Chapter 1

Elliot's POV

I received a reply almost immediately, saying, "I'm on my way," along with a screenshot of the navigation route.

I set my phone down calmly, only to look up and find Eva Sinclair standing a few steps away, staring at me. A second later, she frowned and said, "Delete it."

I froze.

Without waiting for a response, she snatched my phone, and, with practiced ease, opened my photo gallery and deleted the picture I'd just taken of the appointment slip. Only after checking my messages to make sure the image wasn't saved there as well did she hand the phone back.

"It's for appearances."

A bitterness rose in my chest. This wasn't the first time she'd taken my phone.

Over the seven years we'd hidden our relationship, Eva had imposed countless rules in the name of protecting her image. Checking my phone was one of them.

After dates, she'd check my phone. After our engagement, she checked my phone. Even after we were intimate, she'd always check my phone.

She was terrified I'd keep photos of us or somehow leak evidence of our relationship and ruin all the effort she'd spent keeping us a secret.

In seven years, Eva and I had taken less than a hundred photos together, and every single one of them was locked away in a safe at home. Without her permission, I couldn't even revisit the memories of our relationship.

For the sake of appearances, she treated her own fiancé like a criminal. What a joke.

I smiled bitterly and held up my phone, showing her social media post. I asked, "So, marrying Zach and making it official was for appearances too?"

Eva glanced at the screen and nodded as if the answer were obvious. "Yes."

The atmosphere was tense. Just then, Zach Jones quickly stepped in to smooth things over.

"It's my fault. I was worried people wouldn't believe it, so I suggested using hard proof to show the public. I didn't think about how it would make Elliot feel. Eva, maybe we should delete the post. I'll just say the photos were edited. It doesn't matter if people at work make fun of me…"

Eva grabbed Zach's wrist, then turned to look at me, disappointment clear in her eyes as she spoke. "Elliot Young, Zach is one of the best PR consultants in the industry. He's trying to help us avoid public scrutiny. Stop judging him through your own narrow-minded perspective.

"As for the marriage certificate, we can always get a new one later. This isn't the time for you to demand special treatment."

The veins on the back of my hand bulged. A cold sneer escaped me.

So, in her mind, going public with Zach was considered professional, whereas actually getting married to my own fianceé was me asking for special treatment.

Just like the anniversary dinner reservation I'd queued five hours for, only for her to give the table to Zach.

Just like the honeymoon I'd spent months planning, only for her to reward Zach with the trip as a year-end bonus.

Just like the project I'd poured two years of my life into, only for her to credit Zach with the success.

Every time I objected, Eva accused me of abusing our relationship for personal gain and expecting special treatment.

If our relationship existed only as an excuse for her to favor Zach openly, then I didn't want that kind of special treatment anymore.

Clutching the appointment slip, I sat back down.

Eva seemed to mistake my silence for an attempt to pressure her. She sighed, then slid my wedding ring off Zach's finger.

Then, she said to me, "Elliot, I know you've waited seven years, and I know you've sacrificed a lot. But my career is taking off right now. I can't give you everything you want. Just be patient a little longer. Once things settle down, I'll marry you, okay?"

She gently took my hand and pushed the ring onto my ring finger, but it stopped at the knuckle.

I looked down at the ring, which was a size too small, then said softly, "This is someone else's ring. It doesn't fit me. And there are some things I can't keep tolerating."

Eva didn't even look up. Instead, she pushed harder.

A dull pain shot through my finger as an angry red mark appeared beneath the ring.

"If you can't tolerate it, it means you simply haven't tried hard enough."

The ring was on my finger. But my heart ached deeply.

Ignoring Eva's satisfied expression, I opened my private account. There was a new message from just a minute ago.

"I'm waiting at a red light. I'll be there in 15 minutes."