Flames of Betrayal

Nine years into my "non-cohabiting partnership" with Simon, his father passed away.

The first condition in his will was simple: Simon and Ella had to conceive a child.

On the day the child turned one month old, Simon would inherit his father's fortune.

Simon told me this himself—the night I walked in on them tangled in our bed.

Afterward, as he took a slow drag from his cigarette, he murmured, "Lily, just wait a little longer. Once I get the inheritance, I'll marry you."

But he went back on his word.

From then on, every time Simon planned to meet Ella at our house, he would hang a string of bells on the door.

Since his father's passing, those bells had chimed ninety-nine times.

After the ninety-ninth, the news arrived—Ella was pregnant, and their engagement party was set.

My daughter saw the invitation, hesitated, then softly asked, "Mom, is Daddy's name on this?"

I forced a smile and gently smoothed her messy hair into a neat ponytail.

"Daddy is marrying the one he loves," I said. "And I'm taking you home."

Simon never understood—I never cared about that marriage certificate.

Simon Hoffman had asked me out to dinner.

He was still tied up in a meeting, so I got to our reserved private dining room ahead of him.

While I waited, I pulled out my phone to check on flights home, hitting the peak of the summer travel season. The earliest one I could get was ten days out.

My birthday was also in ten days.

That same day, Simon and Ella Johnson were throwing their engagement party.

Well, that was one celebration I was not going to crash.

The door swung open and in came Simon, catching me off guard. I quickly locked my phone screen.

The room was large, yet he made a beeline to sit right beside me, warmly grabbing my hand.

In a flash, it felt as if I had returned to the night our non-cohabiting relationship began nine years ago. That night, he snuck into my room, gently kissed my hand, and whispered promises of a love that would last a lifetime.

However, now there was a ring on his finger—a ring I knew all too well. Given who he was, Simon was meant to have just one matching set for life.

He could not wait to be tied down to Ella.

The ring's gleam under the restaurant lights was like a dagger to my eyes.

He must have caught my gaze because he chuckled awkwardly and slid the ring off.

"Sorry... I forgot to take it off."

I kept my expression neutral. "Why bother? It's yours, isn't it?"

He paused, looking stunned, but then his phone ringtone shattered the silence. He picked up, and his face twisted into a grimace.

"A fender bender?! Is everyone okay? If you say so, but what's the doctor's verdict? Hold on, I'm on my way."

He ended the call and turned to me, his distress written all over