had them set in resin so it would feel like she was still with me.

Laurence made a show of swinging the pendant toward the barbecue pit beside him.

I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached, and forced the words out one by one.

"I'll do it."

The moment I hung the sign around my neck, laughter erupted from every direction. Phones shot up, cameras flashing.

Laurence smiled, satisfied.

"There we go. That's more like it. Rememberwhatever Camille tells you to do later, you do it. No hesitation."

"Relax. Keep her happy, and once the party's over, I'll give you back the pendant. And everything I promised? I'll follow through."

I lifted my head, my face completely blank.

"Can I use the restroom?"

Laurence didn't refuse, but he confiscated my phone.

He even posted two bodyguards outside the door, as if I might try to run.

But what he didn't know was that I no longer wanted to leave.

Because that would be letting him off too easy.

I shut the stall door and pressed a button on my watch.

After a crackle of static, a bright, wheedling voice came through from the other end.

"Sis! Didn't you say you were coming back to the Harbor District today?"

"I was worried you'd be tired, so I brought people to pick you up. Pretty thoughtful of your little brother, right? Where are you?"

I took a deep breath, keeping my voice level.

"I've been taken. He betrayed me. He's forcing me to be his mistress's pet."

"The Wiley family code: repay every kindness, avenge every wrong. I shouldn't have to tell you what to do."

A beat of silence.

When Graham Wiley spoke again, every trace of playfulness was gone. His voice was thick with barely restrained fury.

"Send me your location. I'm on my way. That piece of garbage is dead."

Laurence had his men escort me to Camille and spoke in a gentle tone.

"Camille, darling, today Gillian is your personal pet. You can make her do whatever you want."

"Aww, I just knew you were the sweetest to me!" Camille planted a happy kiss on his cheek.

Then her gaze dropped to the wooden sign hanging from my chest, and she burst out laughing.

"No wonder Gillian didn't like the beer-bottle sign from yesterday. Turns out she prefers this kind. A natural-born glutton for punishment."

"But I've never seen a dog stand in front of its owner before. Looks like I'll need to teach you some manners first."

The moment the words left her mouth, Laurence shot a look at his bodyguards.

They kicked the backs of my knees without warning.

The pain buckled my legs and I dropped to the floor with a dull thud. The entire room erupted in laughter.

I tried to stand, but heavy hands clamped down on my shoulders and held me in place.

Camille sauntered over, swaying her hips, and slapped my face twice.

"There we go. A dog should look like a dog."

"Good girl. Are you hungry? Your owner prepared a treat for you."

She had someone bring over the trash can from the dining table. Inside were chicken bones she had just gnawed clean and tossed away.

Along with the vomit of some guest who couldn't hold his liquor and had thrown up after half a glass.

Camille stared at me with a taunting look and leaned close to my ear, whispering.

"You little tramp. Weren't you so full of yourself? Too bad the one who's going to eat garbage now is you."

So this was her revenge for what I'd said yesterday.

I looked at Laurence, my voice calm.

"Is this what you want too?"

A flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes. He was about to speak.

But Camille pouted, looking wounded.

"Mr. Morton, I'm only trying to teach her to behave. So she won't throw jealous tantrums anymore, or threaten you with divorce every time she doesn't get her way after you're married."

"Besides, you're the one who promised to stand up for me. Was that all a lie? Fine then, forget it. I'll give you back the pendant, resign on the spot, and get out of your sight!"

Laurence pulled her into his arms, soothing her, then turned to me with a voice like a command.

"Gillian, don't forget what you just promised me. You don't want the pendant anymore?"

"Camille is doing this for your own good. What successful man doesn't have women on the side? As a wife, you need to learn to be gracious and tolerant. Consider this my test for you."

"Don't make the birthday girl upset. Be a good girl and eat, and I promise I won't hold it against you. After today, you'll be the one and only Mrs. Morton."

My fingers slowly curled into fists. I stared in silence at this man I had once given my whole heart to.

When the Morton ancestors left behind that pair of jade pendants, they had said:

In ordinary times, keep them close for protection. In desperate times, use them as the seed money for a comeback.

But generation after generation, no matter how bitter or hard life became, not a single person had ever sold them.

Laurence's ambitions had always been sky-high. He wanted to build his own empire, but he refused to sell off the family heirlooms to fund it.

I couldn't bear to watch him struggle, and I didn't want to wound his pride.

So I hid my real identity and invested in him in secret.

Every executive who owed me a favor, every connection I hadI funneled them all toward Laurence, quietly feeding him projects and contracts.

Over four years, his company grew bigger and bigger.

But before he'd even truly reached the top, he'd already learned to pamper his mistress and grind his wife into the dirt.

Fine. At least now I knew.

There was no reason to be soft-hearted anymore.

I didn't surrender. Instead, I whipped my head around and sank my teeth into Camille's wrist.

She'd leaned in close to savor my humiliation. She never saw it coming.

Camille screamed, shoving at my head with both hands, trying to wrench herself free.

By the time the bodyguards pried me off, the bite mark on her wrist was deep enough to show bone. She was sobbing, wailing.

"Mr. Morton, she's jealous that you gave me the pendant! She did this on purpose to get back at me!"

"You have to stand up for me, or I swear I won't go on living!"

Laurence was beside himself with rage. He drew back his foot and kicked me hard in the stomach.

I crumpled to the ground, every organ inside me feeling like it had been knocked out of place.

"Gillian, you never learn, do you? Fine. Since you don't appreciate the chance I gave you, Camille will take your place as Mrs. Morton. She's a thousand times more obedient and well-behaved than you ever were!"

"You like biting people? A dog that bites its master doesn't need teeth. Someone get over here and pull out every single one of hers!"

"No anesthesia. Let her remember this pain so she learns to stay in her lane as a mistress and never lays a hand on Camille again!"

A bodyguard fisted my hair and yanked my head back, forcing my face upward. My scalp screamed, then went numb.

Camille's face split into a triumphant grin. She mouthed the words at me: You lose.

Another bodyguard pried my jaw open. Cold steel pliers clamped down on one of my teeth.

Before they could pull, a deafening roar erupted overhead.

Ten helicopters appeared out of nowhere, hovering low, their rotors shaking the air.

Over a hundred bodyguards in black-and-gold uniforms, steel batons holstered at their hips, descended from rope ladders.

They fell into formation behind a man with a striking face and a look that could kill.

Camille stared, slack-jawed, then clapped her hands over her mouth in excitement.

"Mr. Morton! Did you hire a male model troupe to celebrate my birthday? This is incredible!"

I let a slow smile curl across my lips.

I hope you can still smile like that when they're grinding you into the dirt.