Chapter 2
I took a deep breath and yanked the door open.
Linda froze mid-swing.
Behind her was Andrew, dressed in a crisp white suit. He should've been the dashing groom today, yet his face was livid, his eyes blazing with rage.
"Emma, are you done making a scene?" he gritted out.
I ignored him and slapped the A4 sheet I'd printed out overnight in his arrogant face. "Here's the list of everything I've put into this home.
"I covered the 150-thousand-dollar renovation, all the furniture and appliances. After depreciation, you owe me 120 thousand. The BMW 5 Series is in my name, so leave the keys here. The watch you're wearing is mine. Give it back right now."
My voice was low, but every word cut like ice.
Andrew stumbled back from the slap. Linda snatched the paper from him, took one look, and totally lost it.
"What?" she snapped. "You shameless witch, you wrecked the wedding and dragged our family's name through the mud. We haven't sued you for emotional damages, and now you have the nerve to demand money from us?"
Andrew snapped out of it, ripped the boutonniere off his chest, and hurled it to the floor.
He jabbed a finger at me, yelling, "You're ditching the wedding over a little money? I can't believe I thought you were different. You're nothing but a gold-digger."
He twisted the facts and shifted all the blame onto me, huh?
I laughed out of sheer rage. Staring at his contorted face, I felt nothing but utter revulsion.
"Yeah, you're right," I shot back, locking eyes with him and making sure every word hit where it hurt. "I'm a gold-digger, and I wouldn't waste a second on a broke loser who can't even pay back 120 thousand."
"You!" Andrew's face flushed dark red in an instant, his precious sense of superiority completely crushed by my casual 'broke loser' jab.
Just as Andrew shook with rage and Linda was about to lunge at me, the sound of steady footsteps came from the elevator.
A deep, resonant voice cut through the air. "What disgraceful conduct."
It wasn't loud, but it carried authority.
The hallway, which had been a mess of shouting and chaos, went dead silent in an instant.
I turned toward the voice.
A man stepped out of the elevator, rocking a tailored dark gray suit. He was tall, with sharp features and a cool, collected vibe.
His eyes were deep, his nose high-bridged, lips pressed into a thin line. He exuded the imposing aura of someone long accustomed to being in command.
It was Andrew's uncle, James Grant.
I knew him, yet he felt like a stranger all the same.
In the three years I dated Andrew, I'd caught glimpses of James at Grant family gatherings.
He always took the head of the table. He rarely spoke, yet everyone in the Grant family treated him with total respect, even Maria, Andrew's stuck-up grandma.
I used to think James was only Andrew's mysterious uncle who did business overseas, until one day Andrew bragged and let slip that James was the one really running the show at Grant Group.
When Linda saw James, she shrank back, all her bluster vanishing in an instant. She lowered her head, muttering, "James."
Andrew turned totally spineless right then and there, instantly shrinking into himself.
He stepped forward with a pitiful, tattling tone. "Uncle James, you're here in time. Emma's acting crazy. She called off the wedding for no reason and now she's even asking me for money."
James didn't glance at Andrew or Linda. His gaze cut past them and settled on me.
His eyes were deep, revealing no hint of emotion. Yet they held an uncanny penetrating power, as if they could see straight through every layer of my pretense and humiliation.
"Hello, Ms. Lane," he said.
This was the first time we'd spoken properly.
His voice was closer and clearer now, carrying a calm composure that somehow put me at ease.
I straightened up, met his gaze, and replied, "Mr. James Grant."
He gave a slight nod, his eyes landing on the crumpled list in my hand. He barely glanced at it before turning to Andrew.
His voice was flat, but there was no room for argument. "Ms. Lane footed the bills. Make sure she gets her money back. Our family can't afford such disgrace."
Like that, he put an end to all the drama.
Andrew's face went ghostly pale. He opened his mouth, trying to argue. But under James's icy stare, he couldn't get a single word out.
Linda, burning with resentment, wanted to protest, "She ruined the wedding and..."
But one sharp look from James made her swallow her words on the spot. The warning in his eyes left her too afraid to press the matter further.
Then, James turned back to me, his voice noticeably softer. "Ms. Lane, might I have a word with you? Let me apologize for Andrew."
I blinked, confused. Why was he apologizing for Andrew? What standing did he have to do so?
But James' calm and fair demeanor stood in stark contrast to Andrew's shallowness and selfishness.
Something stirred inside me, and before I realized it, I nodded. "Okay."
*****
James and I sat in a quiet café nearby.
He ordered me a latte and got straight to the point. "Andrew doesn't deserve you."
I was stunned.
I thought he'd try to smooth things over, telling me to let it go, or maybe come to negotiate for the Grants.
I looked up at him, confused.
He seemed to read my mind and continued, "The postnuptial agreement Andrew showed you was merely the 1.0 version."
My heart sank. How did he know about the agreement?