My Husband Regrets Marrying His Assistant

My fiance, Alexander Elrod, the most outstanding fashion designer of the 21st century, had finally agreed to marry me. He promised to propose once he won the Paris Fashion Award.

When the day arrived, I braved a typhoon to attend his celebration banquet.

There, I watched as Alexander and his assistant, Stella Monroe, kissed shamelessly in front of the cameras. Then, they proudly displayed their wedding rings.

Alexander picked up the microphone. “Stella dear, thank you for your hard work during this time. In the future, I’ll continue leading the fashion world with you, one trend after another!”

My colleagues all turned to look at me and expected me to cause a scene.

I smiled, and I was the first to applaud them. “How wonderful! Wishing you two a lifetime of happiness.”

The room erupted in shocked murmurs.

After the event, Alexander immediately dragged me aside to explain, “Stella stayed up with me for nearly half a year for the Paris Fashion Award. Her mother’s terminally ill, and her last wish was to see Stella get married. Must you take it so seriously?

“Once work is over, I’ll divorce her and throw you the grandest wedding, okay?”

I walked away without answering him.

Then, I gave my father a call. “Dad, the ten-year bet is over. I’ve lost. I’ll come home and take over the family business.”

“Evelyn Astor, must you humiliate me today of all days?”

I looked at Alexander Elrod and Stella Monroe’s intertwined hands. They were wearing the matching “Eternity” rings I had designed.

I had spent three months perfecting the sketches for that design. On top of that, I oversaw the craftsmen as they carved every detail.

I had imagined countless times how the woman’s ring would look on my finger.

Alexander noticed my gaze and quickly released Stella’s hand.

“She’s just wearing it temporarily. I’m fulfilling her mother’s wish. Can’t you be a little more understanding?”

Ten years ago, I had turned down a full scholarship from a top art school.

Back then, Alexander was a nobody. We shared a single rusty sewing machine in the basement.

I still remembered him holding my hand and saying, “When I win the Paris Fashion Award, I’ll marry you.”

A decade had passed since then.

To complete the final piece for this show, I worked three consecutive days without sleep.

On the third night, I nearly collapsed at my workbench. The sewing needle pierced my finger, and blood stained the entire piece of fabric.

“Start over,” Alexander said coldly without sparing me a glance.

On the day we had long awaited, he stood there with another woman. He wore the wedding rings I had designed and demanded that I be understanding.

Just then, Stella walked toward me timidly.

“Eve, don’t blame Alex. This is all my fault. My mother... doesn’t have much time left.”

Alexander immediately stepped in front of Stella to shield her and glare at me. “Look what you’ve done. You’ve frightened her. She’s not well.”