My Ex-Fiancé Went Crazy When I Got Married

1 When Clint broke off our engagement, everyone said my life was over. I had been with him for five years, and in order to please him, my reputation was already in ruins. No one would want to accept a woman like me. Then, when news spread that Clint had a new lover, everyone expected me to beg and plead for him to take me back. But they didn’t know that I had voluntarily replaced my younger sister and was about to go to Washington for an arranged marriage. Before I got married, I returned the treasure chest Clint had given me. The blank wish card he had personally given me when we were young. I left cleanly and without a trace. But one day, much later, Clint suddenly brought me up: “It’s been so long, has Frida died?” And just as I was “half-dead,” I was awakened by my new husband’s kiss. “Frida, darling, we agreed on four times—no less…” —————————————————————————— The day Clint suddenly said he wanted to marry me, I had not seen him for three months. The last time we met, I overheard him telling his friends he was already tired of me. The whole room laughed. They mocked me for being with him for five years, for ruining my reputation just to please him, and still being cast aside like an old shoe. The three months I spent at The Brown Family were not easy. A few days ago, Draven had gotten drunk and hurt me. The wound on my back still ached. So when Clint suddenly called and asked me to come over, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. I hurriedly wore the bangles he gave me when we got engaged and rushed over. By the time I reached the villa, Clint was already a little tipsy. He was half-lying with his eyes closed, his head resting on a young girl’s lap. The girl looked like she was still a student, innocent and pure. When she saw me enter, she quickly tried to get up to leave, but Clint held her wrist. “Stay,” he said, without even opening his eyes. His hand gave a slight tug, and the girl’s body leaned over. She obediently lowered her head and let him kiss her. He released her hand and cupped her chin, kissing her deeply. I stood at the entrance, gripping my handbag, unsure of what to do. After a long while, I forced myself to calm down and pretended to be indifferent. I looked out the window and said, “I’ll take a walk in the garden first and come back later.” As soon as I finished speaking, Clint suddenly chuckled. The girl sitting next to him quickly got up, saying, “I’ll go out first. Let Sister come in.” This time, Clint didn’t stop her. He only played with her hand for a while before reluctantly letting go. “It’s cold outside. Don’t catch a cold.” The girl smiled lightly, nodded, and her long, black hair covered most of her shy, red face. As she passed by me, she politely greeted me, calling me “Sister,” before saying goodbye. I nodded back with a smile. She was very young, with clear eyes, and her timid demeanor reminded me of my younger sister. “Frida, come here.” Clint leaned back on the sofa and patted the seat next to him. The large, intricate crystal chandelier above cast a brilliant light, making his narrow and sharp features seem almost unreal. For a moment, I was dazed and felt an indescribable discomfort. Clint’s eyes, still slightly red from the alcohol, glistened like peach blossoms in the light. His collar was slightly open, revealing marks on his neck and collarbone. “That girl just now is Rachel.” I nodded. “Mm, I know.” “What do you think of her?” I thought for a moment before answering seriously, “She’s very innocent, very pure, very obedient.” Clint nodded. “Doesn’t she remind you of yourself five years ago?” I froze. Five years ago, I had just started college. As Clint used to say when he was chasing me, “You were so pure it was almost heartbreaking.” Back then, he really loved me. And he spoiled me greatly. He treated me like something to be cherished, afraid I’d melt in his mouth. I was the longest relationship he’d ever had. I even got engaged to him before I graduated from college. But unfortunately, The person I am now is completely different. My reputation is ruined. Everyone in New York knows how far I’ve gone to cling to this golden bachelor. I did countless shameful things just to keep him. At that time, he said he had grown tired of my pure innocence. To please him, I forced myself to change, to fit into his filthy world. I adjusted to his strange tastes. He wanted someone seductive, who liked being passionate, bold, and open. I endured the discomfort and satisfied every one of his desires. But in the end, my compliance only earned me his disdain. “Frida, you really are cheap.” “You’re worse than a prostitute in bed.” “Look at you now, do you still have any dignity left?” He asked me for a breakup. Draven used my younger sister and brother as leverage to threaten me. I tried to kill myself by slashing my wrists, drinking poison—all sorts of things. Now, he tells me he likes Rachel. Likes her because she reminds him of me five years ago. I want to laugh, but I can’t. “I really like her. I want to give her a status.” “She’s not like you, she’s so timid, so pure, I have to take responsibility.” I want to say something, but my lips feel like they’re glued together. I can’t make a sound. After a long pause, I forced a smile. “Okay, I understand.” “As for your family, I can help you talk to them.” “No need. I’ll figure it out myself.” “Then, it’s up to you.” He stood up unsteadily, pulled something from his pocket, and tossed it onto the coffee table. My eyelid twitched violently. It was the token we exchanged when we got engaged. A keepsake from my late mother—a heart-shaped pendant. Clint had given me his mother’s wedding gift, a pair of bangles. The very ones I was wearing on my wrist now. “Take off the bangles.” “Our engagement is void.” I looked up at him. His eyes, once warm, were now cold as if covered in frost. So, when he said he wanted to marry, it wasn’t because he wanted to marry me. Five years together couldn’t compare to the fleeting thrill a new lover brought. I thought I would collapse, be sad. But I didn’t shed a single tear. I calmly took off the bangles and handed them back to him. Clint raised an eyebrow, a little surprised. But he still took them, turned around, and left without a second glance.

2 News of Clint breaking off our engagement spread quickly. The beating I had anticipated never came. Instead, I lost contact with my siblings abroad once again. I knew this was my father’s usual way of venting his anger. He and my stepmother started searching the city for a suitable match. They wanted to marry me off to someone to maintain the wealth of the Brown Family. But rumors began to circulate, ones that were ugly and hard to hear. They said that over the years, I had done whatever it took to please Clint. That I was used up, unfit for marriage, and could no longer bear children. No man in New York would want someone like me. My father grew more irritable, and my days became harder to endure. Two months after Clint and I broke off the engagement, another explosive rumor emerged in our circle. Clint was engaged again—this time to Rachel. For her, Clint even went against his parents’ wishes. The gossip-mongers made sure the news reached me. I knew what they wanted to see. They were just bored, longing for the drama I used to bring. “Frida, I think Clint still has feelings for you,” someone messaged. “You’re having a hard time, right? Why not beg him? Clint’s a softie—you might win him back if you cry or pretend to harm yourself.” “Rachel can’t compare to you, Frida. You’re so much more beautiful.” I didn’t reply to any of the messages. Instead, I focused wholeheartedly on preparing for a marriage proposal of my own. A week ago, I knelt for an entire night. Finally, my father agreed to let me take my newly adult sister’s place and marry into Washington’s Koch family. I’d heard about Andre, the eldest son of the Kochs. He was known for his ruthless nature but also wielded immense power—a king without a crown in Washington. It was said that his temper was violent, fueled by his physical disability. But I wasn’t afraid. To escape the Brown family and give my siblings their freedom, I would gladly pay the price. Besides, there was no place left for me in New York. Washington might hold a sliver of hope. Before the wedding, I arranged a meal with my closest friend. During a trip to the restroom, I unexpectedly ran into Rachel. She looked nothing like the timid girl I’d first met. With perfectly applied makeup, a classic Dior black dress hugging her figure, and a slender cigarette between her lips, she exuded sophistication and charm. “Miss Frida, I suppose you’ve heard by now,” Rachel said, smiling provocatively. “Clint and I are getting engaged.” Looking at her, I thought back to the shy, innocent girl I’d first seen. For some reason, a wave of melancholy washed over me. “Yes, I’ve heard,” I replied. Rachel’s smile deepened. “Frida, are you jealous?” “I heard you lost three children for him. All those years, you stooped so low to keep him. Didn’t work out, did it?” She leaned casually against the windowsill, her eyes brimming with disdain. I looked at her coolly. “Miss Rachel, as you said, you only heard. Girls shouldn’t spread baseless rumors about one another.” Rachel let out a derisive laugh. “It’s not a rumor if it’s all over New York.” I didn’t want to waste any more words on her and turned to leave. But Rachel’s voice turned sharp and mocking. “Frida, not all girls are the same. Your lack of self-respect—didn’t your mother ever teach you better?” My steps froze at the mention of “mother.” The word sent a surge of heat rushing to my head. Without thinking, I turned and slapped her. “Miss Frida…” Rachel was stunned for a moment, then covered her face, tears streaming down as she began to cry. “I know Clint and I getting engaged must upset you, but you can’t just hit me…” “I understand you’re hurt, but love can’t be forced.” “Clint doesn’t like women as indecent as you. That’s not my fault…” She sobbed pitifully, but every word felt like a dagger to my heart. “I know your mother died young, and no one taught you manners. Miss Frida, I won’t hold this against you…” Grinding my teeth, I raised my hand to slap her again. But Clint caught my arm in a firm grip. “Frida, apologize to Rachel,” he demanded. “I won’t,” I said, standing straight, pale-faced, with lips just as ashen. But my eyes burned bright, fierce, and unyielding.

3 Clint seemed surprised. Over the years, he’d seen many versions of me. The obedient and gentle me. The naive and affectionate me. The hysterical, tearful me. I’d laughed, cried, and played coy in front of him. But I had never been as calm and detached as I was now. Pushing Rachel aside, Clint approached me, his face emotionless. “Frida, this is the last time I’ll say this. Apologize to Rachel.” I looked him straight in the eye and suddenly laughed—a laugh full of finality and defiance. “Clint, I’ve told you already. I won’t apologize. I’d rather die than apologize.” The crisp sound of a slap echoed through the empty hallway. Clint froze for a moment, stunned by what had just happened. Rachel, clutching her cheek, stared at me, equally incredulous. I, however, slowly raised my hand to cover the burning half of my face, my eyes gradually filling with tears. “Frida…” Clint took a step forward instinctively. I immediately stepped back. His hand, which had been raised as if to comfort me, fell back to his side. His expression hardened. “Frida, you brought this on yourself,” he said coldly. “If you’d apologized earlier, I wouldn’t have hit you.” Clint’s voice was low and hoarse. “You know I don’t hit women. In all the years we were together, I never laid a finger on you.” “But today, you shouldn’t have laid a hand on Rachel. I like her. This isn’t her fault.” “Frida, stop causing trouble and preserve what little dignity you have left.” Clint wasn’t one to speak much, but today, he seemed to have a lot to say. Yet I didn’t hear a single word. My eyes, red and brimming with tears, couldn’t stop spilling. I tried desperately to hold them back, but they kept falling, uncontrollably, in large, hot drops. Clint’s fists clenched tightly, his brows furrowed. Rachel approached him, her voice soft. “Clint, let’s go. It’s not worth it.” Clint took her hand, but his gaze remained fixed on my face. “Frida, stop bothering Rachel. And don’t appear in front of us again.” “This is my final warning.” After saying this, he didn’t leave immediately. He stood there, as if waiting for my response. I didn’t say a word, keeping my head slightly lowered, letting the tears flow as though trying to drain my lifetime’s worth. After about thirty seconds, Clint finally walked away with Rachel. As he turned, I spoke softly. “Fine. I swear, I’ll never appear before you or Rachel again in this lifetime.” Clint’s tall figure paused briefly, but he quickly resumed walking forward, never looking back. Rachel, however, glanced back at me. Her eyes were still teary, but her lips curled into a smug smile. I slowly lowered my hand. It’s over, I thought to myself. Five years of entanglement, of a love and hatred deeply rooted in my heart— All severed in this moment. Now, I could leave, completely unburdened, with no regrets. When I got home, I received a flood of messages and calls. Most were screenshots from Rachel’s social media. The centerpiece was her engagement ring. I exited the app without replying and didn’t answer any of the calls. My face was still swollen. I took some ice to soothe it. When I returned, there was a new notification of a bank deposit. Curious, I opened it, only to be stunned by the string of zeros. Before I could count, my phone rang. The caller ID displayed two words I had saved myself: Mr. Andre. It was his first call since our marriage was arranged. My heart raced as I took a deep breath and answered. “Miss Frida, did you receive the funds?” “Yes,” I replied. “But, Mr. Andre, you’ve already sent …” I said softly, wondering if someone on his end had made a mistake. “Before was for your family,” he replied calmly. “This money is for you.” I clutched the phone, stunned into silence for a moment, then spoke softly. “Mr. Andre, there’s no need for this. I…” “You’ve had a prior engagement, and your reputation isn’t perfect. I know,” he interrupted. “It doesn’t matter.” His voice was deep and soothing, carrying an unexpected sense of reassurance. I recalled the rumors about him—his ruthless methods, his unpredictable temper, his violent tendencies. But at this moment, none of that was evident in his tone. “As you said, that was in the past,” he continued. “Leave it behind, Miss Frida. It’s irrelevant now.” “You’re about to marry far away. Buy yourself whatever you like to take with you to Washington.” My eyes grew warm, tears threatening to fall again. But this time, I smiled slightly. “Thank you, Mr. Andre.” The marriage arrangement with the Koch family was kept entirely under wraps. This was at Andre’s request. The Koch family’s representatives had already arrived in New York. With them here, my family dared not stir any trouble. As a result, no one in New York knew I was about to leave. Three days before my departure, all my belongings were packed. On my vanity sat an exquisitely crafted treasure box and a yellowed, blank wish card. The treasure box was a gift from Clint during his courtship. It had nine layers, filled with jewelry and trinkets. The blank wish card was his thank-you gift to me when he was twelve. Of course, he had long forgotten. I once thought about using the card to make him marry me. But in the end, I couldn’t bear to waste my life on someone like him. The jewelry was far too valuable, so I packed it to return to him. The wish card bore his personal seal, so it too had to be returned. After carefully packing both, I called Clint’s assistant. “These are valuable items. Please ensure he receives them personally,” I emphasized repeatedly. Though polite, the assistant’s tone carried impatience. “Miss Frida, let me offer you some advice: don’t waste your time.” “Clint is about to get engaged. Let’s all move on.” He thought I was scheming to reconcile with Clint. I wanted to explain, but he had no interest. Tossing the box into the car trunk, he drove off without another word.