Fiancé Cheated... So I Took His Rival’s Deal - Chapter 11: Chapter 11
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Noel scowled at his phone. Camila had no right talking back to Mom in the first place. Asking for an apology is completely reasonable—it's not like I'm caving or anything.
That's when it hit him—in their entire relationship, Camila had always been the one to fold first, the one extending olive branches after every argument. This marked the first time he'd ever reached out to her first.
His thumb hovered over the send button when he noticed it—her profile picture had vanished. Her "last seen" status and bio had disappeared too.
A cold realization washed over him. She blocked me. Noel's face darkened instantly.
"Mr. Anderson? You good? Someone get on your bad side?" Tyrell, his ever-perceptive assistant, caught the storm brewing on his boss's face.
Noel's jaw tightened as he thrust out his hand. "Give me your phone."
Tyrell blinked but handed it over without protest.
Noel navigated to WhatsApp, pulled up Camila's contact, and fired off a single question mark: [?]
The reply came seconds later—an identical punctuation staring back at him: [?]
His expression turned thunderous. [Camila, did you seriously block me?!] His fingers flew across the screen. [You've got a death wish—]
The message failed to deliver. A quick check confirmed his suspicion—she'd blocked Tyrell's number too.
"Uh, Mr. Anderson?" Tyrell peeked at the screen and winced. "Looks like Ms. Baterman caught on. She blocked me too."
Noel shot him a warning glare before snatching the phone again. This time, he dialed her number directly. Two rings later, her melodic voice came through—sweet as honey, but dripping with false cheer. "Tyrell? What's up?"
"Camila." His voice was pure gritted steel.
On the other end, Camila paused mid-step in the Traditional Medicine Center line. She checked the caller ID again—still Tyrell's number. Her voice turned arctic. "Mr. Anderson. To what do I owe this... pleasure?"
That formal address—so clinical, so detached—set his teeth on edge. "You've got some nerve mouthing off to my mother. Are you trying to—"
"So you hijacked your assistant's phone just to scold me?" Camila cut him off, her voice sharp enough to draw blood. She eyed the snaking queue ahead and exhaled sharply through her nose.
Hearing her frosty tone, Noel backpedaled instinctively. "No, I just want you to apologize to Mom."
"Apologize?" A humorless laugh crackled through the receiver. She'd expected this, but hearing him actually say the words lit a fuse in her chest. The sheer audacity still stunned her.
Same old story—every time Sofia had a tantrum, she'd run crying to Noel with twisted versions of events. And every damn time, Camila wound up swallowing her pride and bending the knee. Truth never mattered—only the ritual humiliation did.
Well, not anymore.
"Mr. Anderson," her voice could've flash-frozen the Sahara, "are you hearing yourself right now? You have zero right to demand anything from me. Newsflash—we're through. You lost any say in what I do the second those papers got signed."
The verbal gut-punch left Noel momentarily speechless. By the time the words registered, white-hot humiliation had already morphed into rage.
He opened his mouth to retaliate, but Camila's voice sliced through first—brisk, final. "If that's all, I'm hanging up."
"Wait—" The word tore from his throat.
That's when it hit him—in their entire relationship, Camila had always been the one to fold first, the one extending olive branches after every argument. This marked the first time he'd ever reached out to her first.
His thumb hovered over the send button when he noticed it—her profile picture had vanished. Her "last seen" status and bio had disappeared too.
A cold realization washed over him. She blocked me. Noel's face darkened instantly.
"Mr. Anderson? You good? Someone get on your bad side?" Tyrell, his ever-perceptive assistant, caught the storm brewing on his boss's face.
Noel's jaw tightened as he thrust out his hand. "Give me your phone."
Tyrell blinked but handed it over without protest.
Noel navigated to WhatsApp, pulled up Camila's contact, and fired off a single question mark: [?]
The reply came seconds later—an identical punctuation staring back at him: [?]
His expression turned thunderous. [Camila, did you seriously block me?!] His fingers flew across the screen. [You've got a death wish—]
The message failed to deliver. A quick check confirmed his suspicion—she'd blocked Tyrell's number too.
"Uh, Mr. Anderson?" Tyrell peeked at the screen and winced. "Looks like Ms. Baterman caught on. She blocked me too."
Noel shot him a warning glare before snatching the phone again. This time, he dialed her number directly. Two rings later, her melodic voice came through—sweet as honey, but dripping with false cheer. "Tyrell? What's up?"
"Camila." His voice was pure gritted steel.
On the other end, Camila paused mid-step in the Traditional Medicine Center line. She checked the caller ID again—still Tyrell's number. Her voice turned arctic. "Mr. Anderson. To what do I owe this... pleasure?"
That formal address—so clinical, so detached—set his teeth on edge. "You've got some nerve mouthing off to my mother. Are you trying to—"
"So you hijacked your assistant's phone just to scold me?" Camila cut him off, her voice sharp enough to draw blood. She eyed the snaking queue ahead and exhaled sharply through her nose.
Hearing her frosty tone, Noel backpedaled instinctively. "No, I just want you to apologize to Mom."
"Apologize?" A humorless laugh crackled through the receiver. She'd expected this, but hearing him actually say the words lit a fuse in her chest. The sheer audacity still stunned her.
Same old story—every time Sofia had a tantrum, she'd run crying to Noel with twisted versions of events. And every damn time, Camila wound up swallowing her pride and bending the knee. Truth never mattered—only the ritual humiliation did.
Well, not anymore.
"Mr. Anderson," her voice could've flash-frozen the Sahara, "are you hearing yourself right now? You have zero right to demand anything from me. Newsflash—we're through. You lost any say in what I do the second those papers got signed."
The verbal gut-punch left Noel momentarily speechless. By the time the words registered, white-hot humiliation had already morphed into rage.
He opened his mouth to retaliate, but Camila's voice sliced through first—brisk, final. "If that's all, I'm hanging up."
"Wait—" The word tore from his throat.
End of Fiancé Cheated... So I Took His Rival’s Deal Chapter 11. Continue reading Chapter 12 or return to Fiancé Cheated... So I Took His Rival’s Deal book page.