At our engagement party, my famous pop-star fiancée lost a game of Truth or Dare. The dare was to feed someone in the room a shot of liquor, mouth-to-mouth. Without a second thought, she chose her rumored billionaire lover. Everyone in the room turned to look at me, shocked. But I didn’t care. I even pulled a hotel key card from my pocket and tossed it over: "Get pregnant, Serena. That's your only ticket into the billionaire empire you've always dreamed of." It was our eleventh anniversary, and also the night of my engagement to Serena Vance. I had prepared fresh flowers, a diamond ring, and a grand banquet. But under the dim lights, my fiancée’s cheeks flushed as she took a sip of whiskey, sank into Carter Sterling’s embrace, and fed it directly into his mouth. They locked lips, kissing passionately for a full ten minutes before pulling apart. Serena's lips were swollen and red from the intensity. Everyone in the room stared at me. Their eyes were filled with amusement, mockery, and pity. "Is Ryan really going to take this lying down?" "What else can he do? Fight Carter Sterling?" "He wouldn't dare." A wave of mocking laughter echoed through the hall. Carter wrapped his arm around Serena’s waist provocatively, raising an eyebrow at me as if marking his territory. "Don't take it personally, man. It’s just a game." He was a billionaire CEO. I was just an underappreciated songwriter. Even if I minded, what could I do? But strangely, I didn't feel a spark of anger. Instead, I felt a wave of relief, like a heavy burden had finally been lifted. For the first time in eleven years, I saw Serena for who she truly was. I set my glass down and smiled back. "Why would I mind? Have your fun." Serena froze, clearly not expecting this reaction. "Ryan, don't start acting jealous. It was just a game." "Sure," I replied casually, signaling the others to keep playing. Seeing my usual submissive attitude, Serena stopped pushing. After all, I had always been at her beck and call. She never had to care about my feelings. Soon, another round ended, and Serena lost again. Someone looking for drama asked, "If Ryan weren't in the picture, would you marry Carter?" Serena's expression shifted. She obviously hadn't expected that question, but she quickly lowered her head and gave a shy, blushing, "Yes." Once again, all eyes landed on me. This time, I was the first to clap. I even pulled a hotel key card from my pocket and tossed it onto the table. "Get pregnant, Serena. That's your only ticket into the billionaire empire you've always dreamed of." Hearing this, Serena assumed I was just being petty. She frowned, snapping in annoyance, "I told you, it’s just a game! Do you have to make a big deal out of everything?" My own engagement party. A venue I had spent weeks personally decorating. Yet, my fiancée was kissing another man and admitting she’d rather marry him. It was pathetic. In the past, I would have thrown a fit, causing a huge scene. Serena would get angry, storm off, and refuse to come home until I begged for her forgiveness like a stray dog. Only then would she look down on me and throw me a bone. But tonight, I felt absolutely nothing.
From that day on, Serena and I fell into a cold war. Using "work" as an excuse, she came home later and later, until she stopped coming back entirely. I knew she was with Carter. After all, whenever, wherever, under any circumstances, Carter only had to snap his fingers, and Serena would run to him. Whether it was our anniversary or my birthday, she would leave without a second thought. In the past, I would have lost my mind. I would have stopped eating, stopped sleeping, and searched the entire city for her. I would torture myself imagining her with another man, driven mad by jealousy. But now, I didn't care. A few days later, just as I was drifting off to sleep, the beep of the smart lock at the front door woke me up. Serena and Carter walked in together. She was completely drunk, her designer dress torn and messy. That dress was bought with the money from three months of side gigs I worked, saving every penny. Back then, I had been so excited to give it to her, but she had looked at it with utter disgust, saying a cheap dress didn't match her status as a rising star. Now, she was finally wearing it—only to get drunk and wild with another man. Carter looked down at me coldly. "There are paparazzi outside. Make sure you clear her name on Instagram." In the past, whenever Serena got into a scandal or got caught with Carter, I was the one who cleaned up her mess. Her fans used to call me "the queen's most loyal golden retriever." Looking back, that title was incredibly insulting. I spared Carter a cold glance, then looked directly at Serena. "Why should I do it? Did I tear her dress?" Serena frowned. She probably didn't expect me to mock her twice in a row. "Ryan, are you seriously going to keep score right now?" Carter sneered. "Look at the time. Serena is wasted. Instead of taking care of her, you're picking a fight with me?" On the surface, his logic seemed flawless. I had to hand it to Carter; his gaslighting skills were top-tier. Hearing his words, Serena’s eyes welled with tears as if she were the victim. "Yeah, Ryan. Carter was nice enough to bring me home, and you're treating him like this? Are you even a man?" I had never seen anyone "nicely" escort someone straight to their bed. I stayed silent. Serena, her eyes red, leaned her weight onto Carter, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Carter, since he doesn't trust us, let's just leave." Carter smirked at me, his eyes dripping with triumph. "But there are paparazzi outside," he murmured. "Let them take photos. I don't give a damn." With that, she grabbed Carter's hand and pulled him toward the door. When she noticed I didn't move an inch to stop her, shock and anger flashed in her eyes. I knew what she wanted. She wanted me to fight Carter out of jealousy. She loved being worshipped on stage, and she loved being fought over off stage. My sudden indifference was breaking her ego. I waved lazily. "Remember my advice. Get pregnant. A baby is your only shot at securing that bag." Then, I shut the bedroom door. But the drama didn't stop there. Before I fell asleep, my phone buzzed with a video message from an unknown number. I clicked it. Though blurry, it clearly showed a man and a woman passionately tearing into each other. The woman was wearing the exact dress I had bought Serena. Soon, the video showed them tangled together. Even an idiot could tell what they were doing. So, they had been caught on camera, which was why they came back to me to use me as a cover-up. I ignored it. A few minutes later, a text popped up: "Two million dollars."
It was a paparazzi blackmailing me. I rolled my eyes and blocked the number immediately. Whether Serena’s scandal leaked or not had absolutely nothing to do with me anymore. Years ago, the first time she was caught kissing her sugar daddy, I spent all my savings and even sold the house my parents bought for my future wedding to cover it up for her. Now, I wouldn't spend a single dime on her. Besides, her affair with Carter was an open secret anyway. Who cared if it went public? But the fallout went far beyond what I expected. When I woke up the next morning, the video was indeed trending on Twitter. The comments were a mess, but her PR team and fans quickly flooded the tags to bury it. Just when I thought the storm would pass, Sterling Group’s official account released a statement. But it wasn't a denial. Instead, they dropped a bombshell: Carter Sterling was getting engaged. The fiancée, however, was not the famous pop star Serena Vance. Serena's fans went absolutely wild. They swarmed the Sterling Group page, cursing Carter out, calling him a cheating bastard who abandoned their "queen." Some fans suddenly remembered me, posting that I was the only one who truly loved Serena. Oh, so now they wanted me to play the backup boyfriend? "Are you kidding me?" I muttered, rolling my eyes. Just then, the front door clicked open. Serena walked in. She looked exhausted, her eyes swollen from crying. "You saw it?" she asked quietly. I nodded. "It’s hard to miss when it’s all over my feed." Serena threw her bag onto the floor and suddenly rushed over, throwing her arms around me. "Ryan, Carter and I were just putting on a show. There’s nothing between us! You know how the industry is, I couldn't afford to offend him." I never knew she could act so well off-camera. If Carter hadn't dumped her, she wouldn't have even remembered I existed. "Let's get married, Ryan. Please don't leave me." Once, I had dreamed of walking down the aisle with her, spending the rest of our lives together. But she had drained my love, slowly crushing every bit of affection I had for her. Now, her proposal was nothing more than an attempt to make Carter jealous. The second Carter waved her back, she would run to him without looking back. "Let's break up." I pushed her away, looking at her coldly. Serena froze, tears streaming down her face. "What did you say?" "I told you, Carter and I were just acting! I only love you! Why do you have to be so dramatic?" Serena’s voice spiked an octave. Looking at her righteous indignation, I almost questioned if I was the one who cheated. Even now, she didn't realize that people don't wait around forever, especially after being hurt over and over again. I might have been a simp, but I wasn't pathetic. "This has nothing to do with Carter. I just don't love you anymore, Serena. We're done." With that, I walked into my bedroom and locked the door. I had thought it through over the past few days. I couldn't waste my talent on her anymore. I was thirty now. It was time to find my own purpose and career. I had much more important things to do.
During our cold war, I wrote a song for myself and posted it on my Instagram. My account used to be dedicated entirely to Serena. This sudden personal post shocked everyone. Especially with my caption: "Turning thirty. Ending an old chapter, stepping into a brighter future." It was a clear, public announcement that Serena and I were over. Very quickly, the post went viral. "What an ungrateful loser. If it weren't for Serena, who would listen to his trash music?" "Even if our queen doesn't marry Carter, she’s way too good for this simp." My comment section was flooded with hate. But soon, logical netizens stepped up to defend me. "Without Ryan’s songwriting, your queen is just a glorified high-end escort." I glanced at the comments and closed the app. These words didn't affect me. As long as I had real talent, I had nothing to fear. The next morning, I woke up coughing from a strong smell of smoke. In the kitchen, Serena was holding a spatula, frantically trying to make breakfast. Looking at the messy kitchen I had just cleaned, irritation flared up inside me. "What do you think you're doing?" Serena looked at me, trying to sound sweet. "I wanted to make you breakfast." We had been together for eleven years, and I was always the one serving her. When she was dieting, I spent hours cooking low-carb meals. When she was sick, I stayed up all night nursing her. When she was jobless, I went out drinking with producers to get her gigs, even drinking myself to stomach ulcers. When she was on tour, I would stay awake for days managing her schedule. But she had never done a single thing for me. This sudden change was bizarre. Seeing my cold expression, Serena held out her hand, looking like a scolded child. "I burned my hand." I gave a cold grunt, turned, and walked away. Serena chased after me, grabbing my wrist. "Please believe me. I won't ever talk to Carter again." I shook her hand off, looking at her calmly. "It has nothing to do with me. We broke up."
I ignored her, grabbed my laptop bag, and headed to a record label office. When I finished my meetings, I received a Snapchat from Serena. She asked if I wanted to attend a gala with her. I had been busy preparing my new album and writing songs, so I texted her back saying I wasn't going. [Ryan, there will be tons of singers and producers at this gala.] [You've always wanted to meet that legendary indie producer, right? I saw his name on the guest list.] [I can introduce you to him. It'll make things much easier for your career.] In the past, Carter was always the one who accompanied her to these events. Under the spotlights, she was the dazzling princess, Carter was her prince, and I was just the clown hiding in the shadows. When Serena first became famous, she attended an award ceremony. I asked if I could go as her assistant just to be there, but she refused. She said I was too low-profile and didn't know how to dress, claiming I would embarrass her. Later, I accidentally saw her text messages with her best friend. [That broke loser Ryan actually wanted to come to the gala. Is he blind? He doesn't even look at the mirror to see if he fits in.] [IKR? How can he even compare to Carter?] Reading those texts felt like a bucket of ice water poured over my head. My hands shook as I held my phone. But back then, I didn't dare bring it up. I was too afraid she would leave me. Since then, I stopped listening to that producer's music entirely. And now, she was inviting me to the gala, offering to introduce me. How ironic. [I'm not going.] I refused bluntly. Then, I added: [Please understand, we are broken up.] After that, Serena didn't text back. Just when I thought she had given up, a black luxury van pulled up right in front of me. The door slid open, revealing Serena in a gorgeous gown, crying her eyes out. "Just come with me this once, and I promise I'll leave you alone forever." That offer was highly tempting. While I was hesitating, her assistant shoved me into the car before I could say no. At the gala red carpet, Serena took my arm naturally, smiling brightly for the cameras as if nothing had happened. I figured she just wanted to silence the breakup rumors. After all, we were in the same industry, and a messy split wouldn't look good for either of us. Despite feeling deeply uncomfortable, I tolerated it. But once we walked inside, I finally understood why she had been trying so hard to please me.
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