My Fiancé’s Secret Love is My Cousin - Chapter 2: Chapter 2

I shook my head gently. "I'm fine. You should have the soup first."
Brian hesitated for a second, then lifted the thermos and downed the soup in one go. His amber eyes burned with warmth—and something else, something urgent. His lips, flushed pink from the heat of the broth, glistened in the soft light.
With a boyish grin, he held up the empty container. "All gone."
Then he took my hand, leading me into the private lounge attached to his office. His voice was tender, almost reverent.
"Thank you for the soup. Why don't you rest for a while?" He guided me onto the plush bed, tucking me beneath the thick, luxurious comforter before settling in beside me. His arms wrapped around me, firm and steady, his chin resting lightly on my head.
"Still cold?" he murmured into my hair.
I hummed in response, closing my eyes as the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulled me. Time blurred as I lay there, wrapped in his warmth—until the slow, even rise and fall of his chest told me he'd fallen asleep.
A dim glow from his phone on the nightstand caught my eye. Curiosity gnawed at me. I reached for it, fishing it out from the sheets. His assistant's name flashed on the screen.
I typed in my birthday—nothing. His birthday—still locked.
Frowning, I flipped the phone over. No dent on the back. This wasn't his usual one.
Our engagement date? Wrong again.
Then it hit me. Laurel.
My fingers moved on their own, testing dates tied to her. After a few tries, the screen unlocked.
A bitter smile twisted my lips. Of course. This was her phone—the one he used to talk to her.
The assistant's message glared up at me:
[Mr. Rocha, the transfer deed for the beachfront tower is finalized.]
Attached was a file. I tapped it open.
Owner: Laurel Gibbs.
I scrolled further. Estate documents. Mansions. Limited-edition cars. The beachfront property was just the beginning—Brian had been funneling fortunes to her.
Then I saw it: a certificate for an engagement ring.
My breath froze.
It was the ring—the one I'd loved when we were picking out wedding bands. Back then, Brian had brushed it off with a tight smile.
"My wife-to-be deserves something bigger. This one's too plain."
The sales associates had swooned over his "generosity." To please him, I'd chosen something flashier—even though my heart had ached for that simple, elegant design.
Three days ago, Laurel had posted a live photo. No caption. Just that ring on her finger.
I played the audio. Crowd noise nearly drowned it out, but Brian's voice cut through clear as glass:
"I knew you'd love it."
The truth slammed into me like a truck. He hadn't wanted it for me—because it was always meant for her.
My fingers clenched around the phone, nails biting into my palm. Silent sobs wracked my chest. When I finally looked down, my knuckles were bone-white, the screen dark again.
I set it back on the nightstand. Decision made.
By tomorrow, I'd be gone.
I booked a one-way ticket to Dubai. No looking back.
The next morning, Brian was already gone.
His secretary stepped in, balancing a tray of toiletries with a polite smile.
"Good morning, Miss Duncan. Mr. Rocha left last night—urgent business trip. He asked me to let you know the engagement party's postponed for two days."
I nodded absently, staring out the window as the sun climbed over the city.
Two days.
He wouldn't find me by then.
By the time he returned, I'd be gone—vanished from his world for good.
Rubbing my tired eyes, I waved a hand.
"Just leave it there." My voice was hollow.