Cancelled Wedding: Pursued By The Secret Tycoon

The next morning, Genevieve opened her eyes. The stark white ceiling above her slowly came into focus, and the sharp smell of antiseptic filled the room. A nurse noticed she was awake and walked over with a gentle smile.

"You're awake, Miss Harding. You had a high fever when you arrived last night. It's acute influenza, but you're stable now."

"Thank you," Genevieve whispered. Her throat was dry and painful, and even a small movement made her body ache.

Her eyes moved to the phone on the bedside table. The screen was dark.

No missed calls. No messages. Charle Parrish had not contacted her once.

She picked up the phone and unlocked it. This time, she didn't wait for an explanation or a reason. She opened his contact and typed a short message.

"Charle, we're done. The engagement is off. Don't contact me again."

After sending it, she blocked his number, removed him from every social media account, and deleted the contact.

Only then did she put down the phone.

A nurse came in to check her temperature and told her the fever had gone down. She could leave after a few more hours of observation.

While waiting for the discharge papers, her phone rang. The caller ID showed "Aunt Diane."

She answered. Diane Reynolds's voice immediately came through, sharp and impatient. "Gen! What are you doing? Didn't you see my email about Brian's job at Parrish Group? Why haven't you replied?"

Genevieve sat quietly on the hospital bed. She didn't mention the fever. She didn't mention Charle. She simply said, "I'll call you back later."

Before Diane could respond, she ended the call and turned on Do Not Disturb.

After finishing the discharge process, Genevieve left the hospital and took a cab back to the penthouse on the Upper East Side.

When she opened the door, everything inside was exactly the same as before. The expensive furniture, the spotless rooms, the quiet space that had once been called their home.

She walked straight to the walk-in closet and pulled out several large suitcases. She packed quickly. Clothes, books, jewelry design sketches, and the few personal items that belonged only to her.

When she saw the diamond necklace Charle had given her lying on the vanity, her hand paused for a second. Then she picked it up, placed it back into the box, and left it behind.

She didn't take anything Charle had bought for her. Only her own things.

While searching through the bookshelf, she found a small wooden box hidden behind the books. Inside were old photographs of her and her parents. She carefully placed the box into her suitcase.

Within two hours, everything she needed was packed. She contacted a moving company and sent her belongings to a storage unit, keeping only a small suitcase with daily necessities.

Before leaving, she stood in the living room one last time.

Then she removed the engagement ring from her finger and placed it beside the apartment keys on the coffee table.

She opened her phone, booked a suite at The Whitby Hotel, and paid for one week in advance.

With her suitcase in hand, she walked out of the apartment without looking back.

The elevator doors closed slowly, cutting off the place where she had once imagined her future.

At The Whitby Hotel, she stood at the front desk and gave her name.

"Genevieve Harding."

After entering her room, she placed her suitcase down and walked toward the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking Central Park.

For a moment, she stood there silently.

Then she took out her phone and dialed a number she had not called in a long time.