The Billionaire's Discarded Bride Was Never His to Keep

The night before the wedding, my best friend Faith Curry suddenly dropped to her knees in front of me and begged.

Tracey, I'm begging you. Give Harold Gilbert to me.

I'm bound to a system. If I can't win him over, I'll die.

I won't come between the two of you. All I'm asking is for you to give me the place of Mrs. Gilbert.

Before I could say a word to her pleading,

Harold had already moved in front of her, his expression set.

"Tracey, we can't just stand by and let Faith die."

"Tomorrow, we swap the bride for Faith. All right?"

"Don't worry, nothing will happen between us. You're the only one I'll ever love."

When I still said nothing, his face turned cold in an instant.

"Tracey, I've already promised Faith. Tomorrow the bride will be her. You'll explain it to everyone when the time comes."

Looking into those eyes that left no room for argument, I opened my mouth, and not a single word came out.

I never told him that I was bound to a system too.

Every time his love for me dropped by a point, my system could draw one point of fortune-luck from him.

Once his affection for me hit zero, I could unbind from him completely.

And then, I would have the power to bring my true love back to life.

...

The air in the room froze all at once.

When I still didn't speak, panic flickered in Harold's eyes,

but he pulled himself together fast.

He stepped forward and took my hand, his tone gentler now.

"Tracey, I know you can't accept this right now, but Faith is our good friend. We can't watch her die and do nothing."

"This wedding is just a formality. Later, I'll throw you a real one, just the two of us. How about that?"

Faith took a step forward too, pressing her palms together, her whole face pleading.

"Tracey, I'm begging you. Say yes."

"I swear I'll never cause trouble for the two of you again. I'll even help you keep an eye on Harold, all right?"

One second, two seconds, one minute, two minutes...

I stood there without moving, watching their ridiculous little performance.

Until Faith's expression stiffened, until her eyes brimmed with tears once more.

"Tracey, you... you won't?"

"I thought we were best friends. I thought you'd save me."

Faith cried until she could barely speak, but every word out of her mouth was an accusation aimed at me.

Harold couldn't bear to watch either. He pulled her behind him, his voice cold.

"Tracey Butler, in your eyes, is the bride's place really worth more than Faith's life?"

"Whether you agree or not, I'm going to save Faith. That's decided."

With that, he didn't spare me another glance. He simply took Faith by the hand and left.

The door shut tight, and the empty hall fell silent again.

Only after they'd vanished from sight did I ask quietly,

"System, did Harold's affection level drop?"

A faint mechanical female voice sounded in my head.

"Host, it has dropped by 5 points. Harold's current affection level is: 95."

Five points?

Just for not agreeing to that absurd request, he was displeased with me.

I suddenly remembered when I first got close to Harold.

To win his trust, I took a knife meant for him, bled all over the floor, spent half a year in the hospital.

And even then, his affection for me had only risen by five points.

Yet now, for Faith's sake, he'd forced me to step aside without a second thought.

My chest went tight and aching. I crushed the feeling down, turned, and started back.

I'd just gotten home when my phone rang, jangling and insistent.

It was Harold.

The moment I answered, his icy voice came through the line.

"Tracey Butler, you ruined the wedding gown. What is Faith supposed to wear tomorrow?"

"It wasn't me."

I bit back coldly, but on the other end Harold only grew angrier.

"You were the last one to leave today. Who else could it be?"

"Do you want Faith dead that badly?"

His voice was thick with disappointment.

My stomach clenched. I was about to say it wasn't me.

I didn't even know where that gown was kept, but the dull ache surged up in me again.

It hurt so much I couldn't get the words out, cold sweat breaking over me.

Harold took my silence for admission and hung up in a fury.

When I called back, all that was left was the dead busy tone.

He'd blocked me.

The phone slid weakly from my hand to the floor, the screen shattering to pieces.

Dazed, I bent down, and in my head the system's cold voice sounded.

"Host, target mission: Harold's affection level has dropped by 20 points. Harold's current affection level is: 75."

My fingers clenched tight, my eyes fixed on the number on the virtual screen,

and somehow, my chest loosened with relief.

Good. I'd been agonizing over whether or not to leave Harold.

Now I didn't have to think about it at all.

When I woke the next day, it was nearly noon.

I had just finished washing up when someone started pounding on the door.

I opened it to find Harold standing there, his face black with fury, one arm wrapped around Faith. She looked deathly pale.

Neither of them had changed out of their wedding clothes, still pristine white.

The moment he saw me, whatever restraint had been holding his face together broke, and he roared.

"Tracey, how could you be this vicious? Do you have any idea? Faith almost died today."

He shoved his phone into my hands. I looked down.

That was how I learned what had happened, just as Harold and Faith were about to exchange rings.

A crowd of reporters had suddenly burst in, every one of them swinging cameras and mics straight at the couple.

Asking why the bride had been swapped. Asking whether Faith was the one who'd come between us, whether she was the reason he and I had fallen apart.

Harold and I had been together ten years. Everyone knew we were a couple.

Even the invitations that had gone out named me as the bride.

Everyone knew something was off, so when the reporters flooded in

not one of our shared friends, none of those business partners, spoke up for them.

They just stood there in silence, waiting for Harold to explain.

My finger paused on the screen. I didn't answer him.

I swiped to the next video and kept watching.

On-screen, Harold's expression froze for a single instant.

But he recovered fast, pulling Faith close by the waist with an easy, intimate air.

"Ms. Butler and I have only ever been business partners. We played at being a couple for the company's image."

"But the truth is, the one I've loved all along is Faith. She's not a mistress. She never came between anyone. She's always been my girlfriend."

"If anything, it's Tracey who's spent all these years using our partnership to cling to me. She resents me for not loving her back, and that's what this whole farce is about."

He put all of it out there, the videos and chat logs he'd faked long in advance, twisting everything that had once been real between us into cold business dealings.

Turning our dates into obligations he'd had to sit through.

Claiming even the wedding invitation had been a deliberate trap I'd set.

It was like a bucket of cold water thrown over me, the chill sinking all the way through.

My nails dug into my palms.

I tossed the phone back to him and laughed, the sound mocking.

"You've already convicted me. So why bother coming to find me?"

Something awkward flickered across his face.

"I I only did it because you forced me to."

"If you hadn't hidden away and skipped the wedding, if you hadn't called those reporters in to make a scene, why would I ever deny what we were?"

His words came faster now, his tone growing more self-righteous by the second.

"Tracey, what you did was cruel. Every single thing, all of it aimed at putting Faith in the ground."

"I know. You hate her for taking your place as the bride. But all she wanted was to live. You two have known each other for years. You shouldn't have gone this far."

When he finished, he looked at me, his eyes full of the disappointment of a man who thought I should have known better.

"Tracey, when you're in the wrong, you own it. Apologize to her."

Faith looked up at me too, tears brimming, her voice weak.

"Tracey, I always thought of you as my own sister. So why would you destroy me?"

"If Harold hadn't been prepared today, I almost I almost got erased by the system."

"Just say you're sorry, and I'll forgive you."

Sorry?

What had I done that needed an apology?

I looked at the two of them, my voice cold and flat.

"I did nothing wrong. I didn't call the reporters. If that's all you came here to say, then please leave."

The words were barely out when Faith let out a shrill scream, her whole body convulsing as though she'd been shocked, and she crumpled to the floor.

Harold shot me a look through gritted teeth and hurried out with her.

Faith's piercing cry still rang in my ears. I stared at the numbers sliding down the virtual screen, and my eyes ached.

Target's Current Affection Level: 50

I gazed at it for a long, long time.

And the sad thing I realized was that, before much longer, I might finally be free.

I got the shattered phone repaired, and when I turned it back on, the messages froze the screen for a long, long time.

Most were from people in the same industry who knew us, from friends, from colleagues at the company.

Every one of them had rushed to ask me what was true.

I didn't reply to a single message. Instead, I posted one thing on my feed.

From here on, may we each be well.

The post had barely gone up when the company's HR manager called me.

She hemmed and hawed, but the meaning was perfectly clear.

I'd been fired, and my position would be taken over by Faith Curry.

I didn't cry, didn't make a scene, didn't even demand an explanation. I accepted it calmly.

I knew this was Harold's revenge on me.

He blamed me for refusing to play along, blamed me for saying things I shouldn't have.

It didn't matter. I no longer wanted to stay at that company anyway.

Calmly, I placed a call to Harold.

Maybe he was waiting for me to come crawling back, because he picked up almost at once.

His voice was as cold as ever.

"If you want your position back, then come apologize to Faith."

"She isn't cold-blooded like you. Bow your head to her, and you'll still be the vice president of the company."

He said it from on high, as if the position were charity he was handing me.

But he'd forgotten that half of this company had once been mine.

I wanted to argue, but I suddenly realized I didn't even have the strength left to fight with him.

"Harold, let's break up."

I gripped the phone, and my voice came out perfectly steady.

But before I could finish, a soft, coquettish moan came through from his end.

"Harold, who are you talking to? Why aren't you done yet?"

"I feel so awful"

Her voice was faint, yet it detonated in my head with a roar.

Harold stammered out a reply.

"It's nothing. Just a call from a client."

And with that, he hurried to hang up.

The room fell silent. I looked at the cold phone in my hand, and inside, I felt completely at peace.

Host, target mission Harold Gilbert currently has only 40 affection points remaining.

Please keep up the good work, Host.

For once, the system offered a word of encouragement.

I stood where I was, thinking of nothing, staring blankly into the distance.

It was a long while before I answered softly.

"Understood."

Early the next morning, the sound of workers coming and going through the apartment jolted me awake.

I opened my door to find Harold directing the movers to haul my things out.

Seeing me up, he gave me a cold nod.

"You're awake. Faith's system issued a new mission. It needs you to move out of this apartment."

"In a bit we'll act out a little scene with her, and afterward I'll have the workers move everything back for you."

I stared at him steadily. From start to finish, he didn't dare meet my eyes.

I gave a self-mocking laugh, a trace of relief in my voice.

"So you won't even leave me my last bit of peace, is that it?"

"Harold, this is my house. What gives you the right to move my things?"

"But I'm the one who bought it for you."

The room went abruptly still. Panic flickered through Harold's eyes for an instant, as if he hadn't realized he'd say something so cruel.

He froze there for a moment, then stole a few careful glances at me.

Faith walked over smiling and laced her fingers through his.

"Harold's right. He bought this apartment. He has the right to decide whether you get to keep it."

As she spoke, she gently undid two buttons of her shirt, baring the kiss mark at her collarbone.

"But now he wants to give it to me. Hand it over."

I looked at their clasped hands, and there was no ripple left in my heart.

"Fine. It's yours."

The words had barely left her mouth when Harold Gilbert and Faith Curry exchanged a smiling glance.

"Tracey, I never imagined you'd have this much of a knack for it."

Faith let out a soft breath, but her hand didn't let go.

Harold stood off to the side and nodded his approval.

They thought I was acting.

I didn't smile. My eyes stayed fixed on the kiss mark at Faith's collarbone.

"I wasn't acting."

"Harold, you bought this house. Now I'm giving it back to you."

I went back into the bedroom, took the property deed from the drawer, and set it on the table.

Then I turned to the closet, pulled out my suitcase, and started packing my clothes into it, one piece at a time.

Harold frowned, his voice edged with exasperation.

"Tracey, stop this. Everything just now was only a performance."

"I'll have the movers bring all your things right back."

"No need."

"I told you I'm leaving."

I picked up the suitcase, turned, and headed for the door.

Harold caught my wrist, gripping hard enough to snap the bones.

"Tracey Butler, do you really have to be this petty about it?"

The smile drained from Faith's face, and tears slid down her cheeks, one after another.

"Harold, maybe you should just stop looking out for me."

"Thank you for taking care of me all this time. I... I don't think I'll do the mission after all."

With that, she turned, sobbing, and ran for the door, only for Harold to grab hold of her.

"Where do you think you're going? We're married. How could I possibly not look after you?"

He shot me an angry look, then kicked the suitcase over.

It slammed against the wall with a bang, clothes scattering across the floor.

Faith cried out and rushed to help me gather them, but the more she did, the messier it got, until she'd turned everything into a jumble.

"What's this?"

I looked over calmly and saw that, at some point, a stack of photos had appeared in the suitcase.

They were pictures of me and someone else, from childhood on up. The person in them looked a great deal like Harold.

But look closely, and his expression, his bearing, weren't Harold's at all.

The air congealed, little by little.

Harold's face went cold in an instant.

He stared at me with something venomous in his eyes, so furious it curdled into a laugh.

"So that's it. Tracey Butler, all this time I never understood why you'd be so good to me."

"Turns out I was nothing but a stand-in for the man you love."

"Get out. Get the hell out."

On the virtual screen, the number was plummeting.

At last it stopped at 5.

I looked at him once, made no sound, picked up the suitcase in silence, and turned away.

A storm had started outside at some point. I dragged my suitcase forward, one step at a time.

But in my mind I was working out how to burn off those last 5 points of affection.

As it happened, Faith didn't let me down.

On the third day after I was thrown out, she sent people to kidnap me.

The two of us were left hanging over a cliff, the churning sea heaving below.

"Mr. Gilbert, today you can only take one person with you. Your pregnant new bride, or your dear confidante. Your choice."

The kidnapper's finger pointed at the two of us swinging in the air.

"Tell me, who do you think Harold will pick in a minute?"

Faith was asking me, but there was a thread of smugness in her voice.

The next moment, I watched Harold's finger lift, trembling.

The direction it pointed was unmistakably Faith.

I looked at him quietly, a trace of release in my eyes, and smiled.

Faith laughed softly, the sound carried to me on the wind.

"Tracey Butler, you've lost. Completely."

"So then, go die. It's your own fault for standing in my way."

Snap. The rope binding me was cut clean through, under Harold's wide, splitting stare.

My body dropped fast toward the sea, and the waves rose up and swallowed me whole.

"Tracey!"

"No!"

Harold threw himself toward me like a madman.

At the same moment, the system's voice sounded, right on time.

"Conquest target Harold Gilbert's current affection level is 0. Congratulations, host. You're free."