2025-02-26 19:14:41Mariya Carter sat with an air of cold detachment. Across from her stood Max Donovan, the man who had been her fiancé for the past three years.
She folded her arms and met his gaze without hesitation. “I want to cancel our engagement.”
Max's expression froze, his fingers tightening at his sides. His deep blue eyes, once filled with unwavering devotion, flickered with disbelief. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me,” Mariya said, her tone crisp, devoid of emotion. “It’s over, Max.”
For a moment, silence settled between them, heavy and suffocating. This wasn’t how today was supposed to go. They had an agreement—once Mariya’s company went public, they would move forward with marriage, sealing both their personal and business ties. Instead, she was severing everything with a few cold words.
“Mariya,” Max said slowly, his voice measured, “we agreed on this together. After everything we’ve built, after three years—”
“The gap between us has grown too vast,” she interrupted smoothly. “You wouldn’t understand my world anymore. Staying together would only burden me.”
Max let out a quiet laugh, but it was laced with bitterness. “A burden?” His eyes darkened. “So, now that you’ve made it, I’m a weight holding you down?”
She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she reached for a checkbook, her delicate fingers moving with practiced ease as she wrote down a figure. Tearing the check from the book, she slid it across the desk toward him.
“Since I’m the one ending this, I’ll compensate you,” she stated. “Ten million dollars. A villa. A luxury car. You won’t walk away with nothing.”
Max stared at the check. The seven zeroes burned into his vision like a cruel joke.
“You think I need your money?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.
“This is the best I can do.”
Her words cut deeper than he expected. He had been with her through everything—her struggles, her long nights of work, the doubts, the failures. And now, she was treating him like a business transaction.
He exhaled slowly, pushing the check back toward her. “Keep your money, Mariya. I don’t need your pity.”
Just as he turned to leave, the office door slammed open.
“Why are you still here?” A shrill, condescending voice filled the room.
Max turned to see Isabelle Carter, Mariya’s mother, storming in. Dressed in a tailored designer suit, she oozed arrogance and contempt, her sharp gaze fixed on him like a predator eyeing its prey.
Max nodded politely. “Mrs. Carter.”
“Spare me the pleasantries,” Isabelle sneered. “You are no longer welcome in our family’s affairs.”
Before he could respond, she threw a large box at his feet. It tipped over, spilling its contents across the pristine marble floor.
Max’s expression darkened as he took in what was inside. Clothes, old belongings… and then his breath hitched.
A small velvet box rolled toward his foot.
He bent down, picked it up, and slowly opened it. Inside lay the royal diamond engagement ring—an heirloom passed down in his family for generations. The same ring he had spent months preparing, ensuring it would be the perfect fit for Mariya.
His fingers tightened around the box. This was beyond rejection; this was humiliation.
His eyes flickered back up, only to find Isabelle smirking. “Did you really think you could climb the social ladder by clinging to my daughter?” She let out a short, mocking laugh. “How naïve. You’re nothing more than a stray dog trying to beg at the master’s table.”
Max’s jaw tightened, his fingers itching to wipe that smirk off her face.
“Mother, that’s enough,” Mariya said, though her voice lacked any real conviction.
But Isabelle wasn’t finished. “No, let him hear the truth. My daughter deserves a man of real status. Not this kind of loser.”
Max exhaled slowly, fighting the urge to react.
A burden. A stray dog. A mutt.
The words echoed in his mind, each one twisting the knife deeper. He had endured setbacks before, but this—this blatant dismissal, as if he were an insignificant speck in their perfect world—stung like nothing else.
He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I see,” he said quietly, his voice laced with mockery. “So, in your eyes, I was never more than a pet you tolerated.”
Isabelle scoffed, crossing her arms. “Finally, you understand.”
Mariya remained silent. Not once did she defend him, not once did she correct her mother.
Max clenched his jaw, then bent down, scooping up the ring and shoving it into his pocket. His gaze lingered on Mariya for a moment, searching for something—anything—that hinted at regret. But there was nothing.
He straightened, stepping over the discarded belongings.
“Congratulations, Mariya,” he said, voice chillingly calm. “I hope your new fiancé doesn’t end up treating you the way you’re treating me.”
A flicker of something passed through Mariya’s eyes—hesitation? Doubt? But it was gone before he could decipher it.
He turned toward Isabelle, meeting her condescending gaze head-on. “And you,” he said with a small, humorless smirk, “should be careful what you compare people to. Sometimes, the mutt you underestimate turns out to be the wolf that devours the entire pack.”
With that, he strode past them, pushing the doors open without a second glance back.
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