Betrayed Before the Vows

“I will marry you. I don’t want to marry Camelia. All this time I have only taken advantage of her intelligence.”

Camelia’s body froze.

The hand holding her phone slowly dropped to her side. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt in her chest. She stood rooted in place, unable to immediately believe what she had just heard.

Inside the room, the voice was heard again—more relaxed, lighter, without any burden.

“Really, William? Are you sure Camelia won’t be angry if you marry me?” Serena’s voice sounded spoiled, filled with light and confident teasing.

Camelia pushed the door open a little more.

The sight inside the room was like a knife stabbed mercilessly into her heart. On the bed decorated with white sheets and rose petals, William lay there without guilt, while Serena—her own best friend—was so close to him, smiling with a victorious gaze.

William smirked. “She’s just a woman whose intelligence I use to manage my company. If she weren’t smart, I would never have made her my girlfriend.”

That sentence was not spoken with hesitation. Not with regret. Not with any burden.

So light. So honest.

As if Camelia was nothing more than a tool that was needed.

Serena giggled softly, her fingers tracing William’s chest in a relaxed motion. “So after this project is finished, you will really leave her?”

William nodded without thinking. “Of course. I only need her to win tomorrow’s negotiation. After that, everything will be settled.”

Camelia felt her stomach churn. The world around her seemed to spin slowly, unsteadily. She did not want to hear any more, but her feet felt heavy, trapped in place.

William pulled Serena closer with a possessive movement. “You know I always choose what is profitable.”

The word profitable echoed in Camelia’s head.

All this time, she had believed that their love was built from struggle together. She was the one who helped arrange strategies, she was the one who saved William’s company from bankruptcy, she was the one who presented important proposals with precision and intelligence that impressed clients.

It turned out all of it was only a one-sided investment.

Her breathing became short. Nausea crawled from her stomach to her throat. With unsteady steps, she backed away from the door, then turned around and walked quickly down the corridor.

The heels of her shoes echoed loudly, breaking the hotel’s silence. Her tears blurred her vision, but she refused to let them fall there. Not in the place where her dignity had just been trampled.

She entered the elevator, pressing the ground floor button with trembling hands. The doors closed slowly, reflecting her image in the mirror—a pale face, wounded eyes.

The elevator descended, and with every floor it passed, something inside her collapsed as well.

As soon as she reached the parking area, she walked quickly toward her car. The night felt cold against her skin, in contrast to the heat burning in her chest. She got into the car, shut the door hard, then gripped the steering wheel without immediately starting the engine.

The tears finally broke.

Not loud sobs, but painful restrained cries. She closed her eyes, letting all the memories flash by—William’s smile when he first proposed to her, Serena’s hug when helping choose the ring, sweet promises about the future.

All of it was fake.

After a few minutes, Camelia wiped her tears away. Her gaze slowly changed. The wound was still there, but behind it something else began to appear—awareness.

She started the car and left the hotel without looking back.

Morning came with sunlight piercing through the curtains of her apartment. Camelia sat on the edge of the bed, still wearing last night’s clothes. She did not sleep. Her eyes were swollen, but her face now looked calmer—too calm.

The doorbell rang.

She already knew who had come.

When the door opened, William stood there in a neat suit and the smile he usually used to charm anyone.

Without hesitation, the man stepped inside and hugged her from behind as Camelia walked toward the living room. “Darling, there’s a meeting with a client this morning. You can come to negotiate, right?”

Camelia did not answer immediately. She felt William’s hands wrapping around her waist—the same hands that last night embraced another woman with passion.

She slowly turned around, staring at the man’s face.

“I’m not feeling well, William. I can’t go.”

A frown appeared on William’s forehead. “What do you mean you can’t? You’re always the best at things like this.”

His tone was not worried.

But annoyed.

“Darling, this project is very good,” he continued, trying to sound sweet. “If you can get that project, I promise we will get married immediately.”

The promise sounded different now.

Not as a commitment.

But as a reward.

Camelia smiled faintly. “Are you sure you want to marry me, William?”

William fell silent.

Only for a moment, but long enough for Camelia to see a flash of doubt in his eyes. That look quickly changed, replaced by a thin forced smile.

“Of course,” he answered. “Why are you asking something like that?”

Camelia stepped away, creating distance between them. She looked at the man as if seeing him for the first time.

“If I were not intelligent… if I could not help you manage your company… would you still choose me?”