Jilted Ex: Married To The Blind Tycoon

Elliana Castillo secured the clasp on the sapphire necklace. The stones were cold against her skin, a familiar weight she had worn for the better part of eight years.

It was a gift from Preston for their first anniversary, the deep blue matching his eyes. Tonight, she wore it with a silver dress that shimmered under the soft lights of her apartment, the one he paid for.

She smoothed a hand down the silk, her reflection in the vanity mirror showing a woman ready to celebrate the man she loved. Everything was perfect. The caterers were confirmed, the guest list triple-checked. All for Preston's thirtieth birthday.

A soft smile touched her lips as she imagined his face when he saw her. He loved it when she made an effort. He said it showed she knew her place.

Her phone buzzed on the polished surface of the vanity. She glanced at it, expecting a message from the party planner. She could let it wait.

It buzzed again, a series of short, insistent vibrations that broke the quiet anticipation in the room. This time, she picked it up. Two messages from her best friend, Chloe.

The first was a link to an Instagram story. The preview thumbnail was just a blur of blue water and bright sun.

The second message appeared right below it. "Ellie, you need to see this. Now."

Chloe's tone, even in text, was sharp, stripped of its usual humor. A knot of ice formed in Elliana's stomach. Something was wrong. Her breath hitched.

She took a shallow breath, her thumb hovering over the link. Her hands were trembling. She pressed down.

The screen filled with the raucous noise of a party. The camera was shaky, panning across the deck of a yacht. People were laughing, drinking champagne. Elliana recognized Preston's friends. Carter Sterling mugged for the camera, his face flushed with alcohol.

Then the camera swiveled, focusing on the bow of the boat.

And there was Preston.

Her Preston. Her fiancé. He was leaning against the railing, his arm wrapped tightly around a blonde woman in a tiny bikini. Elliana knew who she was-Kinsley Monroe, an influencer with a million followers. She'd seen her name in Preston's 'following' list.

Someone off-camera wolf-whistled. Preston grinned, then dipped his head and kissed Kinsley, a long, lazy kiss that was anything but innocent.

The person holding the phone, Carter, let out a loud laugh. "Dude, aren't you worried Elliana's gonna see this?"

Preston pulled back from Kinsley, a smirk playing on his lips. He looked directly at the camera, his voice dripping with condescending amusement. "Her? She'll just be at home, waiting for me. Like a good little canary in a cage."

A wave of boisterous laughter erupted from the group. The sound was a physical blow, roaring in Elliana's ears.

The blood in her veins turned to ice. The air in her lungs solidified. She couldn't breathe. The video looped, playing again. Preston's smile, his words, the laughter. A joke. Eight years of her life, a joke.

She had spent the week planning this party, coordinating every detail to make him happy. And he was on a yacht, with another woman, calling her his canary.

Her phone vibrated in her hand again. A new text message. From Preston.

"Hey babe, is everything ready for tonight? I'm on my way back."

The hypocrisy was so profound it made her physically sick. A wave of nausea churned in her gut. She looked at her reflection again. The perfect dress, the perfect makeup, the perfect necklace. A perfectly decorated cage for a canary.

Her eyes were hollow. Broken.

With a sudden, sharp movement, she reached up and tore the sapphire necklace from her throat. The clasp dug into her skin, leaving a raw, red line. She didn't feel the pain.

She threw the necklace onto the vanity. It clattered against the glass, the sound unnaturally loud in the silent apartment.

She picked up her phone. Her thumb moved over the screen, past his message, to his contact information. Her finger hovered over the block and delete options.

The tears she expected didn't come. There was only a vast, cold emptiness inside her. A single thought, clear and sharp as a shard of glass, cut through the shock.

It's over.