Marrying His Rival: The Ex-Fiancé's Nightmare

Charlotte Glover POV:

"Jaden," I rasped into the receiver, my vocal cords feeling like they had been shredded by shards of ice.

"Where are you?"

His voice was a low growl, vibrating with a controlled violence that should have terrified me. Instead, it washed over me like a warm blanket. "I've been tracking your phone, but it went dark for six hours. If he hurt you-"

"I'm at St. Jude's," I interrupted, my breath hitching. "He locked me in a freezer, Jaden. He thought I kidnapped her."

Silence.

A deadly, heavy silence stretched across the line, thicker than the air in that box.

"I'm coming," he said.

"No," I said quickly, forcing strength into my tone. "Not yet. If you come now, it's war. And I'm not ready to win yet."

"Charlotte-"

"I need to destroy him, Jaden. Not just kill him. I need to take everything," I whispered, the cold in my bones turning into something harder, sharper. "His name. His money. His pride. I need him to be nothing."

I could hear Jaden's breathing stabilize. He understood. He was a tactician, just like me.

"What do you need?"

"I need to get out of here. And I need to launch AURA on schedule. It's the only leverage I have that's mine."

"Done. I'll have security at your door in ten minutes. Glover men, not Barnes."

I hung up.

The adrenaline was the only thing keeping the agony at bay.

Bryant tried to send a check the next morning. Five million dollars.

"For the inconvenience," the note read, written in his jagged, arrogant script.

I stared at the paper. He had put a price tag on my life. Five million for freezing me to death.

I tore it up and flushed it down the toilet.

Then, I discharged myself against medical advice.

I had a fashion show to run.

AURA was my soul. It was a high-end fashion tech brand-smart fabrics, bulletproof elegance. It was also the legitimate front that washed the Glover family's money, making me indispensable to the Commission.

If I lost AURA, I was just a wife again.

I spent the next three days barricaded in my office, sleeping in bursts on the couch, working through the haze of painkillers with a broken hand and a fractured leg.

My staff looked at me like I was a ghost haunting the atelier, but they worked double time.

The launch night arrived.

It was flawless.

The models walked the runway in my designs-armor for the modern woman, sharp lines and shimmering tech. The reviews were instantaneous and glowing.

For a moment, standing backstage, listening to the thunderous applause, I felt whole.

Then my assistant, Sarah, rushed up to me. Her face was the color of ash.

"Ms. Glover, you need to see this."

She held up a tablet.

Twitter was trending. AURACopycat.

My stomach dropped.

I clicked the hashtag.

It linked to a blog post. Kalia's Kreations.

The post was dated two months ago.

It contained sketches. My sketches. The exact architectural designs that were currently walking down the runway.

So excited to share my new concepts! Sad that big corporations always steal from indie artists, the caption read.

The air left my lungs.

"She backdated it," I whispered, my mind racing. "She hacked the blog timestamp."

"Look at the retweet," Sarah said, her voice trembling.

I looked.

@BryantBarnes: Proud of my talented friend Kalia. Disgusting that AURA would steal her work. Integrity matters. BoycottAURA

The room spun.

He knew. He had to know.

Kalia had stolen the physical sketchbooks when she broke into my apartment-the same night she crushed my hand. The night Bryant let the police walk away.

She had planned this.

And Bryant... Bryant was publicly siding with his mistress to dismantle his fiancée's empire.

He wasn't just hurting me anymore. He was erasing my existence.

My phone started ringing off the hook. Investors. Retailers. The bank.

"Cancel the after-party," I said, my voice dead.

"Ms. Glover?"

"Cancel it!" I screamed, snatching the tablet and hurling it against the wall.

It shattered.

I stood there in the ruins of my success, realizing that playing by the rules was over.

Bryant wanted a villain?

Fine.

I would be the villain.

I grabbed my crutches and hobbled toward the exit, ignoring the pain shooting up my leg.

"Where are you going?" Sarah asked.

"To see my fiancé," I said. "And to accept a job offer."

I dialed Jaden.

"Is the offer still open?" I asked.

"Always," he replied.

"Good. I'm ready to burn it down. But first, I'm going to light the match in his office."

I walked out into the flashing cameras, not shielding my face this time.

Let them see the anger. Let them see the hate.

The Caged Canary was dead.

The Queen was coming for her crown.