Betrayed by Him Claimed By His Rival

Samantha “Aren’t you going to touch your meal? It’s going to get cold, and I know you don’t like your food cold,” I finally said to Louis, my fiancé, after a few moments of tense silence. The room felt unnaturally still, the only sound the faint ticking of the wall clock. He had been distant ever since he returned from the office. He’d barely said a word to me, his usual warmth replaced by an unfamiliar coldness. I tried to convince myself that it was just the stress from work, that maybe running a business was taking its toll. But tonight felt different. There was a heaviness in the air, a sense of foreboding that I couldn’t shake. Louis sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair as he stared down at his untouched plate. “I’m calling off the engagement, Samantha,” he said finally, his voice cold, devoid of any emotion. “I know it’s a difficult pill to swallow, but it is what it is.” His words struck me like a bolt of lightning, my heart stuttering in my chest. For a moment, the world seemed to stop spinning. The spoon I had been lifting to my mouth slipped from my fingers, clattering onto the plate, splattering soup across the pristine white tablecloth. I stared at him, uncomprehending, as if he had spoken in a language I didn’t understand. “What?” I whispered, the word barely audible. “My love, I don’t understand. Did I do something wrong? If you don’t like the meal, I can make you something else. Please, just talk to me.” Louis’s eyes narrowed, his mouth twisting in disdain. “Don’t be ridiculous, Samantha. This has nothing to do with your silly meals. I’m on the verge of closing the biggest deal of my life, and Clara Smith, the billionaire heiress, is helping me make it happen. She loves me, and she wants something serious, something real. I’m not going to let you—or anyone else—stand in my way.” The room seemed to tilt around me. Clara Smith? The name echoed in my mind, each repetition slicing deeper into my heart. I had heard of her, of course—everyone had. The heiress to a vast fortune, beautiful, powerful, and utterly unattainable. And now she wanted my fiancé. “You’ve been cheating on me with her,” I managed to choke out, my voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and growing rage. “You’re going to throw away three years of our relationship for some business deal? For her?” Louis shot up from his seat, the force of his movement sending his chair skidding backward. He slammed his fist onto the table, the impact rattling the dishes and causing the candles to flicker wildly. “How dare you talk about my business like that? It’s how I put food on your table, how I keep a roof over your head! And don’t forget, it’s how I gave your ex-convict brother a job—the one no one else would even consider hiring!” His words were like a slap to the face, stinging and humiliating. But more than that, they unveiled a man I didn’t recognize—a man who viewed me as a mere obligation, a burden to be discarded when something better came along. My heart clenched in pain, but anger quickly bubbled to the surface, overtaking the sadness. “This isn’t going to end so easily, Louis,” I hissed, rising to my feet with a newfound resolve. “I’m going to give Clara Smith a piece of my mind.” Before he could respond, I snatched his car keys off the table, my hand trembling with a mixture of fury and adrenaline. I turned on my heel and stormed toward the door, my vision blurring with unshed tears. But just as I reached for the doorknob, a strong hand clamped down on my arm, yanking me back with enough force to make me stumble. I gasped, spinning around to face him, my heart pounding in my chest. Louis’s grip tightened, his eyes blazing with an intensity I had never seen before. “You’re going to do no such thing, Samantha,” he growled, his voice low and threatening. His hand moved from my arm to my neck, his fingers digging into my skin just hard enough to send a shiver of fear down my spine. He leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. “You are not going to say a word about this to anyone, especially not Clara. If you do, I swear I’ll make sure bad things happen to you. Do you understand?” For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The man standing before me was a stranger, someone dangerous and unrecognizable. The Louis I knew—the man I had loved, trusted, and planned to marry—was gone, replaced by this cold, ruthless version of himself. I nodded shakily, too stunned and terrified to do anything else. Satisfied, he released me and snatched the keys from my hand, his eyes never leaving mine. “You and I, we were never in a real relationship. Is that clear?” I could only stare at him, my mind reeling from the shock. With that final, cutting remark, he turned and walked out the door, leaving me alone in the echoing silence of our once-shared home. As soon as the door slammed shut behind him, the tears I had been holding back broke free, streaming down my face uncontrollably. My legs gave out, and I sank to the floor, clutching my chest as the reality of what had just happened crashed down on me. Three years of love, trust, and devotion shattered in an instant. Desperation clawed at me as I stumbled to my feet and frantically searched the house, tearing open cabinets and drawers in a wild attempt to find something—anything—to numb the pain. But every cupboard was empty, offering no solace, no escape from the searing ache in my chest. A hollow, bitter laugh escaped my lips as I wiped the tears from my cheeks. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror—mascara smudged, eyes red and swollen, hair disheveled. I looked like a woman who had lost everything. But I wasn’t going to let him have the satisfaction of breaking me. Not tonight. “Today is the last time I’ll cry over you, Louis Martinez,” I whispered to my reflection, the resolve in my voice growing stronger with each word. “Today, I’m going to have so much fun I’ll forget you ever existed.” I reached for my makeup bag, forcing my shaking hands to steady as I reapplied my foundation, hiding the evidence of my tears. A swipe of bold red lipstick, a flick of eyeliner, and I was someone else—someone who didn’t care, someone who was ready to let go of everything and just live for the moment. Minutes later, I found myself at a bar on the outskirts of town, where the dim lighting and pulsating music matched the wild, chaotic energy coursing through my veins. I walked up to the bartender, the world around me already blurring slightly. “Give me the strongest cocktail you’ve got,” I demanded, my voice strong and unwavering. Two drinks in, the burn of the alcohol warmed my insides, loosening the tight grip of pain around my heart. The world spun in a delightful haze, and for the first time that night, I felt free—free from Louis, free from heartbreak, free to be whoever I wanted to be. Feeling a surge of boldness, I climbed onto a barstool and shouted, “Who’s the hottest guy in this bar!?” The words echoed through the room, drawing amused looks from the patrons. Some laughed, shaking their heads, but I didn’t care. I was done caring. The bartender, grinning like he had seen it all before, pointed toward the far corner of the room. “That guy over there,” he said, nodding to a man sitting alone, sipping his whiskey in quiet contemplation. I squinted, trying to focus through the alcohol-induced fog. Even in the dim light, I could see he was a vision—tall, broad-shouldered, with an air of mystery that only added to his allure. His face was shadowed, but I could make out the strong lines of his jaw and the way he seemed utterly absorbed in his thoughts. Perfect. I staggered over to his table, my steps unsteady but determined. The room spun slightly as I leaned down, my hand reaching out to grasp his jawline. His skin was warm under my fingers, his stubble rough against my touch. I tilted his face up to meet mine, staring into his eyes—deep, dark, and mesmerizing. My heart skipped a beat, and I couldn’t help but blush at how utterly gorgeous he was. He raised an eyebrow, his expression one of polite curiosity mixed with mild concern. “Is there a problem, miss? Is there something I can help you with?” “Shut up and kiss me.” I leaned in and pressed my lips against his. At first, he hesitated, his lips remaining still against mine. But then, slowly, he gave in, his kiss growing warmer, more passionate. The world around us faded away as we lost ourselves in the moment, our mouths moving together in a way that was both thrilling and comforting. After a few moments, he pulled back slightly, his eyes still locked on mine, searching for something. I held his gaze, my fingers still caressing his jawline, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my touch. “I want you to make me yours tonight,” I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of defiance and raw, desperate need. A slow, predatory grin spread across the stranger’s lips, his dark eyes glinting with something that sent a shiver down my spine. He leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered, “Careful what you wish for, Samantha Blake.” The sound of my full name, spoken with such deliberate precision, sent a jolt of shock through me, cutting through the alcohol-induced haze. I recoiled slightly, my heart pounding in sudden panic as the realization hit me—this wasn’t just some random guy at the bar. He knew exactly who I was. I pulled back, my eyes wide with confusion and a growing sense of unease. “Wait a minute… who the hell are you, and how do you know my name?” My voice trembled, the confidence I had tried to project crumbling under the weight of his knowing gaze.