My Girlfriend Chases My Billionaire Dad

Hearing my girlfriend, Jessie Barney, vent to her best friend over the phone felt like a huge stone had lodged in my chest, crushing my lungs. I couldn't breathe.

Counting the three years I'd spent with Jessie, I realized I had fallen for her at first sight.

Back in college, I had accidentally seen her apply for a scholarship and learned that her family was struggling. To protect her pride, I lied and said I had applied for one too.

After graduation, when she complained about the harsh job market and mounting pressure, I secretly arranged for her to join my company. I even funneled her salary through my private account to shield her from embarrassment.

For three years, I acted ordinary to the world, but I worked tirelessly to give her the very best. Even the engagement ring she now held had been meticulously chosen and designed by me.

And yet, all my efforts ended like this.

My chest ached with despair, and just then, the phone rang. I picked up to hear my father's voice.

"Josh, how did it go? Did she say yes? I couldn't witness your proposal in person, but I sent a gift for my future daughter-in-law."

I forced my voice to stay steady. "Dad… I'm afraid I've disappointed you. She turned me down."

Alexander was stunned on the other end, offered a few words of consolation, and then hurried off to a meeting.

What Jessie didn't know was that the richest man in Hallowyn City she was determined to marry was none other than my father.

Two months ago, when her work was frustrating her, I had suggested a road trip to cheer her up. On an empty highway, she whimsically insisted on taking the driver's seat, so we swapped places.

Not far down the road, while changing lanes, she rear-ended a limousine. When I caught sight of the license plate, I jokingly nudged her. "Guess we're paying a fortune for this one."

Panicked, she jumped out and rushed to the car, her face full of worry. I opened my mouth to reassure her, but the limousine's driver stepped out first.

The moment he saw us, his expression changed instantly. Yet he asked warmly if we were hurt and visibly relaxed when we assured him we were fine.

Jessie had anxiously asked about compensation. He just laughed and waved it off. Then he drove off, leaving her standing in stunned silence.

While waiting for the tow truck, I replied to a message from my father. Jessie hovered nearby, cautiously asking, "Josh… do you know that driver? He didn't make us pay. Honestly, we should have, since it was our fault.

"I looked him up online. Even if we were paying, it would've been over 10,000 dollars! I didn't expect him to be so nice!"

Seeing that the driver was my father, recently returned from abroad, had been purely coincidental. I had planned to reveal his identity after the proposal, so I lied. "No, I don't know him."

But that small lie planted a seed in her mind. In her eyes, rear-ending that car was fate—destined by the richest man himself—and in an instant, I was discarded.