My Ex-Fiancé Went Crazy When I Got Married

When Clint ended our engagement, everyone said my life was over. I had been with him for five years, and to please him, my reputation was already in ruins. No one would accept a woman like me. Then, when news spread that Clint had a new lover, everyone expected me to beg him to take me back. But they didn't know I had willingly replaced my younger sister and was about to go to Washington for an arranged marriage.

Before the wedding, I returned the treasure chest Clint had given me, including the blank wish card he'd given me years ago, cleanly and without a trace.

Much later, Clint unexpectedly contacted me: "It's been so long, has Frida died?" Just as I was half-asleep, my new husband's kiss awakened me. "Frida, darling, we agreed on four times—no less…"

The day Clint suddenly proposed marriage, I hadn't seen him in three months. The last time we met, I overheard him telling his friends he was tired of me. The entire room erupted in laughter; they mocked me for being with him for five years, ruining my reputation to please him, only to be discarded like an old shoe.

My three months with the Brown family were difficult. A few days prior, Draven had gotten drunk and hurt me; the wound on my back still ached. So, when Clint called and asked me to come over, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. I hurriedly put on the bangles he'd given me when we were engaged and rushed over.

By the time I arrived at the villa, Clint was already intoxicated, half-lying with his eyes closed, his head resting on a young girl's lap. The girl looked like a student, innocent and pure. When she saw me, she tried to leave, but Clint held her wrist. "Stay," he said, without opening his eyes. He tugged gently, and she leaned over, obediently lowering her head for his kiss. He cupped her chin and kissed her deeply.

I stood at the entrance, clutching my handbag, unsure what to do. After a while, I forced myself to calm down and pretended indifference. I looked out the window and said, "I'll walk in the garden and come back later."

Clint chuckled. The girl quickly rose, saying, "I'll go outside. Let Sister come in." This time, Clint didn't stop her. He just played with her hand before reluctantly letting go, "It's cold outside. Don't catch a cold." The girl smiled lightly, nodded, and her long, black hair covered most of her shy, red face. As she passed me, she politely greeted me as "Sister" before leaving. She was very young, with clear eyes, and her timid demeanor reminded me of my younger sister.

"Frida, come here." Clint leaned back on the sofa and patted the seat beside him. The large, intricate crystal chandelier cast a brilliant light, making his sharp features seem almost unreal. For a moment, I felt an indescribable discomfort.

He asked, "Doesn't she remind you of yourself five years ago?" He continued, mimicking his words from when he pursued me, "You were a jewel; it was almost heartbreaking." Back then, he truly loved me and spoiled me greatly. He treated me like something precious, afraid I'd melt in his hands. I was the longest relationship he'd ever had. I even moved in with him before graduating college.

The person I am now is completely different. My reputation is ruined. Everyone in New York knows how far I went to cling to this golden bachelor. I did countless shameful things to keep him. At that time, he said he was tired of my pure innocence. To please him, I forced myself to change, to fit into his world. I adapted to his unusual tastes; he wanted someone seductive, passionate, bold, and uninhibited. I endured the discomfort and satisfied his desires. But my compliance only earned his disdain.

"Frida, you really are cheap." "You're worse than a prostitute in bed." "Look at you now, do you still have any dignity left?"

He initiated the breakup. Draven used my younger siblings to threaten me. I tried to kill myself—slashing my wrists, drinking poison, and more.

He said, "I like her because she reminds me of you five years ago. I want to give her status. She's not like you; she's so timid, so pure, I have to take responsibility."

I wanted to say something, but my lips felt glued together. After a long pause, I forced a smile. "Okay, I understand."

"As for your family, I can help you talk to them."

"No need. I'll figure it out myself."

"Then, it's up to you." He stood unsteadily, pulled something from his pocket, and tossed it onto the coffee table.