He Chose His Ex, I Chose the Billionaire

Recently, Ariana Cooper received a text alert.

[Account ending in 8456 spent 5,000,000 dollars at 19:27. Transaction type: overseas transfer. Recipient: Selene Bailey. Note: 'Compensation.' Current balance: 1.57 dollars.]

Ariana froze where she stood.

Just days ago, the company had run into a temporary funding gap. She'd wanted to use this card, but Caleb Miller had stopped her with unusual seriousness.

"Ari, this is our wedding fund—the money we've been saving since we started dating. The amount isn't large, but it's special. Unless we're not getting married, we shouldn't touch the money."

He had sounded sincere, as though he were truly planning for their future.

If that was the case, why had Caleb moved the money without telling her? And why transfer it to Selene with the note "compensation"?

Selene was merely Miller Group's recent business partner—a single mother who'd returned with a child. Aside from work, there should have been no overlap between them.

To prove her love, Ariana had broken free from her family's control and walked away from her identity as a Horghen City heiress. After graduating from Emerson University, she stayed behind in Emerson City as an ordinary girl, choosing to struggle alongside the upright, penniless Caleb. She started from nothing with him, wagering her youth and future on the hope of a life together.

She never wanted him to delay their marriage because of some unspoken burden.

Ignoring his reminder before his business trip—don't call me—she dialed him eleven times in a row before he finally picked up.

"Caleb, did you transfer the five million from our card to Selene?" she demanded. "We agreed never to touch the wedding fund. Why did you use that money?!"

The other end of the line was noisy, like a tourist attraction. Caleb was silent for a long moment, as if something had just occurred to him.

"Ari, let's postpone the wedding," he said at last. "Selene knows a top overseas client who needs short-term capital. The project has an excellent return. This is the best choice."

Ariana panicked. "But you said that money was for our marriage. You even said we shouldn't touch it! What client is it? I'll talk to them!"

Already exhausted from recent arguments with Selene, Caleb spoke in a cold, heavy tone.

"That's enough. What background do you have to be making a fuss like this? What status do you have to negotiate in high society? Without Miller Group giving you a platform, what value do you even have? For the company's growth, I decide where the money goes. We're not married yet—why are you meddling so much?"

Every word erased her years of sacrifice, dripping with disdain for her background.

Ariana almost thought she'd misheard him.

Then a woman's voice drifted clearly through the phone, deliberately close, as if meant for her to hear.

"Caleb, Michael wants ice cream. I can't step away—could you go buy some…?"

Caleb seemed to cover the receiver and spoke hurriedly, placating.

"I drank too much today. I'm tired. Don't take what I said to heart. The client's waiting for me to talk business. Get some rest, okay? Stop making trouble and try to be understanding."

With that, he hung up.

Ariana's heart went completely cold.

After all these years, she finally saw Caleb for who he really was—a polished egoist who wrapped emotional betrayal in the language of business logic.

When Miller Group had been on the brink of bankruptcy more than once, she'd used her design copyrights to help him pay off debts.

For years, she'd worked day and night for the company's growth, juggling both design and finance. She'd been hospitalized multiple times from sheer exhaustion. He treated all of it as her obligation—and even looked down on her for staying behind the scenes, claiming she had no connections or resources.

Meanwhile, Selene only needed to give a few speeches at the company to earn his unreserved praise.

Almost without thinking, Ariana walked into Caleb's bedroom. For years, he'd insisted on sleeping separately under the excuse of not interfering with each other's work.

She turned on his backup laptop. Thankfully, the password was still her birthday. He had once told her, "Ari, I'll never have secrets from you."

After a brief hesitation, the computer logged directly into his WhatsApp.

The contact list was sparse. Pinned at the top wasn't a client group—but a contact labeled "My Love."

She clicked the profile picture.

It was of a woman standing beneath the Eiffel Tower.

It was unmistakably Selene.

This was her private number.

Ariana felt like she was losing her mind.

Fighting off the dizziness, her hands shaking, she opened Selene's Instagram.

The latest post—uploaded an hour earlier—was a selfie paired with a screenshot of chat messages.

[I was too willful a few days ago and fought with my darling. He had no choice but to express his feelings with a necklace and five million, so I'll be nice and keep them for him. Turns out some things people spend their whole lives chasing are effortless for me. I've thought it through—this time, I'm staying firmly by your side.]

The necklace was the very one she'd seen on Caleb's computer last month—when he'd claimed it was something he was choosing for a client.

In the chat screenshot, Caleb's avatar sent this message: [Selene, I'm sorry. Back then, I wasn't strong enough, and your family tore us apart. I didn't know you were already pregnant. Now I finally have the ability—I can't bear to let you suffer anymore. Give me some time. I'll settle things with Ariana soon and give us a future.]

Ariana's eyes burned.

Can't bear to let Selene suffer?

Then what about her—the one who had suffered through everything with him?

The man who'd once jumped into a river to save her, ready to die with her if it came to that. The penniless Caleb, who swore to spend his life by her side, bonded to her by their shared refusal to be controlled by family or fate—was all of that a lie?

An earlier post, from three days ago, showed Selene posing with a three-year-old boy. The caption read: [Once you're done with this busy stretch, our son and I will be waiting for you in Lutetia.]

The timestamp was the very day Caleb left on his business trip.

They even had a child together.

When Selene first visited the company, Caleb had arranged a long-term partnership for her. To show goodwill, Ariana had even helped look after Selene's son, Michael Bailey.

Looking back now, she felt like a complete joke.

Scrolling further, she saw post after post—luxury gifts, carefully staged rituals, sweet daily moments. The screen overflowed with Caleb's indulgence of Selene, perfectly echoing that viral saying online, "Love is like tending a flower—she's thriving because her husband takes such good care of her."

And her? She'd been repeatedly criticized by Caleb for lacking femininity, for being rigid and dull. She worked herself into a stomach condition for the Miller Group, only to be met with his casual dismissal.

"You're so strong. This little hardship is nothing for you."

Every time she wanted to dress up, every time she asked him to buy jewelry or clothes as an anniversary keepsake, he would say, "I don't want other men seeing you look beautiful. We might as well save the money in the wedding fund."

Turned out, they were all just excuses for not wanting to spend effort on her.

Ariana's breathing turned shallow. She felt close to passing out.

"A woman who suffers alongside a man will be the first one he abandons once he succeeds."

She had lived that sentence herself.

Or perhaps success wasn't even required—betrayal had already come midway.

Half of the Miller Group's success was built on her blood and sweat.

She refused to accept this. And she would never hand it over willingly.

Back then, Caleb had been refined and upright, gentle yet resolute. In a barren world, all he'd possessed was an ambitious, single-minded heart as his only stake. Even so, she'd willingly fallen for him—lost herself in those clean eyes that were as bright as stars.

Now that the stake was gone, there was no reason for her to keep holding on.

After calming herself, she dialed a number she hadn't contacted in years.

"Mom," she said softly, "you said back then… that as long as I gave up on Caleb and accepted the family's arrangement, I'd be allowed to come home. Does that still stand?"

"Ari?"

The moment she heard her mother's voice, years of suppressed grievance surged up. Her throat tightened.

"Mom… I regret it."

She had let her parents down.

There was a long silence on the other end. Her mother seemed unsurprised. Ever practical, she replied slowly, "This marriage was arranged by your grandfather years ago. Since you've made your decision, you'll get engaged to Ethan Skye next month. Find a time to have dinner with the Skye family and offer an apology. You're an adult—you should understand this isn't a game."