That Royal Betrothal

After being with Jonathan Lawson for seven years, Giselle Stone asked for their engagement to be called off. She texted him about it, only receiving a reply two hours later.

He wrote, "I'm okay with that, but we have to discuss this in person."

Giselle sent him her location. It was chilly inside the café; the sun slowly set outside, and the sky gradually darkened.

She sat there, her face pale. The moment she shut her eyes, the image of Jonathan and Charlotte Grant entangled with each other would appear in her mind. One was her fiancé, and the other was the biological daughter Giselle's adoptive parents had just found.

She had been at the hospital for an IV drip because of severe menstrual cramps. Unexpectedly, she'd stumbled upon the scene of Jonathan holding Charlotte in his arms.

Who was Jonathan? He was the heir of one of Seaworth City's most affluent families and the CEO of Lawson Group.

With company matters awaiting his decision, every second of his day was as precious as gold. Giselle usually had to schedule an appointment with him days before the date if she wanted to see him. And yet, there he was, casting everything aside during office hours to accompany someone to the hospital.

Funnily enough, she'd asked him that morning whether he had time in the afternoon, to which he'd said no. Now, it was clear that it wasn't that he hadn't had time. He just hadn't had time for her.

Giselle smiled self-deprecatingly, unable to hide the bitterness in her eyes.

Time passed particularly slowly when one waited for something. Giselle kept a hand on her belly, which was still vaguely hurting. While waiting, she scrolled through Instagram. She tensed and clenched a fist when she came across her mother's account.

Three minutes ago, Linda Tanner had posted a photo and captioned it with three thumbs-ups. Giselle zoomed in on the picture to see Charlotte looking weak while lying on the bed. To her right, a man leaned close to her. They looked intimate and affectionate.

The image only showed the man's back, but Giselle immediately recognized him as Jonathan. They'd been together for seven years, after all. He was still at the hospital with Charlotte.

This made Giselle's heart twist. It hurt so much that she almost couldn't breathe.

…

The sky had gone dark. The customers in the café left one after another; Giselle numbly texted Jonathan a few times. He read them but didn't reply.

She couldn't help scrolling upward to go through their conversation. She didn't know when things had changed, but Jonathan's replies had grown more curt and cold over time. Eventually, it had become a one-sided conversation on her end.

Could someone be busy enough that they couldn't even check their phones throughout the day? Giselle didn't know the answer, but she knew the man who'd replied to her messages immediately despite being in the shower had disappeared.

Jonathan finally arrived five minutes before the café closed for the night. He was tall and toned, his collarbones peeking from underneath his shirt, which had the top two buttons undone. His deep-set eyes carried a hint of fatigue. He approached Giselle and sat across from her.

"Why do you want to call off the engagement?"

"Why are you so late?"

They spoke simultaneously.

Jonathan was taken aback. Then, he massaged his temples and said, "Work's been busy lately. I was working overtime."

He was lying through his teeth. Giselle probably would've believed him if she hadn't caught him at the hospital with Charlotte.

She sneered. She was pretty, and her features were delicate and cool. Her appearance wasn't aggressive, but now, she was as prickly as a porcupine.

Jonathan couldn't help finding her unfamiliar. He suppressed his irritation and said, "I'm going to be busy over the next few days, Gigi. Can we discuss this when I've taken care of work?"

He and Giselle had been together for seven years. Other friends their age had already married and had kids, but they were still stuck in the engagement stage.

It wasn't that he didn't want to take things a step further. But whenever the thought crossed his mind, he couldn't help but feel suffocated at the thought of their dull and unchangeable life in the future.

After being together for seven years, he'd lost interest in his relationship with Giselle.

"You're busy, huh? Busy being lovey-dovey with Charlotte at the hospital?" Giselle showed Jonathan the photo Linda had posted.

It was a slap to Jonathan's face. His expression immediately darkened. "If I've told you this once, I've told you this countless times—she and I are just friends, Giselle! Stop being so paranoid!"

The old Jonathan would look at her with a love-filled gaze. He would never have taken such a tone with her. Now, however…

Giselle curled her lip. "If you really were just friends, why would you feel the need to lie to me and say you were working late?"

She didn't know how many lies he'd fed her. Could he have been with Charlotte each time he'd brushed her off in the past? Perhaps that was the case, but it didn't matter anymore.

"I know you don't like her. I didn't want you to think there was anything between us," Jonathan said.

Despite knowing Giselle didn't like Charlotte, he still insisted on being friends with the latter—friends who didn't keep an appropriate distance from each other. He was even willing to lie to Giselle to be with Charlotte.

Ha! Good riddance.

Giselle blinked and willed her tears away. "I've always been curious about something, Jonathan. Why did you sponsor her back then?"

Charlotte had attended the same college as them. At the time, she'd still been a poor student whose path likely wouldn't have crossed Jonathan's. However, after Giselle returned from a student exchange program abroad, Jonathan told her he wanted to sponsor Charlotte in the Lawson family's name.

Later, after Charlotte graduated from college, the Grant family found her and brought her home. Meanwhile, Giselle had gone from the heiress whom everyone envied to a fake heiress who'd stolen Charlotte's life. Everyone had waited for her to make a fool of herself.

Jonathan didn't answer Giselle's question. Instead, he kept insisting he and Charlotte were just friends. In truth, he couldn't tell what exactly he felt for Charlotte. All he knew was that the feelings she incited in him differed from how Giselle made him feel.

If Giselle wanted him to give up on Charlotte… he couldn't bear to do it.

Giselle found this whole conversation a waste of time. She said, "I'm being serious, Jonathan. Let's end things."

They were back at square one. Silence descended upon them both. Jonathan looked at Giselle, his gaze dark. After a beat, he clenched his fists and said, "You should know where to draw the line even if you want to kick up a fuss."

She shook her head. "I'm not kicking up a fuss. I mean this."

She'd been on the fence before this, but she had suddenly made her decision after Jonathan's arrival. She knew what he was like when he was madly in love with her—now that he no longer was, the contrast was stark. She couldn't lie to herself any longer.

"The Grant family won't let go of this alliance with the Lawson family so easily," Jonathan said. In other words, the engagement couldn't be called off.

"I'm not a Grant," Giselle replied. "Besides, they've wanted me to end things with you for ages."

In the past, she'd endured the pressure from the Grants because her love for Jonathan had kept her going. Now, she was tired. If he genuinely loved her, he should've married her after their graduation instead of delaying things, leaving her hanging at the age of 25.

"I'll ask you once more, Giselle—are you serious about calling off our engagement?" His eyes glinted ruthlessly, his tone icy.

She lowered her head and removed the ring on her finger. It was one Jonathan had gotten custom-made from a renowned designer when they'd gotten engaged. Their initials were carved on the inner side of the ring.

For some reason, this sight made Jonathan feel a little uneasy. Giselle dropped the ring into her cold coffee before he could stop her.

"Giselle!"

She looked at him, her gaze determined in the face of his rage. "We're over."