His Devotion, Her Deception

Noah

Romance | Completed

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The roar of the crowd was a distant hum as I stood backstage, a velvet box in my hand, ready to surprise Chloe-the woman I loved, the dancer poised for victory. Her voice, clear and musical, drifted through her dressing room door, casually dismissing me to the host: "Ethan? He' s just a suitor, one of many." Then came the colder blow, a dismissive laugh as she added, "Some people just have more money than sense... A bit of a gold-digger, you could say, just for status instead of money." The word "gold-digger" hit me like a physical punch, forcing the box containing the "Starry Night" necklace-a symbol of my months-long devotion and sacrifice-to clatter to the concrete floor. Suddenly, every anonymous donation, every chauffeur drive, every hidden act of support over the years twisted into a stark, humiliating truth: I hadn't been building a future; I had merely been funding her present. Later, in the lobby, she paraded a new man, Leo, as her "soul connection," while casually introducing me as an "old friend from back home," making sure to emphasize the word friend. Leo then went on to serenade her, turning his performance into a public jab at me, declaring, "Some gifts don't come in a box. They come from the soul. They can't be bought." The irony was suffocating. I, Ethan Miller, the "tech CEO" who had built an empire from nothing, was being cast as the materialistic fool, outshone by a performative, "spiritual" artist. And Chloe, the woman I loved more than anything, gave me a fleeting glance that screamed, "Don't make a scene." The love I held for her, so deep and foundational, began to crumble, replaced by a cold, hard resolve. I walked out of that theater, leaving the illusion behind, knowing one thing for sure: if money was all I valued, at least money had never lied to me. But the real question remained: What was she really worth? And what was he hiding?

Betrayal Revenge Love triangle CEO Second chance Personal growth

Chapter 10

01-06 21:21

Introduction

The roar of the crowd was a distant hum as I stood backstage, a velvet box in my hand, ready to surprise Chloe-the woman I loved, the dancer poised for victory.

Her voice, clear and musical, drifted through her dressing room door, casually dismissing me to the host: "Ethan? He' s just a suitor, one of many."

Then came the colder blow, a dismissive laugh as she added, "Some people just have more money than sense... A bit of a gold-digger, you could say, just for status instead of money."

The word "gold-digger" hit me like a physical punch, forcing the box containing the "Starry Night" necklace-a symbol of my months-long devotion and sacrifice-to clatter to the concrete floor.

Suddenly, every anonymous donation, every chauffeur drive, every hidden act of support over the years twisted into a stark, humiliating truth: I hadn't been building a future; I had merely been funding her present.

Later, in the lobby, she paraded a new man, Leo, as her "soul connection," while casually introducing me as an "old friend from back home," making sure to emphasize the word friend.

Leo then went on to serenade her, turning his performance into a public jab at me, declaring, "Some gifts don't come in a box. They come from the soul. They can't be bought."

The irony was suffocating. I, Ethan Miller, the "tech CEO" who had built an empire from nothing, was being cast as the materialistic fool, outshone by a performative, "spiritual" artist.

And Chloe, the woman I loved more than anything, gave me a fleeting glance that screamed, "Don't make a scene."

The love I held for her, so deep and foundational, began to crumble, replaced by a cold, hard resolve.

I walked out of that theater, leaving the illusion behind, knowing one thing for sure: if money was all I valued, at least money had never lied to me.

But the real question remained: What was she really worth? And what was he hiding?