Dumped 99 Times, I Inherited Billions

On my wedding day, my fiancé Mason stood me up for the 99th time. He was off with Chloe, his newly hired assistant.

I went looking for Mason, only to overhear an unexpected conversation between him and Chloe.

“Mason, aren’t you supposed to be marrying Evelyn today?” Chloe asked.

Mason scoffed, a sneer twisting his lips. “Evelyn? What’s she good for besides her looks? I got her that job, I rented her apartment. Without me, she’d be totally lost.”

“I was just stringing her along. No way I’d actually marry her.”

I turned and walked away, dropping my engagement ring into a nearby trash can. Then I posted an Instagram story:

“Feeling down. Need someone to cheer me up. Don’t keep me waiting.”

For a minute, everyone thought I was just being dramatic, throwing a fit.

But no one knew that after being dumped 99 times, I could finally reclaim my rightful place as a daughter of the wealthy Davies family.

Mason called while I was relaxing in a luxury spa suite.

“What’s up?” I asked lazily, stretching out on the massage table.

“What was that Instagram story you posted this afternoon supposed to mean?”

Mason’s voice on the phone was as cold and condescending as always—the tone he always used with me.

I used to think that was just his personality—stern, serious, cold as ice. So I’d act like a humble servant, choosing my words carefully, always trying to manage his mood.

But then Chloe joined the company as his assistant. Every time she handed him documents, his eyes would soften with warmth, lighting up with a smile.

That’s when I realized Mason wasn’t incapable of smiling; he just never smiled at me.

Just then, my therapist’s polite voice broke through my thoughts. “Hello, ma’am.”

I smiled and greeted her. “You can start. Go a bit harder—my neck and shoulders have been really tight lately.”

Mason heard the unfamiliar sounds on my end and paused, his tone sharp with irritation. “Evelyn, you never used to go to places like that.”

My life used to revolve around three things: my apartment, the company, and Mason.

I didn’t just handle all the chores—I practically ran his whole life.

Mason said he loved my cooking, so I’d spend every evening after work making him all kinds of dishes.

Mason said he liked the pastries from the south side of town, so I’d wake up at five a.m. and drive three hours just so he could have them before work.

When Mason came home from client dinners, I’d happily bring him a steaming bowl of soup, telling him it was good for his stomach.

But he’d look at me with disgust. “Can you stop always being in the kitchen? My friends will make fun of me if they find out!”

“And can you please get a life of your own? Stop clinging to me all the time—it’s annoying!”

A faint smile tugged at my lips as I remembered those words. “I’m just tired from work, so I came to relax a bit. What’s the problem with that?”

Mason seemed taken aback by my attitude. He paused for a second before scoffing. “Tired from what? You spend all day doing nothing at work.”

He seemed to forget that when the company was just starting out, I was the one working nonstop at client dinners, landing deal after deal. There were even a few times I collapsed at the table and ended up in the hospital.

Lying in that hospital bed, Mason held my hand and said, “I appreciate all your hard work.”

“Once the company takes off, I’ll give you an easy role. You can relax and do whatever you want!”

And now, just one day after I hadn’t shown up for work, he couldn’t handle it.

Mason’s voice turned sharp with criticism. “Evelyn, you’re completely out of line! Unexcused absences are bad enough, but getting a spa treatment on company time? Why can’t you learn a thing or two from Chloe?”

“She’s a new employee, but she’s eager and motivated. She just closed a major deal that brought in five million for the company!”

I scoffed. “Are you sure she’s the one who closed that deal?”

The deal Mason was talking about was one I’d worked tirelessly on, developing the proposal and pulling three all-nighters in a row to satisfy the investors.

But right before the contract was signed, Mason suddenly came to me. “Evelyn, Chloe is new to the company and needs to establish herself. Can you involve her in this project and show her the ropes?”

I agreed.

But then Mason turned around and gave Chloe all the credit for the success.

Furious, I confronted him, demanding an explanation.

Mason, however, acted self-righteous. “Chloe is new and needs this deal to prove herself. You’re a senior employee—you should know how to be a team player.”

I was speechless.

It was painfully obvious who he truly cared about and who he didn’t.

Thinking this, I laughed bitterly. “Since you think Chloe is doing such a great job, then from now on, just give all the work to her.”

“Evelyn, what are you talking about?”

Even through the phone, I could picture Mason’s icy, furious expression.

But now, I didn’t care anymore.

“It means I quit.”

I said it calmly, then hung up the phone.

I was tired—I was done being his doormat.

After a moment’s hesitation, I dialed a number I hadn’t called in three years.

The call went through right away.

“I thought you’d never call me again.”

Hearing that familiar voice, my eyes teared up. “Dad.”

Three years ago, to be with Mason, I turned down my family’s arranged marriage, nearly cutting ties with my father over it.

My father had warned me back then that Mason was selfish, cold, and untrustworthy. But I stubbornly insisted Mason was my true love. I even made a deal with my father: “If Mason lets me down 99 times, I’ll agree to the family’s arrangement.”

Back then, I was so confident, certain I would win. How could anyone possibly let me down 99 times?

Looking back now, I was such a fool.

“Dad, I agree to the arranged marriage.”