Result of Greed

The moment I agreed, Sean came out of the bedroom carrying a suitcase. It was as if he had packed it a long time ago. He then said, "I'll take you there now."

There was a hint of coldness in my eyes. Was he really that eager to hand his own fiancée over to someone else?

Sean pulled me into his arms and rested his chin on top of my head as if he had noticed my mood. Then, he said, "Honey, I just want you to go sooner so you can come back to me sooner, too."

Then, he held my face and laughed softly. "You're overthinking things again, aren't you? If it weren't for my best friend, I would never let you go back to your old work."

He gently urged me into the passenger seat and said, "I'll have someone sort through the rest of your things and send them over after packing them up. Just be yourself when you're at his place and treat it like your own home."

He was so considerate that he seemed nothing like the Green family's usually cold and retrained heir.

In the past, he would never have cared so much about me. He had only tossed me a credit card and said, "I show my love with money. Spend as much as you want."

Back then, I had taken that as the most romantic confession in the world. But after seeing his group chat with his friends last night, I finally understood.

Money had never meant much to Sean. When he gave me money, it was no different from him paying his employees. It had never meant anything more than that.

In the car, Sean's phone screen lit up. It was another message from the group chat: [You're really willing to hand a woman like Blossom White over to someone stiff like Ethan? Look at those long legs, that big chest, and that slender waist…]

Sean replied without a care: [Do you want her too? I need to keep Anita Sanders company this month. I won't ask about Blossom during this time.]

So, he would quietly let any of his friends have me during this month if they asked? I could feel the bitterness spread in my mouth. So bitter that I could literally taste it in my mouth.

With a cigarette between his fingers, he gave an amused glance at the message asking whether he loved me.

[Love a surrogate? I think she's filthy.]

So, while he said he did not mind and did not care, he had always thought I was filthy to the core, deep down.

Dim light fell across the side of his face through the car window, and I quietly traced his features with my eyes.

This was going to be the last time.

Noticing my stare, Sean put down his phone and patted the top of my head. "What is it? Is my little fiancée nervous?"

His smile was charming as he said, "Relax. Just treat it like when you used to be a surrogate girlfriend."

After that, he said so many tender words that sounded nothing like him for the first time.

"Honey, you can't let this fake relationship with my best friend turn real. I'll lose my mind."

"Honey, you're the only one I love."

In the past, no matter how hard I tried, I could not get him to say "I love you" even once. Now, for Anita's sake, those words poured out of him as if they cost nothing.