Marrying My Ex-Fiancé's Cousin

The next morning, in the CEO's office of the Princeton Group, Alan slammed a file onto his desk, agitation flashing in his eyes. His fingertips tapped impatiently against the polished mahogany surface. "Is Isolde still not back at work?"

The assistant lowered her head. "No, sir. Ms. Vancrest hasn't shown up for three days."

Alan's brows drew tighter. She had no money, so how had she survived these past few days? Was she starving? Sleeping on the streets? Curled up like a stray cat in some dark corner?

The thought made his chest ache. He had spoiled her far too much. That was why she had become so stubborn, willing to suffer anything rather than bow her head.

Alan pressed his fingers to his temple, feeling the weight of exhaustion and helplessness. "Find out where she is. I'll pick her up myself."

At that moment, the office door flew open, and Sandra, seven months pregnant, rushed in.

"Alan." Her voice trembled as she held up a glittering diamond ring. Panic flickered in her eyes. "I was shopping with friends when I saw a woman wearing this. I recognized it right away. It's Isolde's wedding ring! You had it custom-made by a master jeweler. There's only one like it in the world."

She hesitated, her expression uneasy. "I asked the woman where she got it. She said… she bought it from a luxury resale store."

The expensive pen in Alan's hand snapped in two.

His face darkened, and veins bulged at his temples.

"Isolde Vancrest, you've done well, haven't you?" Each word came out between clenched teeth.

He had been worrying she might be suffering, while she had gone and sold their wedding ring for cash.

"Alan, it's all my fault. If it weren't for me, you and Isolde wouldn't have ended up like this…"

Sandra wiped away her tears, her face full of sorrow. "That ring symbolizes your love. If she sold it, doesn't that mean she wants to break up with you?"

"Break up?" Alan let out a short, humorless laugh, as if he had heard the biggest joke in the world.

A storm brewed in his eyes as he spoke. "She loves me to the bone. Breaking up would be like tearing out her heart. She couldn't bear it. She's just throwing a tantrum, trying to provoke me by selling the ring.

"When she gets emotional, I usually let her have her way. But when it comes to something as serious as continuing the family line, that's the bottom line. She can't possibly think she can threaten me over this.

"It's time she learns a lesson and sees things clearly."

At Crestmont Estate…

Walter asked respectfully, "Ms. Vancrest, would today be convenient? The Palace Hotel has made all the arrangements. You can visit anytime to choose a wedding venue."

"This afternoon is fine." Isolde rubbed her temple. "I have a meeting with Mr. Miller at noon to sign a contract."

She had worked on this project for three months. Everything was ready, and all that remained was the final signing. It was also the last project she would handle at the Princeton Group. She wanted to finish what she started.

More importantly, the commission was 280,000 dollars. It was rightfully hers, and she wasn't about to walk away from it. Once she signed the deal, she would begin arbitration, collect her severance, and leave the company for good.

"Understood, Ms. Vancrest. Where will the signing take place? I'll have the car ready this afternoon," Walter offered.

"No need. It's at the Palace Hotel."

…

At noon, Isolde arrived at the private room right on time.

When she opened the door, she froze. Two unexpected figures were waiting inside—Alan and Sandra, the latter looking smug.

Sandra held a pen, signing her name on the last page of the contract. She looked up at Isolde with a triumphant smile.

"Oh, Isolde, you're here? I'm so sorry. I forgot to tell you. Alan thought the department needed stronger leadership, so I joined as the new director. That means I'm your supervisor now. As for this contract…"

She lifted the document in her hand. "I went ahead and signed it for you."

A woman seven months pregnant—someone who should have been on maternity leave—had parachuted in as director just to steal her project. It wasn't just sabotage. It was deliberate humiliation.

Rage surged through Isolde's veins, and she glared at the real culprit. "Alan Princeton! I spent three months on this project. I lost sleep over it. I poured everything into it, and you just gave it away? What right does she have to sign my contract?"

Alan's eyes locked onto hers, darker than ever, his anger burning hotter than hers. He strode toward her and hissed, "How dare you sell our wedding ring? Isolde Vancrest, do you even care about me at all?"

Isolde almost laughed in disbelief. She had expected him to stoop low, but dragging personal grudges into work was beyond petty.

"This is just a small warning," he said coldly. "From now on, don't ever let that ring leave your finger again, or else…"

Alan grabbed her hand, his grip tight enough to crush bone, and forced the cold diamond ring back onto her finger. His tone softened, but his words dripped with threat. "Don't blame me for firing you. Isolde, face reality. Everything you have, be it your title as future Mrs. Princeton or your career, comes from me. Without me, you're nothing.

"I don't want to be cruel, but you need to know your place. Come home, accept the child, and I'll forgive everything. I'll treat you just like before."

His voice sounded gentle, almost tender, but his words made her stomach churn.

'So this is his version of love,' she thought.

When she obeyed, he showered her with affection. When she didn't, he stripped it all away, using threats and humiliation to crush her. He had truly forgotten who she was.

Three years ago, fresh out of university, she had received offers from several leading global firms. Even Nightfall Corp., the world's top tech company, had invited her to head its AI Research Division.

Yet she had turned them all down, choosing instead to build the Princeton Group from the ground up for one reason: Alan's simple request.

"I need you," he had said.

For three years, she had poured her heart into the work, almost single-handedly keeping the company's AI department alive and helping it secure a foothold in a cutthroat market.

The upcoming AI emotional interaction project was her brainchild. Once released, it would propel the Princeton Group to the top of the industry. Without her, that department was an empty shell.

"Fire me? Mr. Princeton, by all means. Just make sure my full severance and arbitration settlement hit my account." Isolde gave a sharp, mocking laugh.

"Oh, and one more thing." She turned to John Miller, smiling politely. "As you can see, Mr. Princeton is terminating my employment. Unfortunately, I can no longer provide the core optimization technology I promised your company—"

With that, she turned and walked out without hesitation.

A furious slam echoed through the room.

"The contract is canceled!" John shouted.

Alan stared in shock at the torn papers, then at Isolde's retreating figure. Sharp and unfamiliar panic gripped his chest.

In the past, no matter how bitter their fights became, Isolde always compromised for him and the company. She swallowed her pride every time. She was supposed to yield again. She always did.

But this time, she hadn't even looked back. Could it be that this time, she truly meant it?