Trash Fiancé, Meet My Revenge - Chapter 5: Chapter 5
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Damien released his grip in pain, helplessly watching as Wyatt pulled me protectively behind him.
"My surname is Wu, and she's my fiancée!" Wyatt declared.
"Exactly what gives you the right to interfere?" Damien spat, glaring at Wyatt with barely contained fury.
But Wyatt remained eerily calm.
"This morning, you claimed you didn't know Claire's whereabouts because you'd already broken up," he countered.
"As her employer, I now have both the responsibility and the right to protect her. That's my position."
Wyatt locked eyes with Damien, a silent warning to restrain himself.
Damien's jaw clenched before his tone unexpectedly softened.
"Claire, I know I was wrong. Five years together—doesn't that count for anything?" His bitter smile faltered as he searched my face.
"Not even close," I shot back, refusing to let him guilt-trip me.
"You lost any right to forgiveness the moment you let my mother die with regrets."
I tilted my head, feigning curiosity. "Since you adore your precious 'little sister' so much, why not marry her instead?"
Damien choked on his words before rushing to explain. "Victoria's just family! She's stubborn, but her heart's in the right place—"
"Save it," I cut him off coldly.
Some things never changed. His "little sister" would always come first.
A long silence passed before Damien rasped, "Then what about the love I gave you these past five years?" Tears streaked his unshaven face.
I studied him with mixed emotions before gripping his arm and steering him toward the door.
"Consider me unlucky."
SLAM! The door shook as I threw my weight against it.
Five years. Five years of playing housemaid, catering to his every need while enduring his sister's constant sabotage. Five years of preserving his fragile ego.
And he dared ask what he'd given me?
If this wasn't bad luck, I didn't know what was.
The calls started that night—dozens daily. I eventually relocated to a new apartment just to escape.
Funny how people only value what they've lost.
When stalking my phone failed, Damien tried storming the office. Kudos to corporate security—they blacklisted him on the spot.
Undeterred, he flooded me with s, diamond rings (sometimes twice daily), and even bribed coworkers to spy on me.
"What's Damien offering? I'll double it," Wyatt announced to my wide-eyed colleagues during one such attempt.
My friends nearly combusted. "Since when were you and the CEO a thing?!"
The rumors exploded after Wyatt addressed the entire company:
"Moving forward, we prioritize employee wellbeing—including privacy. Anyone caught leaking personal information will be terminated."
A perfectly reasonable policy... with unmistakable undertones.
A month later, I'd perfected my escape routine: elevator to garage, straight into Wyatt's waiting car.
Until today.
Damien materialized at the garage entrance, looking like he hadn't slept in weeks—sunken eyes, unkempt stubble, clothes hanging off his frame. The aloof prince was gone.
Spotting me, he lurched forward, frantically signaling Wyatt to stop. After a pause, the window rolled down.
"Something you need?" Wyatt's tone could've frozen hell.
Damien produced a creased invitation. "Grandpa's ninetieth birthday. He misses you." His voice cracked.
I checked my calendar automatically. He wasn't lying.
"I'll be there," I said, taking the envelope. I owed Elijah that much—his kindness to Mom was unforgettable.
But this changed nothing between me and Damien.
"You two seem... close," Damien ventured, eyeing Wyatt with forced casualness.
Wyatt adjusted his glasses, glancing at me.
"We're good. No need for concern," I answered smoothly.
Damien flinched like I'd struck him. He'd meant them, not me. My response confirmed his worst fear.
As he stumbled away, the truth finally seemed to hit him:
He'd lost me for good.
"My surname is Wu, and she's my fiancée!" Wyatt declared.
"Exactly what gives you the right to interfere?" Damien spat, glaring at Wyatt with barely contained fury.
But Wyatt remained eerily calm.
"This morning, you claimed you didn't know Claire's whereabouts because you'd already broken up," he countered.
"As her employer, I now have both the responsibility and the right to protect her. That's my position."
Wyatt locked eyes with Damien, a silent warning to restrain himself.
Damien's jaw clenched before his tone unexpectedly softened.
"Claire, I know I was wrong. Five years together—doesn't that count for anything?" His bitter smile faltered as he searched my face.
"Not even close," I shot back, refusing to let him guilt-trip me.
"You lost any right to forgiveness the moment you let my mother die with regrets."
I tilted my head, feigning curiosity. "Since you adore your precious 'little sister' so much, why not marry her instead?"
Damien choked on his words before rushing to explain. "Victoria's just family! She's stubborn, but her heart's in the right place—"
"Save it," I cut him off coldly.
Some things never changed. His "little sister" would always come first.
A long silence passed before Damien rasped, "Then what about the love I gave you these past five years?" Tears streaked his unshaven face.
I studied him with mixed emotions before gripping his arm and steering him toward the door.
"Consider me unlucky."
SLAM! The door shook as I threw my weight against it.
Five years. Five years of playing housemaid, catering to his every need while enduring his sister's constant sabotage. Five years of preserving his fragile ego.
And he dared ask what he'd given me?
If this wasn't bad luck, I didn't know what was.
The calls started that night—dozens daily. I eventually relocated to a new apartment just to escape.
Funny how people only value what they've lost.
When stalking my phone failed, Damien tried storming the office. Kudos to corporate security—they blacklisted him on the spot.
Undeterred, he flooded me with s, diamond rings (sometimes twice daily), and even bribed coworkers to spy on me.
"What's Damien offering? I'll double it," Wyatt announced to my wide-eyed colleagues during one such attempt.
My friends nearly combusted. "Since when were you and the CEO a thing?!"
The rumors exploded after Wyatt addressed the entire company:
"Moving forward, we prioritize employee wellbeing—including privacy. Anyone caught leaking personal information will be terminated."
A perfectly reasonable policy... with unmistakable undertones.
A month later, I'd perfected my escape routine: elevator to garage, straight into Wyatt's waiting car.
Until today.
Damien materialized at the garage entrance, looking like he hadn't slept in weeks—sunken eyes, unkempt stubble, clothes hanging off his frame. The aloof prince was gone.
Spotting me, he lurched forward, frantically signaling Wyatt to stop. After a pause, the window rolled down.
"Something you need?" Wyatt's tone could've frozen hell.
Damien produced a creased invitation. "Grandpa's ninetieth birthday. He misses you." His voice cracked.
I checked my calendar automatically. He wasn't lying.
"I'll be there," I said, taking the envelope. I owed Elijah that much—his kindness to Mom was unforgettable.
But this changed nothing between me and Damien.
"You two seem... close," Damien ventured, eyeing Wyatt with forced casualness.
Wyatt adjusted his glasses, glancing at me.
"We're good. No need for concern," I answered smoothly.
Damien flinched like I'd struck him. He'd meant them, not me. My response confirmed his worst fear.
As he stumbled away, the truth finally seemed to hit him:
He'd lost me for good.
End of Trash Fiancé, Meet My Revenge Chapter 5. Continue reading Chapter 6 or return to Trash Fiancé, Meet My Revenge book page.