After My Billionaire Fiancé Chose His Ex

"Are we almost there?" I asked, smoothing the silk over my knees.

Carter kept his eyes on the road. "Impatient for your present, Tessa?"

"I'm twenty-eight today. I think I've waited long enough." I let my gaze drop to his suit jacket. A distinct square bulge pressed against the inner lining. He was going to propose. After three years, Carter Brooks was finally going to ask me to marry him.

"Just two more blocks to the restaurant," he said, a faint smile touching his lips.

Then, a blur of motion darted into the street.

Tires shrieked against the asphalt. Carter slammed the brakes, throwing us both forward against our seatbelts.

"What the hell?" he shouted.

A woman stood dead center in the headlights. Her makeup was smeared, hair clinging to her wet cheeks. She rushed the hood of the car, slapping her palms against the metal.

"Carter! Carter, please!"

"Don't open the window," I warned, my pulse hammering against my ribs.

He hit the button anyway. The glass slid down, letting in the damp evening air.

"Bettye," Carter snapped. "Are you insane? I could have killed you."

"I need to talk to you," she sobbed, gripping the window frame. "Just five minutes. Please. You won't answer my calls."

I stared at her. This was Bettye Monroe. The ex-girlfriend. The one who broke his heart four years ago and moved across the country.

"We have nothing to talk about," Carter said. His jaw locked into a hard line. "Get your hands off my car."

"You don't mean that," she pleaded, her voice cracking. "I came back for you."

"Bettye, we are finished." He didn't flinch. He didn't soften. "You shouldn't bother my fiancée anymore. Now step back, or I'm calling the police."

*Fiancée.*

The word sparked a sudden heat in my chest. Tears pricked my eyes. I reached across the console and gripped his right hand. His fingers intertwined with mine, warm and steady. He wasn't wavering. He was choosing me, right to her face.

Bettye let out a choked gasp. She stumbled away from the door, disappearing into the shadows of the sidewalk.

Carter rolled the window up and hit the gas. "I'm sorry about that, Tessa."

"It's okay," I whispered. "You handled it."

We arrived at the restaurant ten minutes later. The private dining room was lit by dozens of candles, casting a warm glow over the silver plates and crystal glasses. A bouquet of red roses sat in the center. Everything was perfect.

Carter pulled out my chair. "Happy birthday, Tessa."

"Thank you." I sat down, my eyes flicking toward his jacket pocket again.

Before he could take his own seat, the heavy mahogany door swung open. It hit the wall with a loud thud.

Not a waiter.

Bettye stood in the doorway. She had wiped the ruined makeup from her face, leaving her eyes red and puffy. She marched straight to our table.

"How did you get back here?" Carter demanded, stepping between her and the table. "This is a private room."

"I paid the hostess," she said flatly. She dug into her purse and pulled out a thick stack of photographs. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed them onto the white linen tablecloth.

They scattered next to my fork. Polaroids. Carter and Bettye on a beach. Carter kissing Bettye's cheek. Bettye wearing a diamond ring on her right hand.

"What is this?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Our past," Bettye answered, staring right at me. "He promised me forever, Tessa. Did he mention that? We picked out baby names. We bought a house."

"Shut up, Bettye," Carter growled.

"Tell her the truth!" she yelled, pointing a shaking finger at him. "We didn't fall out of love. We broke up over a stupid misunderstanding. I panicked. I ran. But the feelings never died."

I pushed my chair back, the legs scraping loudly against the hardwood floor. "Carter, get her out of here."

"I'm handling it." He grabbed Bettye by the upper arm. "You are crossing a line. Leave. Right now."

She didn't fight his grip. Instead, she leaned in close to his chest. "I'm leaving," she murmured, her tone dropping to a soft, broken whisper. "But you remember how it felt. I know you do."

She pulled out of his grasp and walked toward the door.

"Don't ever come near us again," Carter shouted after her.

But as the door clicked shut, he didn't turn back to me. He stood frozen in the middle of the room. His eyes remained glued to the wood panels where she had just disappeared. His shoulders slumped slightly. The fierce, protective energy he had shown in the car was entirely gone.

"Carter?" I said.

He blinked, shaking his head. "Sorry. Let's just... let's sit down and eat. Let's salvage this night."

He didn't reach for his jacket pocket. The entire dinner passed in a tense, suffocating quiet. He ordered wine. He asked about my work. He forced a smile. But the ring stayed hidden.

When the waiter brought out a slice of chocolate cake, Carter's phone buzzed on the table.

He glanced at the screen, then quickly flipped the device face down.

"Work?" I asked, keeping my tone light.

"Yeah. Just an emergency at the office," he replied, cutting into his steak.

I smiled and took a bite of cake. I didn't see the notification. I didn't know the message wasn't from his boss. I had no idea Bettye had just typed: *If you've really forgotten me, don't come tonight.*

We drove home in silence. The secure, triumphant feeling from the car ride had completely evaporated, replaced by a cold knot in my stomach.

"I'm exhausted," Carter said the moment we walked through our front door. "I'm going straight to sleep."

"Okay," I agreed, too drained to force a confrontation. "Me too."

I washed my face, changed into my pajamas, and crawled under the heavy duvet. Carter was already facing the wall, breathing evenly. I closed my eyes, telling myself tomorrow would be better. The shock would wear off. He would propose tomorrow.

Hours passed.

A strange draft drifted across my bare arms. I shivered, pulling the blankets higher.

I rolled over, throwing my hand out to find his warmth.

My fingers brushed flat, cool cotton.

My eyes snapped open. The digital clock on the nightstand glared in red numbers. 1:00 AM.

"Carter?" I mumbled into the dark.

No answer.

I sat up. The bathroom door stood wide open, pitch black inside. His slippers were missing from the rug.

I reached for the bedside table, intending to check the time on his phone. The spot where he always left it charging was completely empty.

I threw off the covers and ran out to the hallway.

"Carter!"

The house was dead silent. I rushed to the front window and pulled back the curtains. The driveway was empty. His car was gone.