The Intern Who Stole My Fiancee

During the Labor Day team retreat, I had booked out the entire top floor of the Grand Summit Hotel. Yet, when my fiancee, Serena Wagner, found out, she was enraged.

"Matthew Grant, are you out of your mind? Spending over 800,000 dollars to rent a place for one day? Since you're so rich and have nowhere else to splurge, just let me help you spend it!"

Then, she called over our intern, Dylan Foster. She pointed at him and started yelling at me. "He only makes 6000 a month as an intern. Why don't you give him this money instead?"

I looked at my colleagues standing nearby, their faces clearly uncomfortable.

I replied calmly, "His salary isn't low compared to industry standards. Besides, the team-building budget belongs to everyone. Why should I give it all to him?"

However, the moment those words left my mouth, Serena exploded. "I'm your finance director and your future wife! Of course, I get to control where your money goes. If you don't agree, then let's call off the engagement!"

With that, she stormed off with Dylan.

I silently picked up a bottle from the floor and poured myself three glasses.

The first glass was for her, for being with me through the first half of my life.

The second glass was for me, for having a clear conscience in this relationship.

The third glass was for both of us. I wished us well as we parted ways and moved on with our separate lives.

Just as I reached home, my phone lit up with a flood of credit card notifications. Every charge was from high-end luxury stores.

At first, I thought Serena Wagner was blowing money out of spite. However, when I opened Instagram, I saw her latest post, which consisted of nine photos with a caption that read, [What he won't give, I will!]

Every single photo featured men's luxury items, ranging from cufflinks to ties and suits, as well as wallets, belts, and dress shoes.

I gripped my phone tightly, realizing that all those charges were for things Serena had bought for Dylan Foster. How could she spend my money on gifts for him without a shred of guilt?

I could not even remember the last time Serena had shopped for me so thoughtfully. Whenever I wanted to go shopping with her, she would get impatient and say I had an assistant for that.

"I'm your fiancee, not your nanny. Just have your assistant handle those things, can't you?"

She always brushed me off with similar excuses.

I lit a cigarette and took a deep drag, the nicotine bitter on my tongue. The cigarette burned down to ash, just like my relationship with Serena.

I had once dreamed of marrying her and spending my life with her.

I smoked through the entire night, and Serena did not come home at all.

When I arrived at the office the next day, I realized that I had become the subject of everyone's gossip.

Someone