Chapter 2

I met his complicated gaze, enunciating every word clearly.

"I, Charlotte Langley, hereby announce the dissolution of my engagement to Mr. Jonathan Rowe."

"I'll give you both what you want."

A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at my lips.

"Here's to your happily ever after."

The entire hall erupted in chaos!

"She's breaking off the engagement? Ms. Langley just called it off?"

"Holy crap! What kind of plot twist is this?"

"Mr. Rowe just got dumped?"

"Ms. Langley is so badass! Who needs a scumbag and his side chick anyway?"

"But Mr. Rowe..." someone muttered, glancing at Jonathan with a complicated look.

Jonathan's face turned so dark it looked like it could rain.

He was accustomed to holding all the cards and having me cater to his every whim; he had never endured such public humiliation in his life.

Especially not by me—the one he always thought was hopelessly in love with him, the one who'd never leave.

Sophie was totally stunned.

None of the drama, tears, or accusations she'd imagined happened.

I didn't make things hard for her—instead, I just gave up my place without a fight.

Her whole tragic script about "fighting the system for true love" collapsed in an instant.

Like an overzealous clown punching into empty air, she was left stranded with nothing to push against, her face a mask of utter bewilderment.

"No... that's not how it's supposed to be..." she blurted out, instinctively turning to Jonathan for support.

But Jonathan didn't even spare her a glance. His eyes were locked on me, burning with betrayal and confusion.

The host was sweating bullets, completely at a loss for how to handle the chaos.

I handed the microphone back to him with effortless grace, as if I'd just made a routine announcement, not dropped a bomb that blew the whole place up.

I lifted my skirt, ready to step off the stage.

As I passed Sophie, I paused for a moment.

In a voice only the two of us could hear, I spoke softly, with a hint of pity in my tone.

"Ms. Sinclair, congratulations."

"You finally got what you wanted—trash."

With that, I didn't spare a glance at her face, which instantly turned red, or at Jonathan, whose eyes were practically shooting flames. I walked off the stage with composed, steady steps, under the shocked, sympathetic, and curious gazes of the crowd.

The sound of my heels hitting the floor was crisp and steady.

Every step felt like I was stepping over the corpses of my past, moving toward rebirth.

I'd just sat down at the main table, barely had time to take a sip of water to steady my nerves, when a swirl of perfume drifted over from beside me.

Of course, Sophie had followed me over.

The pitiful look she'd worn was gone, replaced by a smug, triumphant grin, practically daring me to react.

Jonathan didn't come over. He was still stuck on stage, surrounded by a bunch of company execs, his face still stormy.

"Ms. Langley," Sophie said, her voice sharp and deliberately low. "Thanks for 'letting' me have him."

She practically hissed the word "let."

"But you're wrong," she leaned in, speaking in a voice meant only for my ears, enunciating every single syllable. "You aren't worthy of the depth of his soul."

My hand paused on my water glass as I looked up at her.

The depth of his soul?

Jonathan, that profit-obsessed, self-serving businessman—what depth of soul could he possibly have?

Was it the depth of his scheming, or the depth of his gaslighting?

I nearly laughed out loud.

In my last life, their whole spiel about "soul resonance" and "true love is invincible" made me sick. Now, it just sounded absurd and hilarious.

I looked at her face, flushed with excitement and smugness, and spoke calmly. "Is that so?"

"Well, hope you two stay chained together forever."

"Just don't go out and mess up anyone else's life."

Choked by my unconventional reaction, Sophie was caught off guard, clearly never expecting someone of my background to be so crass.

She took a deep breath, about to say something else.

Just then, Jonathan finally broke free from the crowd, his face stormy as he strode over.

His eyes lingered on me for a moment, full of complicated scrutiny, then shifted to Sophie, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly.

"Jonathan," Sophie instantly switched gears, putting on a pitiful, wronged look, her voice soft and fragile as she called out to him.

Jonathan didn't respond to her. Instead, he looked at me, his voice low and tight with anger. "Charlotte, do you really have to do this?"

"You're really going to embarrass me in front of everyone?"

I set my water glass down slowly, meeting his gaze. There was no trace of the love or warmth I used to have for him—just cold, distant indifference.

"Mr. Rowe."

I switched to a more formal address.

"Keep your side chick away from me."

"She disgusts me."

Jonathan's face turned ashen in an instant.

Sophie, meanwhile, was like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, her voice sharp and shrill. "Charlotte! Who are you calling a side chick? Jonathan and I are truly in love!"

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow, my gaze flicking between Jonathan and Sophie. "So, Mr. Rowe, while we were still engaged, you and Ms. Sinclair—your so-called true love—were already together?"

"Did you sleep with her?"

My voice wasn't too loud, but it was just enough for everyone nearby, who'd been eavesdropping, to hear every word.

The whole place went dead silent.

Countless eyes were like needles, stabbing into Jonathan and Sophie.

The vein on Jonathan's forehead twitched.

He never would've imagined that I, who always cared about appearances and spoke with restraint, would ask such a blunt, even crude question in front of everyone.

Sophie's face went from red to white.

"You're talking nonsense!" she shot back, her voice trembling with fake bravado.

Jonathan took a deep breath, trying to regain control of the situation. "Charlotte, I know you're angry. But Sophie is just a bit naive and impulsive. There's nothing wrong with her loving someone! Don't use your filthy mind to taint—"

"Taint what?" I cut him off, standing up to meet his gaze.

I might not have been as tall as him, but in terms of presence, I was every bit his equal.

"Taint your so-called pure love?" I finished the line that had once torn my heart apart in my previous life.

I smiled, my smile cold and full of biting sarcasm.

"Jonathan, spare me your sick excuses."

"The engagement's off."

"From now on, you and your 'naive, impulsive' true love are nothing to me."

"A whore and a bastard—a match made in hell for eternity."

With that, ignoring their kaleidoscopic expressions, I picked up my handbag and turned on my heel, striding out of that sickening venue with my head held high amidst the dead silence and countless stares of shock, admiration, and schadenfreude.

Behind me, I could faintly hear Jonathan's suppressed growl and Sophie's tearful excuses.