My Fiancé Canceled Our Wedding for His Mistress

Caden's Maserati screeched into the Bell Industries parking garage at ten thirty-two a.m. He left the engine running, the driver's door hanging open, and sprinted toward the private elevator. His shirt was wrinkled. His tie hung loose. He looked like a man who'd spent the night on a hotel lobby couch because he couldn't afford the room anymore.

The elevator doors opened on the executive floor. His assistant—former assistant—looked up from her desk and immediately looked away. She busied herself with papers that didn't need sorting.

"Where's my father?" Caden demanded.

She pointed toward the boardroom without meeting his eyes.

Caden walked fast, his shoes loud against the marble. He could feel his pulse in his temples. Everything was fixable. His father would make calls. They'd unfreeze the accounts. They'd explain the misunderstanding. Vivienne was angry—fine, she had a right to be—but she'd calm down. She always calmed down.

He shoved open the boardroom doors.

And stopped.

Vivienne Montgomery sat in the CEO chair at the head of the table. Not in a guest chair. Not standing by the window. In his father's chair. Her hands were folded on the polished wood. She wore a charcoal suit that looked like it cost more than his car. Her expression was perfectly blank.

Theodore Bell stood beside her. His face was gray. His hands shook.

Seven board members sat in silence around the table, staring at documents they weren't reading.

"What the hell is this?" Caden's voice came out too loud. "Dad, what is she doing here?"

Theodore opened his mouth. No sound came out.

Vivienne spoke instead. Her voice was calm. Even. The same voice she used to ask him how his day was. "Sit down, Caden."

"I'm not sitting down. I want to know—"

"Sit. Down."

Something in her tone made him stop. He pulled out a chair and sat. His heart hammered against his ribs.

Vivienne didn't move. She just looked at him with those dark, unreadable eyes. "Three years ago, Bell Industries was forty-eight hours from filing Chapter Eleven bankruptcy. Your father came to me privately. He asked for help. I gave it."

Caden blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"I injected one hundred and fifty million dollars in emergency capital into this company." She said it like she was reading a grocery list. "In exchange, I received controlling shares. Sixty-two percent. Your father retained twenty percent. The remaining eighteen percent is divided among minority investors."

The room tilted. Caden gripped the edge of the table. "That's not—Dad, tell her that's not true."

Theodore's voice came out thin and broken. "It's true."

"No." Caden shook his head. "No, that's not possible. I built this company back up. I made the deals. I brought in the clients. I—"

"You spent my money," Vivienne said quietly. "You sat in a chair I paid for and made decisions with capital I provided. Every contract you signed. Every deal you closed. Every board meeting you ran. You did it with my resources."

Caden's face went hot. Then cold. Then numb. "You're lying."

Vivienne slid a document across the table. It stopped in front of him. He stared at the pages. Legal language. Share certificates. His father's signature. Vivienne's signature. Dates from three years ago.

His hands wouldn't move to pick it up.

"You've been CEO of a company you didn't own," Vivienne continued. "Funded by a woman you didn't see. For three years, Caden, you've been playing dress-up in my boardroom."

One of the board members coughed. Another stared at the ceiling.

"I don't—" Caden's voice cracked. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I loved you," Vivienne said. "And I thought you'd see me eventually."

Past tense. Loved. Past tense.

Caden's chest felt like it was caving in. "Vivienne, please. I made a mistake. I know I did. But we can fix this. We can—"

"I'm withdrawing my investment," she said. "Effective immediately. I'm initiating a hostile acquisition of the remaining shares. And I'm terminating your employment in all capacities."

The room went silent.

"You can't do that," Caden whispered.

"I already have." Vivienne nodded toward the end of the table. Two men in dark suits stood. Attorneys. Caden hadn't even noticed them. "These gentlemen are filing criminal charges on behalf of the company. Embezzlement. Forty million dollars funneled from corporate accounts over eighteen months."

Caden's stomach dropped. "What?"

"The Hamptons beach house you bought for Estella. Registered in her name. Paid for with Bell Industries funds." Vivienne's voice never changed. "The designer wardrobe. The jewelry. The Tesla. All corporate assets, Caden. All traceable. All prosecutable."

"I didn't—that wasn't—" His words tangled. His brain couldn't process fast enough.

"You signed the transfers yourself," Vivienne said. "My forensic accountants have been documenting every transaction for six months."

Six months. She'd known for six months.

Caden looked at his father. Theodore wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Dad," Caden said. "Dad, say something."

Theodore's voice came out barely audible. "I'm sorry, son."

Vivienne stood. The board members stood with her. She buttoned her suit jacket with precise, unhurried movements. "Security will escort you from the building. You have ten minutes to collect personal items from your office. Anything purchased with company funds remains property of Bell Industries."

She walked toward the door. The attorneys followed.

Caden lunged to his feet. "Vivienne, wait. Please. Just wait."

She stopped. Didn't turn around.

"I'll fix this," Caden said desperately. "I'll pay it back. All of it. I'll do whatever you want. Just don't—please don't do this."

Vivienne looked back over her shoulder. Her face was perfectly calm. "You already did this, Caden. I'm just making sure everyone knows."

Then she walked out.

Caden stood alone in the boardroom. The board members filed out silently. His father left last, moving like a man twice his age.

The door closed.

Caden sank into the chair. His chair. Except it had never been his chair.

Nothing had ever been his.