He Ruined Me

Name: He Ruined Me
Rating: 5.0 (1 reviews)

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Romance | Ongoing

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Mia didn't wake up expecting to find her boyfriend in bed with her best friend-but by 7:30 a.m., her world is shattered by a breakup text and a betrayal she never saw coming. Heartbroken, humiliated, and suddenly cut off from the life Caleb built for her, she does what any woman with nothing left to lose would do: slips into her shortest dress, downs three drinks too many, and vows to forget. Enter him-a mysterious stranger with a velvet voice, a guarded past, and a dangerous smirk that promises trouble. One night. No names. No strings. But when the night ends with more than just a memory-when it ends with a mistake that becomes something far bigger than Mia ever imagined-she's forced to confront a future she never planned... and a man who may ruin her, save her, or both. One betrayal ended her past. One stranger will define her future.

Suspense Modern Betrayal Revenge CEO Romance Forbidden love Comeback Revenge

Chapter 5 005

06-11 22:03

Chapter 1 001

Mia

I didn't wake up thinking I'd walk in on my boyfriend screwing my best friend.

But here we are.

It started with a text. A break-up text.

At 7:02 a.m.

"Mia, I think it's best we go our separate ways. I've changed. You've changed. Let's not drag this out."

At first, I laughed. I literally snorted.

"This guy's joking," I mumbled, rubbing sleep from my eyes and blinking at my phone like it might glitch into a better message.

I called him. No answer.

Called again. Straight to voicemail.

Still grinning like an idiot, I dragged myself to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. The grin faded. The chill didn't help. The text was still there, still very real.

Maybe he lost his mind. Or maybe-

No. He wouldn't do that. Caleb might be a moody pain in the ass, but he wouldn't dump me over text like some commitment-phobic teenager.

Right?

Wrong.

I booked a cab and showed up at his place twenty minutes later-no warning, no makeup, wearing yesterday's hoodie and a messy bun that screamed "emotional breakdown pending."

The front door was unlocked. Red flag number one.

"Caleb?" I called as I stepped inside. Silence.

The house smelled like vanilla candles and betrayal.

Then I saw them-clothes.

A dress I recognized. A belt I bought him. Scattered like confetti on the floor.

My heart kicked against my ribs, wild and stupidly hopeful. Maybe they had a party. Maybe he passed out drunk and someone crashed here. Maybe-

I stormed down the hall and flung the bedroom door open.

I wish I hadn't.

There he was.

Caleb, in all his shirtless, cheating glory.

On top of my best friend.

Ella.

I froze. They froze.

Only one of us was naked.

"What the hell is going on?!" I shouted, my voice breaking halfway through.

Caleb scrambled off her like the coward he is, reaching for his pants like that would somehow erase what I just saw.

Ella covered herself with the sheets like we hadn't shared wine and secrets and matching tattoos.

"Mia, wait-" she started.

"Oh, shut the hell up," I snapped, stepping into the room like the walls weren't collapsing around me. "Are you seriously going to explain this to me right now? In my ex-boyfriend's bed? Naked?"

Caleb ran a hand through his hair. "Look, it's not what you think-"

"Really? Because what I think is that you're both trash. And from where I'm standing, I'm pretty damn right."

Ella sat up, flushed and flustered. "It was just a stupid dare!"

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"That night... remember? We played Truth or Dare. You dared me to kiss him."

"I dared you to kiss him at a party two months ago, Ella. Not screw him behind my back and send me a break-up text while you were still in bed!"

"It was just-God, Mia, it wasn't supposed to happen like this."

I stared at her. The girl who used to braid my hair and cry over bad rom-coms with me. My best friend. Or so I thought.

"You know what?" I said, my voice suddenly calm in that dangerous, pre-crying kind of way. "You two deserve each other."

And with that, I turned and walked out.

No yelling. No throwing things.

Just a quiet, bone-deep numbness I couldn't shake.

Back at my shoebox apartment, I cried like I was auditioning for a soap opera. The ugly kind-with tissues, snot, and Taylor Swift on repeat. I deleted Caleb's number, blocked Ella, and stared at my ceiling wondering how the hell my life fell apart before breakfast.

Then came the second wave of reality: He paid my rent. My groceries. My entire life.

And I'd just walked out on him with nothing but pride and a playlist full of breakup songs.

Awesome.

That night, I did what any heartbroken woman with limited options and a dangerously high wine tolerance would do:

I slipped into my shortest dress, painted on some eyeliner like war paint, and hit the hottest club in the city.

No names. No drama. No regrets.

I just wanted to forget.

Spoiler:

That was the night I met him.

The man who'd ruin me... and also, unknowingly, become the father of my child.

But I didn't know that yet.

At the time, all I saw was a man at the bar with sharp eyes, a darker suit, and a voice that felt like velvet sliding down my spine.

And I was about to make the worst-and best-mistake of my life.

The club was loud-music pulsing through the floor like a second heartbeat, lights flickering in hypnotic rhythm, and bodies swaying to a beat that didn't care who you were or what you'd been through.

Perfect.

I slid onto a barstool and ordered a drink strong enough to numb everything. The bartender raised an eyebrow at my request, but I was past caring. Let them judge.

I downed the first glass too fast. The second one was smoother, slower, warmer. The third? That's when I saw him.

He was standing alone at the far end of the bar like he owned it. Like he owned everything. Tailored black suit, dark hair, broad shoulders, and a presence that made every woman in the room take a second glance-whether she wanted to or not.

And when his eyes met mine?

It was like the noise in the club dimmed.

I looked away. Then looked back.

He was still watching me. Like he'd been waiting. Like he already knew how the night would end.

I should've looked away again. I should've left. I should've done a lot of things.

Instead, I held his gaze and raised my glass.

He smirked. Not smiled-smirked. That quiet, dangerous kind of confidence only men with too much money and too many secrets seem to have.

And then he started walking toward me.

My heart was beating like I was running a marathon, but I didn't move. I didn't even breathe. When he stopped in front of me, his cologne hit me first-rich, expensive, and sinful.

"Bad day?" he asked, voice low and smooth. American, but polished. Like velvet over gravel.

"Something like that," I replied, tipping my glass toward him.

"Boyfriend trouble?"

"Ex," I corrected.

He raised a brow, amused. "His loss."

I gave him a look. "You don't even know me."

"I don't need to." He leaned closer, just enough to make my stomach flip. "Sometimes, it's obvious."

My laugh was short, dry. "Are you always this full of yourself?"

"Only when I'm right."

I rolled my eyes, but I wasn't annoyed. I was... intrigued. Which was dangerous. Because the last thing I needed was another arrogant, beautiful man with too many secrets and too much power.

But damn, he smelled good.

"What's your name?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No names."

That caught him off guard for a second. Then that smirk returned, deeper this time. "Mysterious. I like it."

He didn't ask again. Just held out his hand, palm up, like an invitation.

I stared at it.

This was the part where I was supposed to say no. Walk away. Call another cab. Cry into more ice cream.

Instead, I put my hand in his.

His fingers curled around mine, strong and warm.

He didn't take me to a dance floor. Didn't push. He just leaned in, brushed his lips close to my ear, and asked, "Do you want to get out of here?"