Chapter 1

I opened the post and skimmed through it. I was so angry I actually laughed.

Simon poured out a heartfelt confession to the female streamer, Claire.

[Claire only calls out to me so sweetly in her livestream. If that's not favoritism, what is?

[Once I've spent 100 thousand dollars on Claire's stream, I'll ask her out in person and confess!]

Then, when he mentioned me, his tone flipped instantly.

[Sigh, I do feel sorry for my fiancée. She's already thirty—not young anymore. Other than me, who would even want her?]

The comment section exploded.

[Claire only mentioned you a few times on her stream, and you fall in love? Your fiancée is really pitiful.]

[Break your engagement off already. Let that woman go. Go find your true love and lock yourselves together—I'll swallow the key!]

Simon must have been furious at the backlash. He immediately posted a screenshot of title deeds—with parts blurred out.

[Easy for you to say. My girlfriend's family owns three properties in the city center alone. Only an idiot would call off this engagement.]

That made the comments spiral completely out of control.

[Wow, living off a woman and still acting proud of it.]

[Three apartments? Wow, I'll take your fiancee and treat her so much better!]

[Goddamn!!!]

Under that post, Simon jumped around arguing with netizens, passionately firing back.

[You're just jealous! True love is not a crime! She's already so old—who else would want her besides me?]

Then came the most outrageous part. He personally pinned a comment that said: [Bro, I support you! Chase love bravely! Demand a breakup fee from your fiancée—three properties means you should get at least half! Remember: when you have no shame, you're invincible!]

Anyone with eyes could tell it was sarcasm. The comment section erupted in laughter, lining up to laugh at him.

[LOL OP, hurry up and take this advice!]

And then—my brilliant fiancé did something unbelievable.

He liked it.

Not only did he like it, he replied: [Bro, you get me! Tell me more. Her family has some background—any low-risk way to do it?]

That reply survived less than a minute before he deleted it in a panic.

All that remained was a conspicuously guilty line: [Check your DMs.]

Meanwhile, I was staring at the screenshot, my blood turning cold.

The title deeds were mine, of course.

I took the photo and sent it to him just last week.

I took a deep breath and lifted my gaze from my phone.

Across the dining table, Simon sat there neatly dressed in the custom-made shirt I had bought him. He wore a delicate pair of half-rim glasses.

Under the warm light, he looked every bit like a composed, dependable man.

Too bad that at this moment, his back was slightly hunched, his fingers flying across the screen so fast they left afterimages.

The cold glow of his phone lit his face from below, revealing flushed cheeks and a grin stretched almost to his ears.

That expression was more feverish than mine the day my company went public and its stock price skyrocketed.

Silently, I opened his profile.

His latest post was ten minutes ago. The image showed a recharge receipt from a livestreaming platform: 20,000 dollars in "Starlight Value."

The caption read clearly: [For my one and only Claire.]

In the corner of the screenshot, a familiar app icon had accidentally slipped into view.

It was the joint account we had opened specifically to prepare for our wedding.

The comment section had already boomed.

[Twenty thousand?! That's a serious number, bro… don't tell me that's for your wedding?]

[@SimonLovesClaire Dude, does your fiancée know you just gave a streamer so many starlight points?]

[Respect, blessings, and locked forever! May the streamer and this @SimonLovesClaire grow old together—please, please spare that unlucky fiancee!]

Amid the flood of insults, Simon's own reply was pinned at the very top, radiating pride between every line: [Already boosted @ClaireBowler by 20,000! True love conquers all!]

I slowly put down my phone and looked up at him.

Almost at the same time, Simon seemed to finish his online battle and raised his head in satisfaction. The feverish excitement hadn't faded from his face yet.

When he noticed me watching him, he stiffened for a split second, panic flashing through his eyes. But quickly, that well-practiced gentle mask slid back into place.

He even forced out a smile and casually picked up the soup ladle.

"What's wrong, Cheryl? Why are you spacing out? The soup's getting cold—have some. It's your favorite."

The silver spoon came toward me. Steam curled up from the bowl, briefly blurring his features.

I looked at him. At the hands I once thought were reliable. At the plain engagement ring on his ring finger—the one we had chosen together.

But all I could see was that screenshot, the twenty thousand in starlight points, and the name "Claire."

Behind the rising steam, I let out a soft laugh.

"Simon."

"Hm?" His hand paused mid-scoop.

Meeting his suddenly constricting pupils, I said calmly, "Let's call off the engagement."

The silver spoon slipped from his hand and fell straight into the soup bowl, splashing up a small burst of greasy broth.

But in his eyes, I saw something he couldn't hide—

Joy.