His Best Friend Slandered Me

I built them up. I gave them everything. And they destroyed me. I thought love meant sacrifice. I thought friendship meant loyalty. But I was wrong. I bankrolled my boyfriend, helping him rise from nothing, believing in his dreams. I took my best friend under my wing, giving her everything she never had. But while I was away, enjoying a much-needed girls' trip—the one she conveniently backed out of—they were busy betraying me in the worst way possible. I found out by accident. A simple call from his phone, meant to tell my best friend I was back, turned into the moment that shattered my world. "My baby." Those words on the screen made my stomach drop. And then I read more. "I’m just after her money. Once I get enough, I’ll leave her. I’m collecting from her and her father. I’ll use her and dump her." Every message felt like a dagger to my heart. The man I loved, the friend I trusted—they had been plotting against me all along. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. What do I do? Do I confront them? Do I scream? Do I fall apart? I want to wake up. I want this to be a nightmare. But it’s not. This is my reality. And I don’t know what happens next.

My husband planned to sell my body to a stranger so that he could have a perfect reason to divorce me. When I heard his phone conversation, I didn’t wait for him to catch me, I hit the loudest club in town at once. Then something I didn’t expect happened. I slept with his forbidden best friend, a man who hated my guts like crazy yet he claimed me like I was his soulmate. His jaws tightened as he whispered “He didn’t deserve you. You were supposed to be mine.”

After returning from a three-month business trip, I rushed to meet my fiancé and resolve our dispute over my best friend, Elena. Elena’s ex-husband left her penniless and broken. I offered her my apartment, helped her "find herself" and accompanied her through nights of tequila-soaked sobbing. My fiance, Julian, hated it. Or so he said. "She’s a leech, Clara," he’d snap, watching her try on my designer coats. "She doesn't even know how to make toast without calling for help. Are you her best friend or her maid? People like her don't want to heal; they just want a free ride." She's lost everything, Julian," I argued."Without her, I wouldn't have survived my mother’s death. Please, just be patient for me." I let myself in quietly. The house was still, the air smelling of expensive candles and something else—something sweet and floral that wasn't mine. I walked toward the master suite, expecting to find Julian asleep. Instead, the door was ajar. The wine bottle I had brought to surprise Julian slipped from my hand, leaving me paralyzed for a moment. Elena was draped across my silk sheets. Julian was hovering over her, expertly shucking oysters—my favorite—and feeding them to her with a look of doting, soft-eyed tenderness he hadn't shown me in months. "You're so much better at this than she is," Julian purred. "Because she’s cold, Julian," Elena whispered, brushing a stray hair from his forehead. "She’s all business. She doesn't know how to satisfy men in bed." I stood in the doorway, my whole self trembling, not in cold but in pure rage and disgust. "I hope the oysters are fresh," I said, my voice cutting through the room like a blade.

My best friend and I were in relationships with the brothers from the Wilson Family, and we both got pregnant at the same time. She flaunted her relationship publicly, making everyone in Junopia know that Rick had left the monastery for her. On the other hand, I kept silent about my relationship with the heir of the Wilson Family. Thus, everyone mistakenly thought I was single. That was until my best friend saw my pregnancy report. In a fit of rage, she rallied a group of friends, stormed into my dorm, and vandalized my room with food waste. "I thought you were my best friend, and here you are, trying to steal my man," she accused. Not only did she live-stream this accusation, trying to paint me as the other woman, but she also spiked my chicken soup, hoping to get rid of my unborn child. In defiance, I poured the contaminated soup over her head. "Just so you know, Rick isn't the only Wilson brother," I retorted. Later, Rayden, the man who controlled Junopia, wrapped his arm around me and declared icily, "I've heard troubling rumors about my wife being called a mistress. We need to talk."

My husband, Damien, loved me deeply—so deeply it felt like I was his whole world. Everyone said he was the perfect husband. Yet, he betrayed me. Not once, not twice, but three times. The first time was three years ago. His closest friend, Aaron, died saving him. Damien kept it from me and secretly married Aaron’s girlfriend, Vivian—on paper. I was heartbroken and ready to leave him. That night, he sent her abroad and fell to his knees, begging me. “Estelle, Aaron gave his life for me. I must take care of his widow. That marriage certificate is just a promise of security for Vivian. Once I’ve avenged Aaron, I’ll divorce her. The only woman I love is you.” I forgave him. The second time came the following year. At a press conference, Damien publicly introduced Vivian as the Mafia leader’s wife. He pulled me aside to explain. “Vivian is the only daughter of the Young family—the Mafia. Our two families joined forces for one reason only: to get revenge for Aaron. I’ve already made arrangements with her. Once we’ve dealt with our enemies, I’ll divorce her and marry you right away.” Once again, I believed him. Then came the third time. Someone drugged Damien at a banquet, and he spent the night with Vivian. He hid it from me until just two weeks ago, when I caught him at the hospital, sitting beside her during a prenatal checkup. That was when I finally learned the truth. He lowered his head, unable to meet my eyes, and spoke in a low voice. “Estelle, it was an accident. Once she gives birth, I’ll send her away. My parents will raise the child, and I swear—neither of them will ever appear in your life again.” In the name of love, Damien pushed me to compromise again and again. Yet now I know. There’s no future left for us. It’s time for me to walk away.

The day after I got engaged to my boyfriend, his best friend locked me up. He smiled as he unbuttoned his shirt, stepping closer with each passing moment. "Mich, I'm your true destiny," he said, his voice low and menacing. As I struggled to resist, I lost my footing and tumbled down the stairs. When I woke up, all my memories were gone. The handsome stranger standing before me noticed my confusion and kindly offered an explanation. "You're my fiancée, but you cheated on me," he said.