Paid to Disappear on His Proposal Night - Chapter 9: Chapter 9
You are reading Paid to Disappear on His Proposal Night, Chapter 9: Chapter 9. Read more chapters of Paid to Disappear on His Proposal Night.
The second my dad stopped talking, the entire restaurant burst into applause. People started heckling Darryl and Courtney, shouting insults across the dining room. Their disgusting behavior had clearly rubbed everyone the wrong way. Courtney, red-faced with humiliation, practically dragged a shell-shocked Darryl out by his collar.
I'd figured Darryl might reach out, but damn—he moved faster than I expected.
Not even twenty-four hours after the scene at the restaurant, my phone rang. Since I'd blocked his number, he'd called from some random burner phone. Classic.
"June, we need to talk. Meet me somewhere?"
"Hard pass."
"Come on, June—I'm begging you here."
"Beg louder. Still not interested. Say whatever crap you called to say right now or I'm hanging up. My time's worth more than this."
Honestly? I wanted to slam my phone against the wall. But experience told me he'd just keep harassing me with different numbers if I didn't hear him out.
Hearing the finality in my voice, Darryl started panicking. "Okay! Okay, just—don't hang up!"
"June, I swear to God, you're the only one I've ever loved. Courtney? She was just... a stepping stone. I only dated her to get connections through her dad—better job opportunities, more money. The plan was to marry her, stick it out a few years, then divorce her once my career was set so I could come back to you. Everything I did was for us!"
"And let's be real—if you hadn't lied about your family being broke, I wouldn't have had to make those choices. So really, we're both at fault here. Why don't we just wipe the slate clean and—"
I actually laughed out loud. The sheer audacity of this man. Not only was he trying to gaslight me into taking blame, but he genuinely thought this pathetic excuse would make me swoon back into his arms.
"Ohhh, I see," I fake-pouted, then dropped my voice to Arctic levels. "Here's a newsflash: I don't love you. Never will again. So how about you pour all that energy into making things work with your 'stepping stone' and get the hell out of my life? Lose my number."
"You're lying! It's only been a few days—you can't just fall out of love that fast! June, please—"
"Let me school you on something, Darryl. Hearts don't break on some gradual timeline. Mine shattered the second I saw you for the gold-digging cockroach you are. And let's cut the crap—you're only crawling back now because you found out my dad's loaded. If he really was just some struggling baker, would you be here? Didn't think so. Your 'regret' is worthless. All I feel for you now is revulsion."
Dead silence on his end. I hung up and blocked the number before he could wheeze out another excuse.
Tossing my phone onto the nightstand, I flopped back into bed, weirdly... fine. Maybe I'd finally reached the "completely over it" phase. Sleep hit me like a freight train.
I assumed that was the end of it.
Spoiler alert: It wasn't.
Two days later, my phone buzzed with a text:
"June, I'm outside your house. Not leaving until you talk to me."
My first thought? Bullshit. My parents' hilltop estate wasn't exactly on Google Maps, and I'd never brought him here. Only my inner circle knew this address.
But curiosity got the better of me. I stepped onto the balcony—and there he was, lurking at the gates like some rejected rom-com protagonist.
Ugh. Time to shut this down permanently.
I marched downstairs and yanked the door open. "How the hell did you find this place?"
Darryl's eyes were practically spinning like slot machines as he ogled the property. "You kept ignoring me, so I tailed your dad from his office. Jesus, June—you lived like this the whole time? Why'd you hide it? Were you never serious about us?"
Watching him drool over the mansion, his true colors glaringly obvious, I realized it was time to nuke this delusion once and for all.
I'd figured Darryl might reach out, but damn—he moved faster than I expected.
Not even twenty-four hours after the scene at the restaurant, my phone rang. Since I'd blocked his number, he'd called from some random burner phone. Classic.
"June, we need to talk. Meet me somewhere?"
"Hard pass."
"Come on, June—I'm begging you here."
"Beg louder. Still not interested. Say whatever crap you called to say right now or I'm hanging up. My time's worth more than this."
Honestly? I wanted to slam my phone against the wall. But experience told me he'd just keep harassing me with different numbers if I didn't hear him out.
Hearing the finality in my voice, Darryl started panicking. "Okay! Okay, just—don't hang up!"
"June, I swear to God, you're the only one I've ever loved. Courtney? She was just... a stepping stone. I only dated her to get connections through her dad—better job opportunities, more money. The plan was to marry her, stick it out a few years, then divorce her once my career was set so I could come back to you. Everything I did was for us!"
"And let's be real—if you hadn't lied about your family being broke, I wouldn't have had to make those choices. So really, we're both at fault here. Why don't we just wipe the slate clean and—"
I actually laughed out loud. The sheer audacity of this man. Not only was he trying to gaslight me into taking blame, but he genuinely thought this pathetic excuse would make me swoon back into his arms.
"Ohhh, I see," I fake-pouted, then dropped my voice to Arctic levels. "Here's a newsflash: I don't love you. Never will again. So how about you pour all that energy into making things work with your 'stepping stone' and get the hell out of my life? Lose my number."
"You're lying! It's only been a few days—you can't just fall out of love that fast! June, please—"
"Let me school you on something, Darryl. Hearts don't break on some gradual timeline. Mine shattered the second I saw you for the gold-digging cockroach you are. And let's cut the crap—you're only crawling back now because you found out my dad's loaded. If he really was just some struggling baker, would you be here? Didn't think so. Your 'regret' is worthless. All I feel for you now is revulsion."
Dead silence on his end. I hung up and blocked the number before he could wheeze out another excuse.
Tossing my phone onto the nightstand, I flopped back into bed, weirdly... fine. Maybe I'd finally reached the "completely over it" phase. Sleep hit me like a freight train.
I assumed that was the end of it.
Spoiler alert: It wasn't.
Two days later, my phone buzzed with a text:
"June, I'm outside your house. Not leaving until you talk to me."
My first thought? Bullshit. My parents' hilltop estate wasn't exactly on Google Maps, and I'd never brought him here. Only my inner circle knew this address.
But curiosity got the better of me. I stepped onto the balcony—and there he was, lurking at the gates like some rejected rom-com protagonist.
Ugh. Time to shut this down permanently.
I marched downstairs and yanked the door open. "How the hell did you find this place?"
Darryl's eyes were practically spinning like slot machines as he ogled the property. "You kept ignoring me, so I tailed your dad from his office. Jesus, June—you lived like this the whole time? Why'd you hide it? Were you never serious about us?"
Watching him drool over the mansion, his true colors glaringly obvious, I realized it was time to nuke this delusion once and for all.
End of Paid to Disappear on His Proposal Night Chapter 9. Continue reading Chapter 10 or return to Paid to Disappear on His Proposal Night book page.